Steve and Spiderman tent

Photo: Bert

Pictures now here
"Thank God the sun is shining" was my first thought as I wheeled out my fully-loaded bike from the garage, in which the night before I had hastily arranged all my survival kit for the forthcoming Belgium "T Days run".
I pulled into the Oakdene Café (the designated meeting point) and parked up next to Ozz and Stainless who were already tucking in to one of the Oakdene's ample breakfasts; I duly ordered the same. As soon as the rest of the group turned up and we had all finished eating, it was off to the services just past Maidstone to pick up the final member of our nine-man group, which included 6 Triumphs, 2 rice-burners and a very shiny Harley. Next stop: Ashford and the tunnel. No sooner were we off the bikes than we were back on them and boarding, next stop: France.
Whilst on the train, most of the group took full advantage of the cool air blowing into the carriage by draping various articles across the vents - in particular our boots. We disembarked and I found myself leading our group as I was the one with a map and some very rough directions. We had a very pleasant run down to the first refuelling stop, which came about when Ozz pulled alongside me and frantically pointed downwards. He either required a piss or needed petrol - it happened to be the latter!
Before very long the junction for Zottegem appeared. Pulling off the main road we followed the minor road into the town centre, where we had hoped to see the signposts for the rally site, but we searched to no avail. It was then decided we would pull into the nearest watering hole for fluid refreshment, and several beers were downed. After seeing two groups of riders heading past, one being from Bexley, the search for the rally site continue. After several false routes the rally site was eventually found and our pitches established.
Whilst erecting our tents there was a lot of swearing and then uncontrolled laughter as Steve unpacked a bright red Spiderman play tent, which was followed by lots of cursing, finger-pointing and threats (generally in the direction of Lofty, who was protesting his innocence). After several hours and with Steve's play tent kitted-out, Lofty presented him with a more suitable tent; Steve (now known as Spiderman) seemed somewhat happier about the situation from then on!
After signing-in we had a few more beers and a look around the other bikes, Friday night was spent socialising and drinking -as you do on such occasions. Turning in at the end of the nights festivities there was again a lot of cursing and shouting, together with bouts of laughter, as Spiderman wrestled with a green rubber snake that was eventually ejected from his tent - I was later told that the scene was very reminiscent of a scene from Indiana Jones.
Saturday turned out to be a real scorcher. After a very filling lunch, it was off to the distillery for tasting and a pleasant ride in the Belgium countryside. When we returned to the site the group decided that a ride to the Menen Gate to witness the ceremony and to hear the last post being played was the order of the day. A very moving sight. It was a very pleasant 50-mile ride back to the site (courtesy of Stainless and his sat-nav). The only damper on the day's events was that "The Pocket-Rocket" lost all his documents, including his passport.
Fortunately he still had his return train ticket. Several of the group tried to retrace part of the route in the hope of being lucky and possibly finding the documents, but their efforts were to no avail. It was then time to tuck into the ample remains of the evening's BBQ, washed down with lots of Belgium beer. After my total surprise at receiving the "Best Hinckley in show" award (Lofty - polishing does not make the bike) it was back to the festivities. Spiderman did have one piece of luck when he walked into the wash room facilities which were mixed, to find a very good looking young lady stripped to the waist having a wash.
Sunday was overcast as we packed our kit away and headed for Calais - an uneventful, damp trip, consisting mostly of showers. When we got to Calais we were split into two parties, with the Pocket-Rocket pondering his fate as we tried to get him in the middle of the group. This was somewhat reminiscent of Albert RN, but fortunately he was just given a form and told to be on his way. It was then straight down the motorway and home, or, in my case, into the Oakdean for a light brunch. A great weekend, good company, plenty of beer. 30 years ago bikes and birds would have been included, but Tempus Fugit you can't beat it. Here's looking forward to next year's event (and Yes Lofty, I will get a flag for next year)!