Friday night and after some confusion Lindsey and I are sat at Washington services awaiting the arrival of Simon, but not Auora cos she has the bugs. Fashionably late Simon hoves into view and after a quick coffee break we're off to play with the western bypass. Joy...
We reach the racecourse and roll up to the camping field. Giddy, Andy and Jo have managed to get there ahead of us (oh the shame) but due to inherent incompetence have not yet pitched the tents. So at least we're all getting our drinking heads on about the same time - which is always for the best.Once in the bar the fun really starts. Old faces are caught up with again and some new ones encountered, talk is talked, drinks are drinked. The bands are good, Quill get me dancing big style, and a merry time is had by all.
Next morning I'm rather hung over and my legs ache. Gradually it all comes back...
I catch up with various people over breakfast, including a scarily hung over "Big Val" and hubby. By the time I wander back Auora has dragged her bugged up body north from Yorkshire and is ready to party.Plans are made which inevitably include the ride round Keilder Water. Much enthusiasm from Jo, Andy, John, Giddy, Simon, Auora, Lindsey and myself, yet complete apathy from Kev, Karen, Steve and many others who shall remain nameless.
Off we go, bouncing and scratchin' along the A696 till Otterburn where we stop for coffee and sticky buns at the Mill. We also wave a temporary bye-bye to Simon and Auora here, Simons bike is playing silly buggers and misfiring and, as he's only got one cylinder, decides to head back toward civilisation.The rest us pootle on to join the A68 and the fun bit to Carter Bar, it's devoid of manic kilted haggis stranglers and we risk a stop. It's cold but beautiful, as normal in other words.Next the fun bit, briefly into Scotland then down through Keilder forest and stop at Kielder village for lunch in the castle. All the time people swapping and riding each others assorted and unpaid for bikes, it is at this point Andy explains it's my turn on the 916 and he, as the only one tall enough, will ride the GS.My god it's an experience. Steering damper plus head down arse up riding position makes me a complete liability getting out of the castle. Once moving and up to speed things start to make more sense and it does shift like the proverbial. At Tower Knowe I'm still quite happy to get back onto a quarter ton of Germany's finest. And I suspect Andy's happy to get back onto is Ducati. From there it's an easy pootle back through rain and sunshine till we hit the A69 where it rains a bit more.
Party time again; lots of beer, talking in tongues and occasional dancing. But due to the need to protect reputations and my increasingly fallible memory I'll draw a veil over the remains of the evening and leave it to your sordid imaginations.
Another good do, and it seems to be getting more popular each year so book early!