2007 OGRI RALLY

Seeing as it has only been two weeks since our return from the France trip, the malarkey of packing & loading early in the morning was still ingrained upon my inner being. So, it was up, ready, bike out & bungee the holdall on, then away to work.
I had initially tried to get the time off for this one, but, seeing as they had caved in over me buggering off to France for 16 days I had decided not to push the issue.
Needless to say, when someone turned up to cover for me I was more than a little surprised! (Though not at my employers, they make the Jugsters look like a well oiled machine!) So much so, that it took me all of 1minute to get changed & be out of the door, I didn’t even care about the unnecessary early start!

Now, there was no point heading back home at 09.30 in the morning, seeing as, prior to meeting up with the rest of us, the bride was taking the kids “shopping,” (better known as a bribing spree) prior to bundling them of to the grandparents for the weekend. “Any way, (I thought to myself,) “its 30mls in the wrong direction.”
(“When has that ever bothered a fuckin’ Jugster?” Whispered a little voice in the back of my head, it’s the one that normally talks sense!) Decision made, knowing that he would be up & about, it was off to Nuneaton to scrounge a brew out of Steely!
Several brews later, Wiggy & then Doug arrived, (Doug for the 2nd time, as he had been round for a brew earlier!) then, with Dinky ready to roll after her “quick wash & change routine” after her return from work, & Shazza arriving on the dot, the “Less than magnificent six members of the Jugsters Scouting Party” were assembled & ready for the off!

Now, you are probably wondering, “why have they only got six of them attending this do?” Well, the reason is, when we announced that we were going to give this one a try, there was an awful lot of interest put forward, but unfortunately, not a lot of fucking money! (Typical Jugsters, short arms & deep pockets, for fuckin anything, that isn’t’ beer!)
So, when the deadline expired, (i.e. the tickets were on sale,) six members had paid up, so six tickets were sent for. Another attempt to purchase tickets was made the following weekend. But, by then, they were sold out! (We were warned that, “You have to get in early for the Ogri, it’s dead popular!”)

We were on the road earlier than planned, which, as it turned out, was a damn good thing. “I had received a text from a friend of ours (Jasper) warning us that the A429 was “murderous,” and, seeing as the original plan of meeting me on the “old fosse way” on my route from work could now be abandoned, it was decided a new route would be taken by those in the know. (Namely, Doug, Wiggy & Steely. “Oh fer fecks sake,” I know, you’re now thinking to yourselves, and “didn’t you learn a soddin’ thing from France!”)

Away we went, after a refuelling stop, into the wilds of Coventry, on the A46, the plan being to cut through & past Warwick to the A429. With me & the bride not knowing Coventry at all, we were sticking like glue to Doug, who had been elected as “leader for the day.” Unfortunately, seeing as Doug never uses his indicators, (seeing as these are a “new fangled thing” to him) we needed a crystal ball to guess which lane we were using next!

Once we had finally negotiated the Coventry & Warwick bypass, things really went to rat-shit! The 429 was nose to tail with traffic, all of which was heading south for the bank holiday! Things got worse when you got to any built up area or two bit junction with traffic lights, where things just stopped totally. After we had stopped for a “fag-Break” in Moreton-in the Marsh (Doug had reached his nicotine deprival limit,) we were off again.

 Time for a bit of the old “Speed Filtering” then! It became obvious that due to the traffic lights etc, there was a certain rhythm that you had to get into, whereby you had nothing coming for ages, and then a batch of cars, Lorries etc would all come thundering along the opposite carriageway together.

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Timing was everything, (we are as famous for our lack of timing, as we are our directional abilities!) Needless to say, we careered along the road, sailing round blind bends, with everyone keeping one eye on the traffic & the other was looking for where you were going to dive in next!

Well, some of us were, Doug & Steely, (good old “Captain Myopia” himself) slightly over-reached themselves at one point & had a bit of a “Showdown” with one wagon on a right hander! (Ooooh, the language! He used expletives that even Shazza had never heard of, let alone used!)

