2008 report #1....uncut!

Yup! It's all on again!

Killing time at Changi Airport, avoiding the guy on the spanish guitar playing Kermit the frogs “Rainbows” song. Dodging Singapores answer to Simon & Garfunkle blended with Captain & Tenneal. I stumbled into “il Lido” Italian Vinoteque & tapas style restaraunt. Well, I didn't stumble as much as listen to “the calling”. Buffalo Mozzarella on the menu & something in my chemical make-up drew me there. Or was it the pretty woman waving the menu under my nose as I strolled past? We may never know. It was pretty good considering the lack of fresh basil, washed down with a glass of Montepulciano & I am so ready for Italy. I land in the Uk at 6:30am tuesday & 24 hrs later my drive to Italy departs. I haven't been able to totally avoid all known annoyances. My private little corner away from the crowds has also proved to be the perfect place for a couple of pre teen boys of Indian heritage to throw their airport friendly toy across the lounge to each other. It looks like a condom stuffed with green jelly, and being unfamiliar with the Indian caste system I cannot confirm or deny said gizmo.

Time has marched on & I have had a few ups & downs....mostly mental. Have decided a two tier attack on this whole journal bullshit & because you have received this first edition it means you have been selected through a thorough yet random, deep yet rather shallow method of selection. So welcomesw33 to the “uncut” or “ after hours” version. You may regret the ravings- IF you read them. There will be trashy, un-pc moments. I hope we're all up to it?? So for starters .... my flight from Singapore was..... unpleasant. I had a window seat & an elderly couple completed our trio of seats. They had taken the livestock theme of cattle class to heart. “ He” had the most incredibly offensive b.o. Yep, Singapore was pretty hot & May is not his normal wash month-he was waiting 'til he got back to Yorkshire to roll in some shit. But it was at about the halfway point that they went to the loo AGAIN. This time I seized the oppertunity to force red hot pokers up my nostrils & go to the loo myself. What the real effect of this was a planetary shift. “SHE” ended up sitting beside me. You know in life there are certain things that don't get talked about much once we leave the school playground? Certain views, beliefs & myths. I am about to reveal a private part of my life. I thought women & the “fish odour” thing was myth. the whole chicken/fish thing. Yeasty fungus thing. Yeah, good for a wind up With the right audience... I cannot explain with enough graphic detail the full extent of the kippery odour that hung with this soiled pensioner. Her husband, bless his smelly socks, was a far better option to her. If someone is being really annoying then you can usually say something....but “ hey lady smuggling actual crustaceans in your clam just ain't kosher” probably won't solve anything. And so I made it to Britain – the dead giveaway was the slummy, fithy shit hole toilets at the airport. That & the overweight, balding & fat x- servicemen lined up at immigration with their Asian brides. I got picked up at 7am by Richard the co-driver on rallies. Driven straight to work to look over the 1964 Ford Falcon

Anyhoo. time has marched.....6:45pm Wednesday 4^th June, On the cross channel ferry -hope to get the happy one next time. I have driven the lovely merc van with $1,500,000 worth of AC Cobra in the trailer tagging along. No co-driver, just me. Good. Fortunately I brought music 'cos every bit of news on the radio results in a babble fest about 2p sausages

And now that I am on the ferry approximately 4 hours later than my booking I should be sleeping. Yet to decide when I'll stop for the night but I really want to be in Italy as soon as I can. I ache for it. I want it. oohh yeah. I am running so late because I managed to meet up with dear dear friend Anthony at Heathrow airport. I was within 2 miles & 30 minutes of where he'd be -so I really just had to make it happen. It was so worth it, I had had a rather major wobbly moment earlier in the day & was seriously doubting all the reasons to be here, away from Selene & business. Added to that was a big dip in self esteem & all because of the apparent pressure of strangers. People I'll never meet or know. I'd caused a traffic jam at the toll gate for the M6 toll road. We all took it to save time & traffic congestion. But I pulled up at the attendant-less booth that is fully automated & needs correct change... I thought no notes. I started tossing my coins in the catcher basket & it kept saying it wanted more. What the fuck!?! I thought 9quid would sort it, the picture of the truck on the price menu made me think so..... But £16.50 for van & trailer – I was short......added to that all the copper &10 & 20 p coins I'd been tossing off were pennies from fucking heaven for someone 'cos they were all rejected & filling the little slot of rejection. I was red, hot & “why won't those people stop tooting their fucking horns???” I got out of the van. Don't know why, just freaked I s'pose. An attendant came over & yelled “ 'ave you gorra cashcard?” over the top of my meekest “ I fucked up!!” Yeah I have the company credit card, & about nz$2000 in cash- not to mention my own plastic & cash. I found it & stuck it in the slot & the barrier lifted. I grabbed at the receipt & nailed the throttle! Stalled! Faaaaaaaark! What a start to my time. Such a simple senario, but I have arrived & been unsure of so much. Then this. I was low & lonely.

