It was the final year of the Concorde Rally at its present location, the owner was retiring and had sold the site for development, so no doubt next year Weston Gateway Caravan Park will be covered in the second rate junk that doubles for housing these days.
I planned the route, loaded the bike and set off, soon to find myself crawling through lanes of stationary traffic on the M25. I found this was caused by 2 accidents and sheer weight of traffic - it was Friday after all. By Junction 10 I had had enough and headed down the A3, only to be immediately confronted by another accident that had bought traffic to a standstill. Anyway I went across the Hogs Back and joined the M3 at junction 5 where there was of course... another accident - this time an overturned car was blocking the slow lane. Not to be outdone by the westbound carriageway, at the exactly the same point on the opposite carriageway there was another upside down car, and going down the queue it appeared that several more accidents had occurred.
Having refuelled just before Stonehenge the rest of the journey was completed by having the sun in my eyes and being treated as if I was invisible by any other idiot who happened to be on the road at the time - this journey couldn't end soon enough. I turned into the campsite hoping for a warm welcome and a cup of tea only to find... a completely deserted field!! Shit, I must have got the wrong site, I thought. Anyway I sat there for 5 minutes thinking what to do next (it had now gone dark), my mobile 'phone had dropped into the sea a few months ago so I went to look for a 'phone box.
I eventually found one in the retail park and 'phoned Jan and Kev. Jan answered the 'phone and I immediately insulted her by saying she sounded like Gwen! Anyway Jan agreed to 'phone round whilst I went to look for another 'phone box - several dubious looking characters had come out of a nearby pub and were eyeing up the bike. The second call revealed the awful truth - not the wrong site - I had the wrong week!
No choice now but to grit my teeth and head home (M4/M5), at least the roads were dry and all the idiots had gone home by now. I arrived back at 11:10, slung all the gear in the living room and went to bed.
Gear back on the bike and off I went again. After 6 miles it stopped raining and for the rest of the journey I had the sun in my eyes and for good measure the sun also reflected off the road ahead of me, as a consolation the idiots appeared to have had the day off.
I held my breath and rounded the last corner and was relieved to find a campsite full of tents.
A lot of the Bexley crowd were already there and after having pitched my tent (cheers Tank) we all headed off down the Bucket and Spade for something to eat. Phil, Andy (Lee had swollen feet and couldn't make it), Ian and Julie, Jackie and Gary, Mac, Chris and Jo, Tank and myself all settled down to the 2 for 1 meal offer - a very substantial meal at that. After that it was back to the campsite for the evenings entertainment, a rock disco apparently, I say apparently because I nipped back to my tent for a quick 40 winks only to wake up at 8 o'clock the following morning! (I can only assume that the long ride and the Toad in the Hole consisting of 6 sausages had got the better of me - must be getting old!)
On getting up and making my way over to the food wagon I noticed what looked like a pile of mushy peas next to Gary's bike. It turned out that this was the remnants of Jackie's dinner and was the result of some over-indulgence on her part. Apparently she had leapt of the tent completely naked to throw up leaving Gary to move the tent further over. This gruesome sight apparently went un-witnessed!
Anyway the usual heavy Bristol downpour had now begun and we were all confined to the communal tents by the food hut for an hour, no-one fancied a run out so two feet was the mode of transport as we headed off in the direction of the Woolpack for a liquid lunch. Chris, Jo and myself went for a look round the camper van shop and the retail park first before joining the others. Chris was looking for a new sleeping bag having found that the one he had bought was completely useless and I was after one of those Tripod stools, after all we seem to spend a lot of our sitting round with nothing to do at rallies. We headed back to the campsite at the end of the afternoon and contemplated our next move.
Mr "2 for 1" (Phil Loom) fancied another meal at the Bucket and Spade, everyone else lost interest and settled for a pie and chips at the campsite. Phil headed off to the pub with a few of the Birmingham and Wolves crowd only to return 20 minutes later - the kitchen was shut so no food was on offer.
The usual band (Rough Justice) was playing on the Saturday night and a good time was had by all, the Bexley dance crew took over the dance floor as usual. The presentations and raffle came later, Bexley didn't win any awards but at least a few of us won raffle prizes. There was a special presentation to the campsite owner who thanked us for being such a good bunch over the years and asked that we should now piss off so he could close the bar! After a fairly decent pork roll most of us retired for the night.
I woke Sunday morning to the sound of heavy rain that kept going throughout the morning meaning there was no chance of packing the tents until it finished. Lots of people were huddled in the communal tent by the food wagon waiting for the rain to stop; at least I had the opportunity to try out my tripod stool. Ian and Julie went off for a shower but they could have saved themselves a walk and 20p if they just stood in the middle of the field.
When the rain finally stopped some frantic packing up went on, looking skyward indicated that the reprieve would not last long. The heavy rain had taken its toll on a couple of the bikes including Tank's which required battery assistance from a Land Rover before eventually starting - the other bike (a Thunderbird Sport I think) - was still refusing to fire up when I left the campsite and didn't look likely to either.
It was about 11:30 by the time I headed off, the rain had already started again and would not stop until I had reached the A36 about 50 miles down the road. As I approached London I could see very dark clouds and flashes of lightning in the distance. I figured that if I went through London rather than round it (M25) the wind would have blown all the dark clouds (and heavy rain) away - and largely it worked. On arriving home I opened out all the gear and hung it from the garage - everything was soaking wet; at least I don't have to do this for another seven months. Let's hope the site for next years Concorde Rally is as good as the last one!