Once we were on the Cirencester bypass, it was time for “yours truly” to take point as, once upon a time, in my previous career, I had “visited” Kemble Airfield as it is now known! With no problems, (for once) I got us to the gate of this former RAF base, only to be “out-braked & punted” out of the way by Shaz, the reason being that, as she explained later, she had “never been the first fucker onto a fuckin’ site!”
Once we were booked in, it was a case of finding somewhere to pitch the tents, which was no mean feat, I can tell you! The prime areas to pitch were gone, but we found an area of suitable size for our needs & got cracking!
Once pitched & all were ready, it was off to investigate the delights of  the beer tent, which had been advertised as having  30 real ales & a 24hr bar, get fuckin’ in there my son!

The way the site was arranged was very well thought out, we were very impressed with it all, and all were in agreement that is the best set up we had ever encountered. Though, apparently, according to some acquaintances we spoke to, though acceptable, it was not up to previous standards. (We wouldn’t have known the difference, seeing as to the best of my knowledge, we were the first Jugsters ever to have attended this rally!)
After purchasing the required tickets we found the lure of the bar irresistible! As per usual, Steely announced that he was going to “pace himself,” (and, as per usual, we knew he was full of shit & braced ourselves for the inevitable rampage!)  He stated that, “seeing as I aint a bitter drinker, I’m going on the cider” (Well, it was actually a scrumpy called “Old Rosie”, 7.3%, oh fuck!) Donna, Doug, Wiggy & I staged an assault on the real ales, with the intention of “doing the lot”. Shazza, being the only “lager lout” had to fend for herself in the general melee that was the normal bar.

As the Ogri lads were doing their best to enforce this fuck-eyed smoking ban & it was sooo fucking hot, we dragged a table & chairs out into the brilliant sunlight, and got down to some serious “beer tasting” and sunbathing all rolled into one.
In all truthfulness, I felt quite sorry for the bands, who were putting on absolutely excellent performances, but to a virtually empty marquee, this being due, in my opinion anyway, to a combination of the fantastic weather & the smoking ban.
The rest of the day soon descended into the usual mess, with our happy throng, who had, by now, been joined by Jasper, Kim & Andy, “The mad Irishman.” It seemed as if everyone was hitting the beer with the sole intention of not getting past 9pm.
 
Shazza also had a crack at the wares on offer in the food marquee, where they were catering for all tastes! It was apparently rumoured to have been run on previous years by OGRI themselves, or rather some of their military contacts.
How true this is, I do not know, but this year it seemed to be a contract caterer who was dealing with things, the food was reported to be of a good standard, (by her indoors, who is in the contract catering business herself) though, yet again, we heard people saying it had been better in previous years!
 (On this point I would like to state that, in the past, OGRI M.C.C. have obviously spoilt you stupid, cos the grub was fucking good!)

Without a hitch, everyone got themselves into silly-fucker land, thanks to the excellent choices in the beer department. Donna & I were working our way rapidly down the list, with reckless abandon, as were Doug & Wiggy, but in a more reserved manner. (What Shazza was lacking in choice of beer, she made up for in quantity & speed consumed, lasting until about11pm before sliding under the table!)

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After taking our little “Pissederella” back to beddy-byes, it was time for some more ale & a bite to eat. I had a curry, which was also very good!
In the early hours of the morning, we all staggered back to the tents, having had a fucking great night, for a bit of a nightcap & then the plan was to “turn in”, ready for tomorrow.

In actuality, we were treated to a bit of a “sex show.” The neighbours, who had turned up & pitched next to us after we had gone in search of beer, were going for it “hammer and tongs” “how do you know this?” I hear you ask, well, obviously in the heat of passion, they had forgot to switch off their light, so we saw the whole lot in silhouette, with all the accompanying grunts, groans & moans! Who needs the porn channels when you can get such a show for free; Wiggy was positively foaming at the mouth!