Not long after I'd stopped for a coffee & food a txt arrived from Anthony & I felt a spark of hope. Welkommen einer liddle spark. A few txts later & I finally had an arrival time to co-ordinate a meet at Heathrow terminal 3. Now I was on a mission. My mission statement. “ I'm on a mission” Ahh! Now thats what I had been needing. I guided the rig into T3 carpark through to the extra height area with 400mm to spare. Then got the van & trailer jammed as I tried to manouvre through the barrier. Another traffic jam & chorus of horns....I didn't care. They could all go blow my horn. No one was forthcoming so I just tooted back. Backed back & forth a few times, bumped up the kerb & wriggled through the gap...only a little bit of yellow paint on the corners of the van. As I waited I sorted my luggage for the weeks running in & out of hotels & went through to departures. About 20 mins ticked by before Ant appeared & was really quite elated to see him – this caught me by suprise. Seeing him & the need to see him. I had been quite blasé about it till the M6 tollgate. For whom the toll bells eh? I helped him check in & re-pack his over weight luggage, said our goodbyes & I drove out ( un-hindered ). Now I was switched back on. Brain working, auto-pilot on the motorway functioning as usual, the van became a whole lot easier to drive as I caressed the steering wheel to guide it down the road instead of fighting with its vagueness to get it to do what I said. The trip to Dover ripped by with speed- except when the traffic stopped us. Like 2 miles out of Dover with bumper to bumper lorries.

Once in the qeue I could reflect a bit on the day, the journey in all its forms & the pikey (gypsy type character) that was walking up & down the rows of vehicles spitting. Must've been a lawn sprinkler in a previouse life. Man, he had active saliva.

And to sleep I go – struggling to keep eyes open.

Caio reggazzi

British GP 2008

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British F1 Gp. Here again but only just. We are Running Richard Styles again.I have no idea what he does for a living, but he is about my age. I'll be really pissed off if his mid-life crisis is to go motor racing.......man have I screwed up. Plus I'll probably be pissed off anyway. I'm so hormonal at the moment I may be pregnant!.... Deadline for entry into the circuit was 2pm Thursday 3rd. I'd built the spare engine up that WASN'T ready to “drop in the hole” because it had been cannibalised so much, swapped the good engine out after the overheating issues it had at Brands Hatch the weekend before. I drove the car up & down our liddle country lane in the rain at 10:30am. The rain had ceased briefly but I was still struggling to test the Mustang up to 7000rpm. Nervous & twitchy at the front, lacking in traction in the rear. But the missfire was gone & the temperature maintained good readings. We quickly loaded &  left at 11am. Dan, the company “lad” was to follow me in the camper van. I was in the GOOD red sprinter & was VERY happy to have a CD player again. Dan was to be my speed limiter as the insurance excess for him driving the camper was 5000 pounds. Ah, No- I didn't accidentally add an extra zero. We spent most of our time setting up camp for the camper & mercedes, shifting &  shuffling to get a comfy set up. There are two rows of tent like “garages” ready to house the 50 car entry. Beside a gaggle of British & European saloon cars there are 11 other Mustangs to contend with, along with 6 Falcons & a huge Galaxy. Ford's a plenty and not a Chev in sight! There'll be more American muscle than downtown Bagdhad. Hopefully we have more success too. We are the only crew to have a clock & table in our garage. And I'm hopefull that the lovely brown paper “table cloth” & bowl of mandarins will make us stand out from the riff raff. I had time to do some exploring on my bike & got to nosey about a bit. Some of the crews for formula BMW, GP2 & Porsche GT3 support races were doing a track walk, discussing the lines to take & the changes in plot direction in Eastenders. I was really enjoying peddaling flat out on a GP circuit. But it struck me there was a perfectly good 125cc scooter to use- so I detoured back to base, grabbed Dan & took the scooter out for a fang- his terrified rigid body trying to stand the scooter up as I leaned it down into the corners. We fatted down national straight on the club circuit where our pits are. Cranked it over and entered the full GP circuit at Beckets. Blasted down Hangar straight with straight abandon, leaned into Stowe aiming for the late apex. Through Vale the chicane of Club heading for Abbey wishing I had 4 wheels & more power. Or just more power, leathers & a crash helmet would suffice! I was catching a van that I thought was just another one of the maintenance crew that were manicuring the lawns etc. But no, he was some kind of official there to make me leave the circuit... I was so close to being allowed to follow him, he was chuckling & shaking his head, but in the end- “Leave, over there” as he pointed to a gap too small for a scooter. We dragged the scooter under a barrier & rode off laughing at our mere seconds on an international, famous Grand Prix circuit. We passed the 5 heli-terminals waiting for the weekend when Silverstone becomes the busiest Heli-port in the world. Cruised through the B.R.D.C ( British racing drivers club) compound via the back gate to show Dan where people that didn't need to drag scooters under barriers congregated & I instructed him on being a little more discreet & gave him some pointers on some genteel etiquite . “ Golly, just look at the ample bosom on that young Lady” rather than his loudest Cannock accented “ Faarrk wudja lookit the Tits on 'err”. We exited the compound through the security gate with a respectful nod from the guards that obviously have no idea that riff raff can get in. When I cooked dinner for Dan on Friday night I let him taste some of the devine Grana Padano I brought back from Italy nearly 4 weeks ago. It is just beautiful but I thought he was going to cry when it touched his tongue. So it was a trepiditious time preparing the Caprese salad for lunch saturday. It was a totally new experience for him and I'm glad it was only a good Italian fior di latte mozzarella instead of the full Buffala. Anyway, everyone knows I DO NOT SHARE my Buffala!! Plus, Richard tried to tell me that a real Caprese has avocado.....I wasn't about to arm wrestle him for it, but made it quite clear I was right .... he backed down, but wouldn't concede.

