Cadwell

Team Charley Horse is pleased to announce that, at last, a major sponsor has come forward. It was a high stakes, high pressure deal brokered behind closed doors and over an "Afterburner" or two. Fish, touched by my tale of penury and living off Tesco Value Fish Fingers, agreed to sponsor me and gave me a quid to buy some Tesco Value Beef Burgers. I'd also like to announce the imminent publication of "101 things to do with Tesco Value Fish Fingers." Tho this working title may have to be changed to "102 things ,,," seemingly you can eat them as well.

I got to Cadwell after a four hour Bank Holiday traffic drive. I was glad to get there for two reasons. Firstly, Cadwell is my favorite circuit and secondly, after four hours I had a bad case of the "Bettys". Suffice to say you could have boiled my shorts to make clam chowder. While I had arrived without incident, Daz was not so lucky. He had just been pulled by "The "Fuzz", normally I have to pay extra for that. Lost in a small Lincolnshire village and acting suspiciously by driving a race van in close proximity to a race track he was pulled by "The Lone Rasher". I dont think were looking at the next Chief Constable of that fair shire. Thankfully I missed this village, for I was indeed guilty of "Whistling on a Friday." Dixon of Lincoln Greens only other major bust was arresting the Chief Constables Granny for "Loitering with intent" outside the Post Office on pension day.

Next up on my paddock walkabout was Monkey Boy. Someone had made the elementary mistake of giving him something sharp. He was dabbing Savlon on the resultant cut and doing his best not to blub. In truth I've had bigger nicks shaving, and so I pass on to him the " Pink Tutu of Shame." Wear it in good fortune, but beware taffeta can be nasty and sharp.

As part of my "Help the aged" voluntary work I camped up next to the Colonel. Lin was on hand to get him dressed and put his teeth in. My job was to get him from the bath chair onto the bike. This also defaulted, for reasons that were never explained, into keeping "Small Paul", the Colonels ace spanner man, in cups of tea and boy can he drink the stuff. He crashed the night in my van and as it turned out Sat. night was freezing. The warranty chip on my sleeping bag had expired and then initiated the self destruct sequence. I carry a spare duvet in the van for such emergencies. Unfortunately it was in the bulkhead that Small Paul was now snoring peacefully on. I considered that being woken in the night to find yourself being manhandled by a big hairy Scot is unlikely to be a pleasant experience, unless you answer to Morag and Paul didn't look like the Morag type.

Race one Sunday and while the big boys scrapped up front for something called points I had fun scrapping with Matt Grey and Pastry. Nice one Pastry, sadly one of us had to lose, and it was you hah, ha ha, hah. I also set a new pb of 2:02 in race two, seven seconds faster than last year and this despite a bike that would not pull 6th up the start/finish straight. In an effort to get round this I switched to 14:41 from 14:42, aiming to hold it in fifth but Monday just wasn't my day. Race one lap 2, approaching Coppice the back end gave a "lurch" that just didn't feel right. It was at this point I started to wonder if I had done up my rear spindle after changing the gearing and decided it might be an idea to stop and check.

Race two and my race lasted 20 yards, following a start line tangle Liam Kneivel launched his bike about 5 feet into the air, his arse went another three and then he landed all crossed up in front of me and I had to take to the grass. At this point I decided that I had had enough fun for one weekend and went and had a coffee and a fag and wondered if Vanish's oxy action would be enough for the stains I had just picked up.

Looking forward to Croix, cheap wine, good food, not a T.V.F.F. in sight and hopefully we get to go racing in some glorious French sunshine. This is George Watson for Back O' the Grid, signing off with "Bon Rut, votre chien a'mange mon chapeaux" as they say in France.

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