The next morning dawned, just as bright & promising as the previous one. As per usual, Doug was up & knocking up a brew before anyone else had surfaced, you gotta love the guy, his first words to me were, “mornin’ mate, do you want a cuppa?” Who could ask for more from a friend? (Except for possibly, a couple of paracetamol’s? As unfortunately, my head was throbbing!)

Soon enough, after the usual “dawn chorus” everyone was up & about. Our illustrious Vice-chairman, whilst climbing out of the tent, noticed that Doug was wearing his baseball bumper boots.
Well, seeing as she had packed hers as well, she mentioned to him as she dived back in, “seein’ as it’s so fuckin’ warm I’m gonna put my fuckers on, and my shorts.”
 
Five minutes later, she re-emerged from the tent, all red faced, still wearing her bike boots with her jeans!
Doug asked her, “where’s your trainers, I thought you were changin’ em’?”
To which, with a reddened face, the dozy bint admitted that she had packed one of hers (size 7) & one of our Danny’s (size 11) Thereby giving us all a laugh & starting the day off on the right foot! (Well, the left actually, the right was Danny’s!)
(It has to be said at this point, in all truthfulness, I never married her for her brains, she may not be bright, but she’s happy!)

With us all having a bit of a chuckle at her expense, she trooped off to get a breakfast with Steely & Donna, clumping along in sunglasses, tee-shirt & bike boots, like a photophobic “storm-trooper.” Still muttering to herself about us being a “nae good bunch ae fuckin’ sarky bastart’s!”

Prior to joining them for a spot of breakfast, a few of us sat around the tents, attacking a 4yr old bottle of sloe gin, whilst Wiggy & the mad Irishman went out for a “play” on their bikes and to go shopping in Cirencester, they also went for a meal, just like an old married couple. Meanwhile, the rest of us just sat around “chilling” & sunbathing.

After about an hour or so, I wandered up along with Jasper & Kim, in search of the others, (it doesn’t take a “Rocket scientist” to figure out the most likely place they would be!)
On the way up there, we were passed by the “happy wanderers” as they returned after their little trip though, they had swapped bikes for the return leg. Apparently, Andy, “the mad Irishman” is trying to sell his Triumph & it could have been a “marriage made in heaven” if he had managed to catch Wiggy in one of his now famous, “I’ll av may wun of those,” moments!

After letting them know where we suspected that we would find the rest, we carried on up the field, having to stop for a short time, whilst Kim dragged a positively drooling Jasper away from a yellow Ducati 748 & cleaned the slobber form the tank.   
Yup, there they were, sitting outside the beer tent, supping on the “piss weak, gassy crap” (as Donna so succinctly phrased it) awaiting the opening of the “real ale” bar!
In between pints, the “food hall” was paid a visit, where the breakfast menu was perused, agreed upon & devoured. (£5.00, for a full English, top bollocks!)

 

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Once breakfast was complete, it was time for round 2 of the Jugsters “lets get smashed” race. Steely got off to an early lead by hitting “Old Rosie”, whilst Jasper & Kim tried to level the playing field by bringing out their secret weapon, (that sloe gin) & passing it round.
(For those of you who have not had the “pleasure” it tastes like Venos cough mixture & has a kick like a fuckin’ mule!) The twisted sisterz were slugging away at that whist going for it on the beer as was I, whilst Doug stuck to the beer alone.
Irish Andy then made a challenge for the lead by starting on the Whiskies & then magically producing a box of red wine, needless to say, Donna started ramming that down His nibs as well, claiming it had aphrodisiac properties where he was concerned!

It was at this point that Bowser, the OGRI Chairman arrived on their club chariot, (an old dog of a C90 with a chair grafted onto the side.) This contraption immediately caught Steely’s eye, you could see the cogs, if not exactly whizzing round, were definitely grinding away, lubricated with alcohol, formulating a “cunning plan!” 
The OGRI Chairman then went off to do his master of ceremonies bit at the rally games that were organized. I popped out to watch the entertainment for a bit. Yet again, a well organized affair. The moped assault course/time trial was very funny, whilst the “Jousting” was downright hilarious.