By lunchtime Friday we had cleaned everything & re-spanner checked the 'stang. So there was nothing else to do but go shopping. We had a few errands to do for the business which was a good reason to go & fondle a whole lot of Aerospace fasteners & the like. After a wander through the “F1 VILLAGE *t.m” and avoiding looking directly at the eyes of the young chicks selling stuff -For fear of being drawn into owning something I don't know I need with Vodafone or Panasonic Toyota plastered all over it. The conflict that is raging within me- I really don't want to seem like a dirty old man perving at the pit totty half my age in their tight'n'short clothing. But as I touch myself through my mac that really needs a visit to the drycleaners I can't help but feel a little dirty. All in all the village is just another tool aimed at a special subspecies within a subspecies. British F1 fans. Generally not a good ad for the human as a life-form let alone reducing consumerism & carbon footprints. Plus the coffee cost nearly as much as an exotic imported beer in N.Z- AND it was yet more VILE brown liquid that the British public seem content to call coffee and furthermore, drink.

I have been drinking the odd “proper” coffee but it seems that they let just about anybody have a decent machine.Its as bad as allowing any weirdo have kids. But socially could have far more damaging side effects. To make it worse there is no good coffee roastery. What I have discovered is “RocketFuel” a shot of coffee with guarana that you shake & it self heats. Chemicals kept separate in the cups double skinned outer combine to produce the heat. All self contained until you remove the foil top & are greeted by a steaming short black, pre sweetened & ready to boost your flagging eyelids. Lets not talk about the chemicals & plasic cup till after I've finished the 2 trays of 6 & have disposed of the materials in the best possible manner- probably chuck them out the window as I drive the M6 past Birmingham. That seems the norm.

After that very average Brands Hatch meeting -pole position in qualifying in the 3 laps before retiring & fastest lap of the race before retiring on lap 3 we were keen to put in a good show. The whole field had to wait in pit lane halfway through the qualifying session while oil was cleared from the track. It was nice to be the focus of the F1 crews. Nothing like a V8 to bring out the petrol head...I mean enthusiast. And we were in 5th.... Or “P5 “ as we like to call it. Saturday night was the mighty storm. We'd been blessed with a dry qualifying, but within an hour it was blowing a gale & chucking it down. The camper rocking about & rain lashing at the windows. I went to check on the Mustang & decided that my cunning plan to go over it without an audience of spectators & other competitors needed changing. The weather had made it quite unpleasant in the tent. Sunday we'd be up early instead. So we had another beer each, I put another loaf of garlic bread in the oven & started warming our self saucing chocolate pud. An early start would sort it. Check over, Tyre swap & fuel....that should cure the fuel surge symptom.

And indeed it did. The car ran sweetly, if it hadn't been for being pushed off at turn 4 on the first lap we could've had a podium finish. Instead Richard was chasing, chasing. Finally he made it to 7^th but wasn't going to make it past Nick Whale in a very wide Mercury Comet. Which he was driving “very wide”. The cause of the panel damage was Jackie Oliver. Ex Shaddow & Lotus F1 driver, GT40 Le Mans winner & he also started Arrows Formula 1 team. He is well respected in this arena. Also well known for forcing his way through little gaps that don't exist. Small man complex perhaps? I was VERY impressed with his denial routine- He almost had me believing him! Richard was so very diplomatic with the 3 or 4 people that didn't give him racing room, he let them all off.His 6 or so years of racing a short time to have become so philosophical about the whole thing. All in all as good as we could've done, with 3^rd fastest lap a wee bonus- & at least it wasn't raining. Which is more than I can say for the GP. All day it was torrential. I spent most of it doing brief viewing raids in the rain & then back to the camper to moan. How thoroughly English of me. We ended the day rubbing shoulders with good quality fresh airs & graces in the BRDC “farm”.....It is like a little piece of English countryside in the middle of a race circuit. Kind of a Manor away from Manor. Very pleasant & I felt quite at home laughing at the common people. I even got Dan to sit up straight & throw in the “oh yes, absoloootly, disgaceful – What were they thinking?” So we weren't thrown out. Richards father in law talked his way in with us “un-ticketed, non members”. He is real old school gentleman racer material, & he used to manage James Hunt & has been involved with motor racing his whole life. He seems to know Everyone.

Even me.