There was an enthusiastic take-up of Bexley members for the Concorde this year, comprising myself, Ian and Julie, Phil Loom, Dutchy, Gary and Jackie, Andy and Lee, Tony Kirk, Dave Clarke and Mac. Also keen to go but a bit delayed in getting tickets were Kev and Janet plus Aussie Lizzie... but more of them later.
The biggest group of us met up soon after lunch for a leisurely ride down to Weston. Gary and Mack fancied the extra-leisurely route taking in the majesty of the Cheddar Gorge. Phil had gone a day or two early, I think to get in some Landmarks, whereas Ian and Julie planned to ride down a bit later with Jackie via the quickest route. In the event Jackie had to be elsewhere for much of the Friday so was intending to follow on solo.
The weather deteriorated while we on the M25 and by the point of joining the M3 it was obvious that waterproofs were going to be necessary. I would like to say that having cut the fiendish net lining out of my all-in-one Triumph suit after the Trumpettreffen, it was much easier to get on and off. But I'd be lying. As it turned out the shower was heavy but not so long, so by the time we got on to the A303 (interrupted by a brief problem whereby Tony's pannier strap came loose and threatened to wrap itself around his rear sprocket), our scheduled stop at Popham services gave us the opportunity to pack them away again.
Traffic on the A303 was heavy and with a large group, progress was not as quick as some years, but at least I got my annual gawp at Stonehenge. With the sun dropping towards the horizon, our leader and navigator Dutchy made the sensible decision to ride straight for the campsite, where we received a warm welcome as usual.
Kev, Janet and Lizzie had a little further to ride in as their plan was to pay for a straightforward camping pitch courtesy of the accommodating site owner and mingle unobtrusively with the crowd. And as far as I can remember this worked well enough. So for a while we didn't see them as we put our tents up... in fact I never worked out exactly where they ended up pitched on the site at all!
It was around about that time that news started filtering in that Gary had come a cropper in the Cheddar Gorge. Despite - or perhaps due to - having maintained a slow easy speed, his concentration was diverted by the majesty of his surroundings and he suddenly found himself looking at the rock face. A grab of the front brake cause the wheel to slide and his ankle got caught as bike and rider went over. Fortunately Mack was on hand to see him into an ambulance and wait while his bike was recovered. The wonder of mobile 'phones ensured that Jackie got an update before leaving home so was able to switch from bike to car for an unexpected drive out West.
With not much else that we could do except wait for news, the early arrivals decamped to our usual first port of call. This was the handy - if less than atmospheric - "Bucket and Spade" pub. Well they had beer (as long as you didn't want Bass), somewhere to sit (as long as you remembered which quarter of the place still allowed smoking) and something to eat (as long as you put your name down for a table and waited half an hour).
A few beers were quaffed while waiting for a few more Bexley bods to join us, after which the menu was perused. Obviously free-market competition was in operation in the area as they were now doing unexpectedly good value two-for-one meals; one person orders two meals and only pays for the higher priced one. If only the beer was on the same deal!
Sometime later we ambled our way back to the site to catch the Friday band who went by the name of Twisted. They were serious, they were heavy, they played mostly their own stuff. They got a polite if muted reception but caused a raising of eyebrows with the choice of encore... a selection from Robert Calvert's "Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters" album anyone? Ian and I certainly pricked up our ears at this slice of 70's eccentricity.
Jackie made it along mid-way through the evening and as you can imagine we were all pretty glad to see her arrive safely after what must have been a tiring journey. Up at Weston hospital they were talking about operating on Gary's ankle next morning.
After a chilly night in the tents, Saturday dawned fine and fairly clear. Tony opted to go on the ride out around the Mendips whereas a significant number of the rest of us formed the lazy, "spent long enough on a bike yesterday" tendency. For us it was a late breakfast from the burger van, a sit around chatting and then the second annual pilgrimage... to the other and many would say, better pub. Not so easy to find unless you know it's there, the Woolpack has a selection of beers and good food, but has stuck to their preference of closing at 2:30. I somehow managed to "down" my first pint in the direction of the carpet but enjoyed a nice plate of chilli to go with the replacement(s).
Unlike last year, as 2:30 approached the place seemed to get busier rather than empty out and we had to break it gently to some other rally-goers who came in after the bell had rung that they weren't going to get served. Perhaps these new late-licensing laws will persuade the landlord to stay open longer... 4 p.m.?
Having sometime earlier come to the conclusion that perhaps Gary wouldn't be in best shape to welcome a whole crowd of visitors if he'd been under the knife earlier, we revised our intention to go up to the hospital and pottered around the site some more.
There was just a bit too much time to kill before the caravan site clubhouse would open again so the thirstier amongst us lead the drift back in the direction of the Bucket and Spade. More refreshments and more food, strategically (or perhaps just fortunately) timed to see us back on site to grab one of the last free tables near the bar. In fact this one was actually on the stage... but it was near the bar... and the band had set up against the other wall not on the stage... well I'm not going to draw a diagram.
We overcame feelings of conspicuousness all right and settled down to enjoy Rough Justice who have played there before and know which classics to include. Less Lockheed and more Lynott basically! Campsite bar takings must reach a peak in the month of September thanks to the rally weekend and we made our humble contribution as you'd expect.
Next day and there were diverse routes chosen to head off home - empty handed for once I think, nothing having come our way from raffle or awards. The Bristol branch did generously give away a fine Concorde 2005 t-shirt for Gary which was delivered by a Bexley contingent to him in hospital on their way home.
Gary had his operation on the Saturday afternoon and came out with a good selection of plates and screws under the plaster. Apparently the Doc was worried about circulatory damage - so, no getting on aeroplanes for a while and bye-bye to a planned holiday in Majorca the next weekend.
By Monday, Gary reckoned he had suffered enough - from the hospital food that is - so Jackie took mercy and chauffered him home, allowing him to get to the club on the Tuesday for some well-deserved sympathy.