How quickly another year passes, lots of partying all year at other folks rallies now it’s time to put back with our own again. This is P in The Park number 4, the second time at this site. We learned a few lessons last year and took the feedback on board. It had been a wee bit squashed last year in the bar with some congestion around the bar area, I figured some vicks sinex might sort it but instead Manio, our host, bashed a window
out of his bar, got some joiners to make a floor and had grafted a large marquee onto the side of his pub, result, plenty of room for everyone.
At the Rampant Lion Rally this year, Rab had kindly offered the use of his marquees to use as an after hours party tent in the field me, of course being organised, ha, had left it until thursday to arrange to pick ’em up, so ended up rounding them up from the various locations around central Scotland in which they had been stored.
Rab did give the instruction book, which, I duly mislaid when we got to the site, ahem, anyone good at origami. In the end we had three successful erections (ooh er missus) with the help of Thor in one case when we hadn’t figured out that unless one of the club members was 8 feet tall then we should have put the doors on first before lifting the roof. A couple of floodlights and a generator and we had a party tent. Note to self, dammit, next year bring some chairs.
By midday the control caravan was in place, the support legs had fallen off it and young Alan was having an all in tag wrestling match with the awning, which put up a fairly good fight before submitting to many hands.
By this point folk were arriving, and it hadn’t rained, of course we’d all been praying to whatever deity we could find, in my case a small brown loaf, that the weather would hold out, and it had, so far.
To say that things are a blur when you’re working your own rally is an understatement, most of
this recollection is from heresay, photies and reminders from other folk, in any case no animals were harmed in the writing of this inane drivel
Dave from the club arrived on his recently aquired XS650 hardtail chop, which promptly decided that it was cold and would keep itself warm by having a small impromptu electrical fire to itself, a bloody cardigan or a jumper would have done just as well. Having been extiguished the cold obviously affected it’s bladder as it then decided to pish itself, leaving a large puddle of petrol on the car park. By this point it seemed prudent to load it into Willies pick-up and drive it to the nearest land fill site.
One of the attractions of this site is that it does great grub and at decent prices and this year it was open until 3am. I eat better here than I do at home. By evening about two hundred fol had arrived, a large contingent of Conductors MCC from Northern Ireland appeared again this year with folk from Aberdeen and wayyyy down south. Sharon was in charge of the sign in tent, I only get trusted wiv heavy fings.
Big Watty was installed on the door, then Friday night’s music kicked off with ‘Full Metal Racket’ followed by ‘The Clachies’ an everchanging cabal of wandering minstrels who went missing some fifty years ago in the ‘Barmulloch Triangle’ only to mysteriously appear each year and play irish and scots jiggy tunes and songs what get folk dancing like whirling (and quite quite drunk) banshees and their male equivalents, banhees ???
It turns out that certain parties who will remain nameless, Seth, M & Chris (so I lied) successfully emptied the entire bar stock of Blue Wicked.
This resulted in some rather more dubious concotions being experimented with by the mad professors of inebriatory sciences Upon being profferred such steaming and noxious brew I managed one sip, however I needed to stay upright so I made me excuses and legged it quick.
If any of these folk offer you drink, ask yourself one thing, “Have I anything important to do tomorrow ?”.
I stumbled upon a bout of ‘Wee John’ pinball in the foyer, this fast catching on sport has appeared recently, I nderstand that the IOC are considering it for the 2012 olympics being held in a toxic waste dump in London.
Around this time, well 2am, I was gettin’ knackered, having run about like a twat all day it was time to neck a few beers and head back to the field to find me tent, I needed to be up for me security shift at 6am, oh no, remind me again why I do this .
Saturday arrives all bleary eyed and hungover, or was that just most of
the camping field, dunno, but it was me.
The plan, eat, sort out the silly games and then get the wheelie bin racin’
going. A very kind south of the border council had donated these fetching
purple wheelie bins along with spare axles and wheels. Marty and myself
had worked to modify the bins , lengthen axles, drill and generally fettle
aboot, wi the bins that is ! Oh aye and Marty did the dab hand wi the spray
After last year’s collapsing pram wheels incidents we decided to move from
Michelin to Bridgestone
So this year the bins had ‘proper’ wheels at the back and we greased the
axles to get the most performance out of them.
After all this work I was looking forward to having a right guid laugh and
a carry on.
Then Sharon drops the bombshell in the early afternoon, our main band for
saturday the ‘Derivatives’ had cancelled.
As far as I know none of them had died, therefore they had commited a cardinal
sin as far as I was concerned. If no one is dead, then ye don’t let folk
down at the last minute, real bad show guys. Especially since they were
bringing the PA.
To say I was fucking furious is an understatement, some Inuit tribesmen
phone to complain about my ranting.
Thanks to many folk who chipped in band names we phoned about ten names
trying to get a replacement, “Hello, Can ye play a bike rally ?”,
“WHIT !, er NAW”
There would be repercussions later in park ferme during the drugs testing for these two, illegal fuel methinks.
IT was reported however that the funniest bit was watching Wee John throwing his whole weight behing the cart trying to stop it and ending up being dragged down the strip and just stopping before wiping out someone’s bike.
That was until we were ceremoniously ‘dug oot the shite’ by ‘Apparition’ from round Dunfermilne way.
I had to then make calls and bugger of wi Sue in Thor to scrounge together a PA back up in Stirling.
The upshot of this was that I missed the wheelie bin racing, pleased, NO.
But every cloud has a silver lining, we got a much better band who rocked the place on Saturday night.
Saturday night, and the poor bastards who were
subjected to the “Ma laddie’s playing tonight, his first ever gig in
front of folk” routine from me (and there were many) were quite patient
and just smiled sweetly.
I hadn’t even seen them play before, and most of them have only been playing
for a year or two, the singer “G” only joined three weeks ago.
‘Bloodstone’ pulled it off magnificently (but then I would say that) with
the total cockiness that only being that age can bring. Iron Maiden, Diamond
Head and other assorted ‘metal’ , haud oan tae ah get the right fingers
held up, is it pinkie an’ forefinger or thumb or, aye whatever.
It’s too late tae phone Sharon, I’ll fill it in later
‘Apparition’ followed the trophy awards, as I said, not only had they dug us out of a hole , they
turned out to be a great party band, filling the dance floor for the rest of the night with a wide variety of rock covers.
I think they’ll be back.
As you’ll see in the photie on the right, the singer of ‘Apparition’ appeared
to sing the first set into a lady’s undergarment, what’s that ?, could it
be Scooby’s bra, indeed it is, now I wonder how that got there,
did big boys do it and run away ?, could Scooby not find her pants to throw
at the band ?, we will probably never know.
It was rescued by Chris, who seemed to take a worrying delight in wearing
it before giving it back, somewhat reluctantly.
Well I’ve run oot oh shit to say about the rally, mostly coz I was busy
not paying attention, I’m off to the Minehoff this weekend to get right
pished and relax.
A big thanks to everyone who came and supported us, hope to see ye’s next
Pics Al & Scooby