As soon as I sat back down, Donna, who had been sitting there cross legged, asked me to “mind” his lordship for her, as she desperately needed to “Hover.” No sooner as she was out of site, he was off, leaping straight onto the “combo,” cranking it up 1st go, and away he went, drunkenly careering through the crowd, murdering a rendition of that old classic by Steppenwolf, “born to be wild” as he went!
After about 5 minutes, he noticed that Donna still hadn’t returned, so off he went, weaving up the field, to fetch her!

We were warned of their impending return, by the screams from both Donna & all of the “near misses”,
As soon as she had climbed off the plastic chair, the mad Irishman was “in like Flynn” and away they went, upon what seemed to be a mission to get the few people that had not been either scared half to death or wounded on the first lap!
Eventually, he was cornered by a loose coalition of several members of the OGRI & Donna, who “persuaded” him to put it back. Surprisingly, he did as was requested, though he couldn’t get it to stop. For five minutes, we sat there taking the piss as he vainly tried to get it to stop. (Oh how we laughed, when he gave himself several belts from the HT lead) he even attempted to “stall” it.

Eventually, I could bear the pathetic pleading no longer & went across & “strangled” the fucking thing (no, not Steely, the moped. Though, to be honest, some people would probably wish I had done the former,) by sticking my hat over the carb inlet.
After a shit-load more beer, Donna was persuaded to stick her bike, (Dinky’s broomstick) into the custom show. So, off went the “Twisted Sisterz” back to the tents to fetch it. The reason that both of the drunken bints went was so as Shaz could take care of the directions, whilst Donna concentrated on not crashing!

When they eventually returned after weaving their way up to the top & entering the goddamned noisy bastard thing into the show, the bride and I went off for a bite to eat and a tour round the stalls & the custom show, which was set out in the middle of the area shaded by the trees, and surrounded by the stalls.
This had loads of entries; god alone knows how they judged that as the standards were very high. The stalls also offered a wide & varied choice for the discerning shopper, needless to say, there were a few purchases made, much to the annoyance of the “walking, talking, breathing, seething, Scottish stereotype” that I married!

Whilst we were away, Steely had gone “walkabout” with the weak excuse that he was going to catch up with “some old mates in from the Antelopes.” Prior to this, he had convinced a young Lithuanian girl, who had announced that she was a lesbian during the conversation, (probably as a deterrent,) that Donna

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“occasionally batted for the other team” too! Thereby giving Donna another problem, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate!
This got the young lady interested in chatting to Donna, whereby he made his escape! As he left, at a great rate of knots, he shouted over his shoulder, “be careful, you’ll make Shazza jealous & give Helen something else to worry about!”

Whilst he was in “unsupervised mode” he attempted to get his ugly mug in a photograph being taken of a group of active & former members of H.M.Forces personnel, who had raised a load of cash for charity! When challenged, as to his right to be in the photo, he stated “Oh shit, you’re right; my dad was on the other team!”

 With the custom show over, Donna persuaded Shaz to collect the “broomstick” & then they managed between them, to weave & wobble it back to the camping area in one piece.  On their way back up to rejoin us, Shaz went for an impromptu “bath”. Two members of the OGRI sidled up either side of her as she was peering into the murky water of the jousting pool and, after giving her chance to pass her stuff to Donna, they promptly threw her straight in! (Donna did a runner)
After about an hour sitting in soaking wet, though rapidly drying clobber, she wandered off again, to get changed, returning a short while later, wearing a bra top, cut off shorts & bike boots! (Catwalk Queen or what, Claudia Schiffer, eat your heart out!)

The entertainment for the afternoon was a series of musicians playing outdoors in the brilliant sunshine, most probably down to the fact that there was virtually no-one sitting inside the marquee. (It gets more & more like a police state every bleedin’ day! If you feel inclined to agree with this sentiment, visit the website w.w.w. magna carta.co.uk. It’s quite an eye opener, very informative!)

