IoW Over The Edge - Sunday
Dawn broke with an excessively loud bang, but I managed to get back to sleep. I do remember dreaming about driving a car, but because I was still drunk IRL, I was driving drunk in the dream-car. Odd eh?
Stumbled out of bed later on to the sounds of K&E cooking eggs & toast. they have a portable camping toaster-iser. What? Who would think of such a thing, let alone buy one!
Today's plan was to wisit the vax-verks in (some dreadful eastern bit of the island). Wendy Woo got a fone call from one of the Steves, so she & Mark headed off for a zoom. Poor M's R1 hadn't really had much of a chance to stretch it's legs since leaving MK, so playing with the sports bike boys would prolly do it good.
I felt I should get some food, so took me book an' the excessively loud XS into Brighstone, to the tea-shoppe place that was so nice to us last year. Sadly, the 'awwright me mate' attitude seemed to have been replaced with a 'ahaha giss yer muney tourist scum' air, as a simple (but tasty) cooked breakfast ran out at £6.50!
M&W & the Steves hadn't made it ver' far, as they were piled into one corner. Not being overly in the mood for conversation, I found a table outside in the freshness. M later said I looked so far out of it, sat at the table, that he nearly cried for me. That's a true friend, one who will do your crying when you're too monged to do it y'self!
K&E ambled up (using some form of primtive transport I understand is called "Shanks' pony"?), just as the breakfast began to arrive, somewhat piecemeal. they seemed to interpret the mumbling noises as conversation, so that was OK. A communication from Tory via the mystical word device confirmed The Dewellers in the Shalets had arisen & were in imminent danger of being nearly ready to consider departure. M&W set off to circumnavigate the Island at warp factor 8.7, so I bade farewell to K&E an set off back to site.
TM had a new fangled get-lost-much-better box, but good ol' Bill had local knowledge. A right, a left, a small stream of cars and suddenly both these forms of navigation were put to the test simultaneously; Tory & ever'one else testing the Bill directions; me, TM&T blindly obeying the magic-speaking-map-device.
Although it appeared to be an offical "ride your pushbike on the road & bring the island's traffic to a halt" day, we made a bit of progress. Some lovely roads, some boring roads, pretty willages & stupid signposts later ('give way to traffic on your right' - WTF? ever'where else has perfectly reasonable roundabouts, but out here on the East of the Island you're all fucking slack jawed yokels?) we arrived at the place, just as the sun came out. No sign of anyone else, so we had tea & cake at the Carousel Cafe. 1st class Victoria Sponge, home made, perfectly moist, filled with clotted cream 'n jam & dusted with fine sugar.
Tart Mart was working on his 2nd coffee by the time ever'one else arrived, cursing us for having 'overtaken all the traffic, not pulled over to wait and gone zoooming on so far ahead we couldn't even be seen. We pointed out that they had gone on straight on when we (initally) went left, & so they were in front of us. How had we arrived in time for cake? Magic, just a happenstance of magic.
N&C decided they were unbreakfasted, so ordered scoff from the Cafe, Christian's soup turning out to be a particularly fine garlic & bacon concoction. A plan was hatched to race round the museum at top speed & then back to the soup-a-rama.
Some handy negotitaion at the till by I think Nicky, secured us all a discount of a pound off, and storing our lids & jackets in reception. N revealed her phobia of wax-works. Phew, just in time there. Not like we'd ridden halfway across the island or anything.
Museum was entertaining, freaky - one headed three eyed four legged lamb, terrifiying - the wax-work of Diana Princess of Thing, smelly - Jebus left behind his own exhibit of the Fart Of Doom, Staircase of Hell, awful - torture chamber, and had interesting room of steam engines, steam road-rollers, traction engines, sports cars & etcs.
Exit through ye gifte shoppe (after Theresa had put a penny in the mashing machine), & round to ticket office - locked. Oh yes, that was a possibility owing to shortage of staffs. Ah well, round to the Carousel. Soup sadly changed to Mulligatawny - ick. A table for all was procured, tastefully next to the bogs & beneath the looming presence of skewered horses. Somewhat disturbing after the torture chamber.
All fed & watered, I ordered another slice of the Sponge cake. This turned out to be a mistake, as it did not sit well with the bacon baguette I'd just eaten. We headed back to site, along a much, much shorted path than the one we'd taken, coming back through Chale Green. I waved ever'one passed me, and stopped in at the gallybagger to see my friend Pauline. Stood an chatted to her for ages, until the rain began.
Got to the tent, which was looking decidely lonely. Ever'one else had packed up! Fortranately I spotted Jebus, & remembered that the Steves were leaving a day early. Their chalet had been been taken over, in the manner of hermit crabs. Had a quick wander round, but decided I'd rather stick to my little green home, than pack it all up in the rain.
Chair, cider & torch in hand, Tory & I headed for the marquee. The 1st band had been doing their 1st set during our usual faffing, and had been sounding rather better than expected. A rock and blues type thing, but with more on the rock than layin' down de blues.
The primary number of the secondary set was a pretty good redition of 'She caught the katy'. The foolish words 'see? a good band' had no sooner left my mouth than they cranked up 'mustang sally'. Gah. Should be against the law I say.
Having trotted out such tripe, they did get better, although N professed to have heard them in her chalet & hated them. Ah such is muscial life.
Stan & Wendy Woo sold a barrel load of raffle tickeys. The Man got up on stage & began to hand out trophies, and the plaques that should have been on last years ones. This meant Ken going back on stage to collect his for Pole Dancing, Christian for Long Distance (he rode from Chermany last year) & WW for her Pole Dancing. STM proudly annouced that 'anything you get told off for at the /other rally/, you get a trophy for here!' and gave one out to the Ogri, for pole dancing a table to death. Apparently it took 21 of them, hefty buggers all, using the pole implanted in the table, in order to finally break it.
2nd band were awful rubbish. Made my way to the other end of the marquee to chat to Tiger Sue & her posse. At one point her, Paul & CW's boyf were clustered round a (particularly fiendish looking) digital camera like the monkeys round the obelisk in 2001. With similar noises, jabberings, pokings and 'ooks' of surprise when anything happened. ChrissyWissy apparently made it her mission to sneak into ever'one elses photos with a comedy grin all weekend, but this was made much harder in this case. The baboon/camera entertainment carried on for a while, until Paul's tall friend got the thing to do something, while we all did a 'stacked starfish' of glad-hands an comedy grins.
Back at the SPC base by the mixing desk, the lead singer from Camouflage and his lady appeared, leaning against a main support pole. He was quietly singing along, and giving them a look of amazement & disdain combined. All the songs that he had threatened us with last night, these people were singing for true! Camouflage - "if you bastards don't make some noise, it'll be the Bay City Rollers for you, I'm warning you!" (Awful Band - Bay City Rollers) "do you really want Delilah, you sad bastards? do you?" (AB - dreadful version of Delilah: he didn't know half the words - ever'one else in the room did) "you miserable so and so's! we know WigWamBam, and we're not afraid to use it! (AB - WWB).
I did ask him if he was paying this band in order to make Camouflage look good; he didn't deny it.
The band got worse & the storm outside got worse, until "Summer of '69" was dragged out. Unable to take such aural treatment twice in one weekend, I went off to bed.
Minor point - while lesser tents were blown to smithereens, my dreadfully expensive tent proved itself once again and stood firm. Two guy ropes, and it was steady as a rock.
posted by zedley 12:50 PM[edit]