So after several weeks of high anticipation and numerous hoax text messages from the Skipper, Yarmouth day had arrived. First bit of good news was that the predicted rain in mid-Essex had held off. Scoots out and ready, tires pumped and tents packed (Tents? you do realize it's March they all said?)....Ready to Move. So having met up with a bunch of local club mates, we headed North up theA12 to meet with Fred and Rose at the Mersea flyover. Brownie duly arrived only a couple of mins late and again off we set.

The wind en route was most definitely against, and a couple of extremely hairy moments ensued as we got blown across all three lanes of the Essex Raceway. We'd had a serious chat about whether to chance the Orwell Bridge being closed, but in the end we went for it. Straight across no probs. The rest of the route gave us a taster of Sunday's return as a number of snow falls gave us cause for minor concern.

We made it the rest of the way into Yarmouth with one POL stop (and two smoke breaks/Arse Breaks for non smokers!). At this point I thought I'd look at the Destination RV map, and found to my own amazement that I'd actually got us within a km of the place without even realizing! Quality...could have been a pathfinder eh Brownie!!!

On reaching the Marina Keys, we immediately noted Si Cuerden and Daz Stocks engaged in some kind of warped kite flying practice. Couldn't really understand what Stocksy was saying to Si, but he was getting fcuking wet for sure, as by this time, Sleet had begun to fall in horizontal format. We'd done our 105 miles in 3.05 hours, and against the wind, I was well chuffed with that.

We de-bussed to the bar whilst Hunty decided he couldn't let Si suffer alone, so he went to Stocksy's assistance with their big kite. A couple of other folks were also intent on challenging the northern lads at the kite challenge, so we had quite a chuckle whilst demolishing a beer! Anyway, we eventually ran outside to assist and hey-presto, tents erected and correct Staff!

So onto the serious stuff of meeting greeting and eating. And a lot of Drinking. I'm not gonna attempt to recollect everyone's names here, but if you were there, I'm pretty sure I said hello. At this point, I should point out that 4 of my club buddies from Essex wimped right out and went B&B stylee. Not for them the hard core camping malarkey. And actually, not for bloody me either. After numerous bursts of greeting rhetoric...with numerous new arrivals (Most of whom whacked their tents up in nice calm but cold conditions), we got some Sherbet Dabs organised for the run into town, or Ashore as Bagzy kept saying. Strange.

The final RV was the VFM do, with some punk covers band giving it a go. But we'd managed to drink our way via the pier bar, the long bar and a brief stop in Mission. Everywhere you went, Black AFSC badges were prevalent, as were a huge number of smiley faces....Bad Weather? Scarborough? fcukit...we're partying right here. The punk band were actually not bad, although the Soulies amongst us were telling us were we in for a treat on Saturday with Angelo starr on show for our delights and entertainment (Well it showed what they fcuking know then eh!).

I believe there was a Norvun Soul room somewhere in the do, but never found it till Saturday, when it had morphed into a room full of Skinhead types playing Ska/Boss sounds. (More to my liking anyway!). About 0100hrs we decided to shuffle back to base, and via a cab arrived back at Marina Keys, where the party was in full flow. Johnny the Guvnor had got a local mate to rig up an ipod connector and me; blitz and Bish had several hours of fun playing at DJ's. Apologies to all for some body finding a copy of "the Sash" on my Ipod, honest, I reckon Bish put it on there with his majic light bulb device. We leveled things up by playing the Jolly Ploughman though and ended Honours even for the sectarian singing! Finishing up the night with a rousing chorus of I'm forever blowing bubbles. Luves it...

I believe there may have been some Jolly japes occurring during the night, but as I'd secured myself a nice cozy corner of the bar room and adopted the prone reverse supported position, I wouldn't have a clue what they were. Although for some reason, my Arse was and still is all clogged up and Blitz was fcuking smiling at me? There were some very serious attempts made on the world snoring record though. Well done Bish.

Saturday night followed and amidst the drunken Haze, I can remember 3 of our intrepid scooterists as having a ride in the tea cups on Yarmouth Front, Brownie breaking a world record for referring to me as a "fcuking Stab", Angelo Starr being pretty fcuking toss, a whole barrel of beer being drunk, and somewhere amongst it, my girlfriend showing up and going home again. I hear she actually stayed for 3 hours...lol. I also remember being told to smoke inside a pub, and then the order being rescinded sheepishly by the pub Guvnor. Didn't really get to grips with that.

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