To be honest, I don’t recall any of their names, as I was as “in beer” so to speak, but all put on a good performance, the female vocalist was good though, i do remember that!
All of these performers served as a form of warm up for the afternoon’s major event, which went by the name of “the Glam Rockers.” These went down a storm, (and all of whom were OGRI members apparently) they were a real laugh, and kept the gathered crowd entertained with a full on “Gary Glitter” performance, (and no, before you start, it didn’t involve under age kids!)

Whilst this was going on, for no reason other than it was fucking hot, a water fight ensued, trust me it was more than welcomed, you could have fried an egg on a plate in that heat! Of course, things just had to progress to wine & beer, mainly just the dregs, though, as I was talking to the missus, I ended up wearing a pint of cider, so shit-head got the wife’s lager in his face for his trouble! (Well, I wasn’t going to waste my “real ale” on that twat was I?  That would have been stupid!) 

The final “act” of the afternoon was a poor misguided fool, whom I can only assume, was on a dare, when he staggered up to the mike and drunkenly slurred his way through a classic, all time rock anthem, As originally performed by those ‘hard rockin’ heavy metal gods, known to all as “The Muppets”, the song he chose to grace us with was none other than,   “Munum-anum, doo-doo bi-doo-doo”!

It was round about this time that the mad Irishman decided that he fancied trying a bit of “cross dressing”, he persuaded a by now, semi-paralytic Kim to part with an item of her underwear, which the Aussies refer to as an “over the shoulder, boulder holder.” (By fuck, what a contraption, he referred to it as a double hammock for pygmies!)

Whilst he fought his way into the damned thing, Shaz started to ‘help him out’ by stuffing it with her socks. (I got a thump round the back of the head, when she overheard me mutter to Jasper, “Yup, that’s her normal practice”) He then started trying to “pull a date” for the evening, though, in the end, we did have to warn him about his behaviour, let alone his attire, as Wiggy was starting to get agitated.  

 

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As the evening approached, the sun started to gradually descend towards & then behind the hangar roofline, the temperature started to fall. To be honest, this was a merciful release for some, judging by all the “painfully pink bits” that were on display!
She of the Highland ancestry, had even managed to turn a slightly different shade of white, which is quite good for her, seeing as it took her four days on the Mediterranean  coast just to add a tint to her usual pale blue! Steely reckons that it looks like she sunbathes in a fridge!

Yet again, the evening’s entertainment was of the highest calibre, (and yet again, I cannot recall any of the band names) with those who were inclined (and not totally pissed) doing a lot of leaping about & enjoying themselves (generally) in time to the music. Needless to say, the big blonde one was, by this stage, leaping about like a chimpanzee on speed! Having managed to appear to drink himself sober, he was now hell bent on getting shit-faced again! He also gave us a display of his prowess as a table-top dancer. (Steely 1 – Table 0)

It was during one of these (very rare) moments of clarity that he “disappeared” again, this time in the company of Doug, in an attempt to carry out the “cunning plan” that they had hatched whilst “in beer.”
The previous evening, he had spotted a fucking great big Suzuki racing banner which was adorning the back wall of the marquee, and had decided that he was going to “acquire” it. (Most people would call it stealing, he calls it acquiring”)

Well, without attracting the slightest bit of attention to themselves (yeah, that’ll be a fuckin’ first, I hear you mutter,) they marched into the nigh on empty marquee, & ‘sidled’ their way up to the back wall. Once there, they stood with their backs to the wall, casing the joint, trying (and failing fucking miserably) to look all casual & innocent. Once they were certain that the coast was clear, they set to work.
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Quick as a flash, they set about hacking through the strings that were holding this monstrous banner in position. How the fuck they thought that no-one would notice I do not know. I could see what the dodgey looking pair of twats were up to from 50 yards away!
Obviously, being as subtle as they were, they had attracted the attention of a few onlookers, some of them just happened to be a couple of OGRI members!
As soon as they had cut the final one and began to roll it up, a very nice member of the OGRI team tapped them on their shoulders, put out his hands & said, “thank you.” Talk about ‘rumbled’ they bumbled back over to where we were sitting, like a couple of naughty schoolboys!

