Friday is glorious and sunny, the perfect start to the Farmyard. Some people have gone there in the afternoon, some are setting off later and some ain't going because they have been throughing their bike up the road (hiya Stevie). End result is me leaving work, hopping on the bike then having a most pleasant ride there on me own, I even remained half sensible on the B1257.
We're all camped in the right field near the rave tent, by some strange quirk everyone I know seems to be camped within a few paces of each other without actually planning it.
Happy, smiley, people
A couple of cans of red bull later I'm onto my first beer and talking gibberish to any member of the Darlington crowd who stays still long enough, Lindsey despairs and wanders off with the WIMA girls to set the world to rights.
It's after 10:00 before we make that short walk to the main tent. Base camp is established then I wander off in search of food, discovery of the event is the pasty man doing serious pasties - brilliant!
Much, much later Lindsey has found me and we wander off back to the tents for a final coffee before sleep claims my alcohol sodden body. Slurping the afore mentioned beverage I muse on the fact that the rave tent has stopped too early, the stars are out and that in all probability I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow.
And then the stage exploded...
The sun is out, the heat starts to build in the tent and we're forced unwilling and premature into the world. There is much confused stumbling about, drinking of coffee, rooting about for basic foodstuff until by about lunchtime Bev makes her appearance. So we have to help unload her car (including more beer and blankets than may be strictly necessary), put the tent up, fetch her chair and send for the fire brigade.
There are of course some official farmyard rideouts but we make our own and set off in a little convoy on Hilly (leading us who knows where), Andy, Jo, John and myself. Through the long, long drive of Castle Howard (site of a previous Farmyard Party) and onto the A64 where we find an interesting pub and stop for lunch. It's hot, too hot so we sit inside to eat where it's cooler, once fed it back out into the heat and a chance to be grateful for vented jackets. For reasons beyond my comprehension john continues to wear a scarf, balaclava and winter gloves!
Pure madness...
Scarborough is busy but we find a space to park and a cafe to sit outside and watch the world go by while our host takes the piss out of all and sundry. Mind you he did shut up and hide when a pack of hens came passed dressed as schoolgirls - not that we can blame him for that!
Leaving Scarborough on the A172 to Helmsley starts off sensibly and then degenerates into Andy and me playing silly buggers all the way back. Utterly irresponsible, but quality entertainment all the same. Apologies to all those passed, gassed or thrashed.
We stop in Helmsley to buy beer and see what's going on. Nothing in particular is the full answer so we provide our own entertainment in the shape of John the fish'n'chip juggler. This keeps us amused for a while then it back to the site.
I suspect most of the Darlington contingent haven't stopped the party since last night. Lindsey, Bev and girls assure me they have been well behaved all day, which usually means they have destroyed all the evidence and/or witnesses.
Which all means we've got some catching up to do which, 6 hours later, leads to me zigzaging back through the crowds leaving a trail of pasty crumbs and braincells - the two of which by this time where interchangeable with no loss in performance.
All in all another good Farmyard party.
Jo offers Giddy a can, Giddy's befuddled brain can't work out what to do next.
WIMA types lounging about in the sunshine pretending to be sober.
Poser. Note the leather romper suit, the shades and the Ducati 916
Helmsley village square, bike people and plod.