and edged as far as I could into the lower recesses of my ‘winter’ sleeping bag. When I go again next year I will definitely be taking two sleeping bags. By the way I had two T shirts on my thermal long johns, two pairs of socks, a wooly hat and a white neglige. No I didn’t, it was black actually 
. Well enough of being cold, what actually happened. Not much really we had a quick drink and went to bed…..after we had been knife throwing, talking to nearly everyone on the site who came over for a chinwag, admiring the ‘Pete Mahal, a true vision in blue etc etc.I think we started drinking a bit too early, when I say we I mean Newt. He really lived up to his name…As p****d as a Newt
. I now fully understand this phrase. We didn’t end up in a fight with any other campers, just ourselves really. Newt took an instant dislike to his bike and told everyone that he had some unfinished business and then went and kicked the s**t out it 
. This was fine except it wasn’t his bike he was kicking it was Swims 
. Now Swim is a pleasant lad and is one of lifes calmer figures, luckily. He enquired as to why he, Newt, was wreaking havoc on his beloved machine 
. It took a few seconds, as it would after two bottles of Glenfiddich for Newt to realise that in the dark frosty night he had selected the wrong bike. He was err umm, how shall we say, most apologetic to say the least and Swim being the man he is fully accepted the apology and they went on to discuss at some length the strength and indeed excellent build quality (good job they are really) of the Honda Cub. Earlier on that evening we had cooked ourselves something to eat as I was dying to try out my homemade ‘Trangia’. Proper stove this
I don’t know why but when I came to light it everyone took a couple of large steps backwards and winced
. It was however a triumphant success. No one or their belongings, was incinerated, which by all accounts is a small miracle. I did hear the muttering, keep Bogger away from the knifes and the fire and the drink and the bikes and the other campers 
. A bit unfair I thought.Next time we go camping no one else is taking a tent, only Pete and as he christened it ‘The Blue Mahal’ as he thinks it bears a striking resemblance to the Taj. To be fair it did, it’s b***y massive.
Petes and JJ's tents
Oh one thing to add about the weather, it was dry
and mainly windless discounting the wind emanating from various trouser departments . During the cooking session Swim was smugly 
cooking his sausages on his ‘proper’ Tragia. Just before they were fully cooked, he got up, fetched his bottle of meths (Tranjia Fuel, Not drink, hic) and proceeded to empty it all over the sausages . Laugh, our sides split more that his sausages did. He still doesn’t know why he did it. I do, he’s puddled. Delia Swim strilkes again
We cooked ourselves a chicken curry and rice later on it was proper nice. In an effort to save weight most people had purchased whisky, rum or the like. I think Black Country Pete is a budding alchemist as he kept pouring various concoctions into a metal beaker and warming it up on his stove. Strange folk these Brummies.……………Oim not a Brummie, oim from the Black county oi yam. Yea whatever.
A few of us later in the evening decided to go down to the marqee and listen to the bands. Alan a fellow Irish Cubber came with us, nice bloke. We resisted the burger van for as long as possible but failed miserably in the end.
Swim and Russ....Shhhhhhmokin
We did get one classic story whilst down there. It involved this lads drinking session with his fairly recent partner. After said drinking session they made their way back to his prospective father in laws house, where they were staying for the night. That was the good bit. During the night the lad wanted to go the toilet and being somewhat intoxicated and disorientated with the unfamiliar surroundings took a wrong turn and ended up in said prospective father in laws bedroom and proceeded to urinate over him whilst he slept. We nearly fainted with laughter. Beats the wardrobe any day. Apparently this incident is never mentioned over the dinner table, I wonder why.
We made our way back to camp and had a little bit more to drink, just to be sociable like. Newt was already in the land of nod and I think I was next to hit the sack. I have no idea what time the rest got to bed? The Dragon is a cracking rally, everyone is there to have a good time with no aggro. We all had a few walks around to have a look at the other bikes and chat to the owners in the daylight hours. It’s great to hear their biking history and jaunts abroad etc. There is plenty to look at, a bloke had even turned up on a Lambretta. Think of a bike and it was probably there. If I go again I think I will stay over on the Friday night as well, just to make a long weekend of it.
A cold morning after a cold night
It was of course one long p*** take and we wouldn’t have it any other way. On the Sunday when we woke there was a very heavy frost and the thermometer was reading –4 degrees. We has a cracking breakfast of bacon and sausage with no meths mishaps etc. It was a leisurely pack up and load and we trundled out of the site at about 11.30 am. Just as Salty woke up. We did fear for him at one point but there was the occasional grunt from his tent so all was well. Everyone had a brilliant weekend, the site was literally in the middle of nowhere, it was well organised in a non organised sort of way. I for one can’t wait for next year. A proper good time. Get your tickets booked.
Bogger