Once we had all stopped laughing at that dozy pair of twats, the spirits started whizzing round, (no, I’m not on about the sort that the Twisted Sisterz summon up over the cauldron.) Wiggy produced a bottle of Scotch, and, lo and behold, it magically vanished! As did the bottle of rum that I had “stashed” in my waistcoat. It was at this point that Kim finally gave up & staggered off to bed, all tired & emotional, with Shaz not far behind her.

The other bottle of Whiskey, a few more beers & the rest of the wine was consumed before Steely announced that he wanted a cheese sandwich.
Donna gave an evil little smile, and then announced “come on then sunshine, I’ve got plans for you after that” and off they went, Donna propping him up as they headed off in an attempt to find him one.

Seeing as the bands were all finished for the evening, all of the real ale had finally been consumed, and to be honest, we were mainly rat-arsed. We had a couple more pints & headed off back down the field towards the tents. When we got there, the remainder of the beer was consumed, and everyone started to turn in for the night.

Or so we thought, from out of the darkness came the unmistakable silhouettes & sounds of Steely & Donna. Just prior to letting him into the tent, and against all of his protestations she proceeded to stuff about 12 Viagra down him & washed them down with the last beer.

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With all the commotion going off, Shaz stuck her head out to see what was going on just in time to see Donna beginning to “Rape” her big blonde & senseless hubby on the way into the tent.
What followed was something so comical, you had to be there to really appreciate, but needless to say, despite all the noise from the “neighbours” we managed to giggle ourselves to sleep. (I haven’t laughed so much since I pulled his tooth!)

As the dawn broke anew, looking as promising as the preceding morning, there were stirrings around & about the campsite. The bride arose early & went to fetch the coffees with Kim & Donna, who was wearing a very self satisfied smirk, the rest of us sat around having a giggle whilst nursing a multitude of sore heads. When his nibs put in an appearance, he was a sorry site; he looked like he had suffered a severe mauling.
The biggest laugh came when he went off in search of an unoccupied (& unblocked) bog. He was walking like John Wayne after a week in the saddle! Doug observed, over his 3rd cup of tea, “It looks as if Donna has had her monies worth out of those viagra’s then.” as he waddled away, trying his best to stop his jeans chafing.

By the time he returned, the ladies were back from the coffee run. As soon as he had taken a swig, he asked Dink, “why did you bollock all those down me babe?” To which she replied “to get a reaction.” He said, “Yeah, you got one of those fuckers all right, but my heart was goin’ ten to the dozen, you could’ve killed me!”
To this statement, she looked over the rim of her coffee cup, smiled an evil smile, and stated; “then I guess I was in a no lose situation, I was either going to get a fantastic shag or, if you had croaked, a load of insurance money & gone shoe shopping!”

After a while, we all summoned up the courage, energy & enthusiasm to tackle that old favourite of everyone, namely ‘packing up’, once this was completed, we said our goodbyes to Kim, Jasper & that deranged ‘mick’ maniac, and set off steadily for home. It did raise a smile though watching his nibs, trying to find a comfortable riding position, seeing as his 3rd leg had reappeared, due to the vibrations from his bike.

It is at this point, “the fuck-up fairy” paid us a visit. Whilst we were riding along, I somehow missed the turning for the A429 & blithely led us onward to the A419, heading for Swindon. Suddenly realising my error, I pulled us up & then I took a wee bit of shit! We then did an “about turn”, and went back down the slip road, and retraced our steps back towards Cirencester.

This is where the “fuck-up fairy” (who had obviously been riding pillion with me,) jumped seats & went for a spin with Steely for a bit! Off he shot, with scant regard for anyone else, as if his arse was on fire. (It was most probably his groin). Wiggy (bless him) gave up with the whole idea & headed off on the A417 to get onto the motorway, as he had to go to work that evening. So, it was down to Shaz & I, with Doug & Donna behind us, for about two junctions and then they disappeared!

