Alreet....
As you read this, you're probably sitting down with a tube of Pringles, the telly remote lost under a sea of discarded wrapping paper, kids playing with the box, and waiting for the turkey trumping in laws to bog off to whence they came. As we come to this time of reflection its time to mull over the key questions of life. Why aren't Australians gracious in defeat? Sprouts? How come Brucey isn't dead yet? Do you think that new assistant on Dr Who isn't bad for a ginger?
But the key question is.... just exactly what do we do without our weekly fix of stock car in the winter months. I mean in the rare weekends off in season, the Lord gives us some Moto GP, Formula One or BTCC to watch, to keep the petrol head happy. But like our beloved sport, they don't take too kindly to cold aswell.
The group of people this effects the most is the spectator. Now there is a school of thought that say we should have some winter meetings. Spudworth have had the Winternationals for a few years now, seems to get reasonable turnouts. I remember when the Purple lot last fiddled with Taunton, a test meeting took place on 30th December. It pissed down, and the invasion from the East, namely Messers Cooper, Polley and Cole, splashed there way thru the new conifgured track. Indeed, muggins has in the past suffered a 7 car banger meeting on New Years Day, freezing proverbial tits off, hung over and suffering the effects of the night before, just for an stock car fix.
Yes, there is the Autosport show but thats only one weekend. So how do us spectators fill the gap? I tried doing the normo thing. Going to the shop, buying a sunday paper or two, having a large roast, letting it digest with a snooze and read of the paper, then watch the footy, and lo, it's Monday! My mother has learnt to either plate up a roast for me now, for nuking later -or we have a roast during the week. I started reading Sunday papers when I lived in my student house. Took my stereo downstairs, set up shop in the conservatory (yup it was a dead posh student house) put on the Zero 7 album, read the papers, and then the supplements. 2 weeks later, it was festoon with art students and stank of Mary Jane and Anna. So the paper thing died a death, and decided to spend Sundays in the pub.
In this intereggnum between seasons, drivers fall into 4 camps.
Camp 1. DIY. That wallpapering in the spare room you had been putting off since March has too be done, in exchange for racing tokens, for use in March, from 'er indoors. It simply has to be done now, or death by silence/glare/starvation/blood loss from dramatic sudden penal surgery will follow.
Camp 2. Builders. Weekends are for getting arc eye, cup of tea, pot riveting, tea, losing tin snips, tea, finding tin snips, tea, understanding wiring diagrams, not understanding them, tea, give up go indoors!
Camp 3. Fitters. You've spent the coin on your new spec RCHigDall, you just have to put your bits on it. A glorified jigsaw puzzle, suitable for ages 8-80. Sure beats the harbour scenes you usually get. Thats not sky, that's the sea!
Camp 4. See Spectators, and you can bet your shiny behind that these will be the ones cleaning up at the start of the season!
And finally, the promoters. The closed season sees the ORCi Fixture Planning Arm Wrestling Championship. I've heard Bev Greenhalf is awesome. Why else does Northampton keep getting the European!
Ta ta fer now
Jonny...
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