Despite our best hopes and intensions Friday evening was still damp cold and soggy. We abandonded all hope of travelling down till Saturday morning and went to the pub.
Off and away in slightly better weather, and later much better.
A slightly convoluted route is taken to try and avoid too much
time on my nemesis, the A1. This pisses Lindsey off no end cos
she's a "lets just get there" person and it means by
the time we arrive at the site the AGM is almost finished. Last
year the meeting was on the Sunday and caused much stress and
upset, due to our late arrival can't say if changing the day has
helped.
The evening was spent drinking and watching the band who did a
good collection of folky stuff and kept me happily entertained.
Or at least initially, pretty soon Jas, Neil and I had sussed out
that they only knew 4 different tunes. It was also about this
time that Neil decided to have a little snooze, during a brief
lucid moment he claimed to suffering from sleeping sickness
brought on by drinking out of a dirty glass....
Neil has a snooze
Yet another grotty day on the weather front so a walk into
town was deemed sensible on the grounds that it might clear the
hangovers.
Back on the site with the rains continuing beer seemed the order
of the day until the huge, and frankly scrummy looking, tea was
unleashed.
Jas, wasted and confused, wonders where his drink has gone.
While Jas, Neil and I got drunk in the back room silly games
started in the main hall. "Bugger that for lark" was
our concensus of opinion so needless to say all the jolly hockey
sticks types (male and female) wanted us to join in.
We managed, without voilence of word or deed, to communicate our
wish to be left in peace. Eventually.
Of course Bev, aka the AntiChrist, decided that I would have to
pay for my unwillingness to sit blindfold in a chair.
The prize giving started and I was summoned up to receive a
screwdriver, for what I can't remember cos by then walking was
difficult enough. Seeing me stagger across the floor mumbling and
drooling to myself seemed to sate the Evil Ones desires for she
went back to handing out prizes for the usual reasons; longest
travelled, shinyist bike, cleanest tent and biggest bum.
Assorted WIMA's boogie to the band ...
... at least thats what they call it.
Drunken lurching from side to side would be a more accurate
description
Eventually we where allowed at the food, of which there was mountains and even in our munchy ridden state we couldn't make a dent in it.
Surprisingly enough the hangover was minimal so we where soon
on the road and heading home.
Another brilliant WIMA AGM rally. Can the girls maintain this
high standard? Will the bums get bigger? Wait for next years
exciting installment ...
All the excitement was just too much for poor Neil,
so he had another little sleep ...