Shaz & I sat & waited in a lay-by on the A429 for about 10 minutes but to no avail, we eventually decided to set off again, riding at a moderate pace, hoping that they would catch up & we would possibly catch up with Steely. With no joy on either score, we pulled in for petrol & a smoke.
After refuelling we received a call from Dinky-doo, to find out where we were, after a brief conversation, we set out again, only to find them in a lay-by about half a mile further on!
We never did find out how they got past us, seeing as we didn’t deviate from the exact route we took on the way to Cirencester, but they had caught up with his nibs & had been bumbling slowly along waiting for us!

After another smoke, and a giggle at his nibs hobbling about, we set off again, heading for the next petrol station en route as they all needed to refuel now and as yet, hadn’t passed a petrol station!

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When we pulled in at the next services just outside Moreton in the Marsh, Shaz & I sat & waited for the rest, laughing away at “Big chief Swollen Tackle” trying to get comfortable, I even suggested to Doug that we should buy a copy of ‘Razzle’ or something similar, then tape it to his tank,& then watch him really suffer!

The rest of the journey in the most part was quite uneventful, we did lose touch with Doug for a while, but he reappeared just on the outskirts of Warwick. The ride through Coventry was just as uneventful, except for one minor incident, on one roundabout, a 4x4 with a Chav at the wheel, chatting away on his mobile, decided that he didn’t need to stop & pulled out on us. This caused a mini chicane for us to negotiate after a flurry of brake lights.
We stopped off at the Tavern for a pint & a chat with Crip, you couldn’t ask for anything better really, a good weekend away, a ride in the countryside on a beautiful day, a beer with your mates & a good session of  “taking the piss out of Steely” as his burgeoning erection was still showing absolutely no sign of fading!

After we had finished our pints, it was off home for Shaz & I, where we just unloaded the bags, leaving them virtually packed ready for the next weekend in Wales. (What an international, Jet-Set, lifestyle that we lead!) We then headed off to pick up the kids, back home again & time for a bath!
Once we were washed & changed, it was off up to the Man within compass in Whitwick, for the music festival which is now in its second year, where we had arranged to meet up with Claude.

If you appreciate live music, this would have been the place for you to be! This is an event which is now being run on every August bank holiday Sunday for the charity called the “access to music programme”.   This organization (A.M.P.) is trying to encourage & assist young people who wish to learn music, by providing instruments & training which, I was informed, seems to be seriously lacking within the school curriculum due to budget constraints

All of the bands & musicians who participated in this event donated their services for free & some of them doing the same with their merchandise as well.
There were a variety of acts to suit all tastes, ranging from an acoustic stage with folk singers etc, to a full mobile events stage! The set up was fantastic, as soon as one band finished on the main stage, another started on the acoustic, and then vice versa, so there was no sitting around waiting.
Though, to be honest, nobody would have complained, seeing as the sun was shining & the beer was flowing, all in all, everyone seemed to be having a grand old time!
 
Within an hour of us getting set up Claude arrived, coming straight there from a rally himself, having called at a couple of “watering holes” on the way! Needless to say, within four pints, Claude was lying there fast off, with the folk singers doing their best to compete with his snoring, though he did wake up in time for the major performances of the day.
One of the acts for me, stood out, a band called “no friend of mine” who, if you get chance, I would heartily recommend that you go and listen to, they are a kind of a cross between the Chilli Peppers & Metallica.
The last act of the evening was called “The Blues Brothers Reloaded” and they were also excellent, well worth the £5 on the gate for these two performances alone!

Once the entertainment was over, I said goodbye to Claude & headed off home to bed, thanking whomsoever responsible that I had the bank holiday Monday off to recover from it all, as we had booked tickets  for the Wandering Celts rally on the following Friday. Ah well, no peace for the wicked!