The Baby

Tea till Dusk is on Wednesday. It sounds really civilised and all Pimms-in-the-sunshine doesn't it?

It's an Army enduro, laid out by Army PT instructors, and it's about as far away from Pimms as you can get. Martin is under strict instructions, as I told him today:

"Take a good look at my face whilst you can, because once that race kicks off Wednesday, all you're going to see is the back of my helmet".

To which there really was only one available put-me-back-in-my-box response:

"Yes, that would be possible, if I wasn't taking the Husaberg"

Army PT instructors have a certain way of looking at the world. Now, I'm not sure if a career as an Army PT instructor attracts a certain type of person, or if it just turns people a certain way, but there's definitely a pattern.

I mean, you've heard the tale about the PT instructor with his recruits:

Army PT instructor gets his recruits out on the parade ground 6am on a freezing winter morning in their shorts.

Him, being tough as cowhide, has his red vest with a Union Jack on it. He has a whistle round his neck. The poor recruits are doing their best to stand to attention without shivering too much whilst the PT instructor tells them what's going to happen:


"When I blow once on this whistle, you will jump into the air as high as you can. Understand?"

"YES SERGEANT!"

"And when I blow it the second time, you are to come down again. Understood?"


He puts the whilst to his mouth:


PHEEP!

"... WAIT FOR IT!"

Humour is nothing unless there's a hint of the truth in it.

They do a brilliant enduro at Tea till dusk though, and they put an awful lot of thought into the course - fallen trees and all. Pimm's it ain't.

I was faced with a bit of a dilemma yesterday. Martin needs help. He has a trail riding group booked on Thursday, but he has to - has to - be elsewhere.

I have an audition for "The Apprentice" on Wednesday, as you know. Why on earth did I want to do that? I can only have 1 day off work next week. So, do I help Martin, or do I go and have a hoot making the producers piss themselves?

Five people on Thursday, right on the arse of Tea Till Dusk on Wednesday. And, to top it all, I am riding The Baby. Nooooo! Not The Baby. You know about The Baby - Martin's little favourite. She hates me. She smells fear. She sees me coming and sticks out her little petted lip like a toddler having a strop. She knows I hate her too. She's got the same fat arse as a 450, and all the grunt of an electric slug.

There's two schools of thought on this. One school of thought is that if you ride around on a shit bike then when you get on a good bike you will notice a big difference. The other school of thought says that if you ride around on a shit bike then you will hate it. Hmm.

You already know the answer to this one. There will be other series of The Apprentice. You never, ever, let your friends down. Munny comes and munny goes. Prosperity ebbs and flows. Your friends don't.

And, speaking of good bikes, I got a lovely picture today sent to me by the Wizard of Oz:




This was him doing his stuff on Heroes Legend. He's obviously recovered well, since he's looking for an entry to Dawn to Dusk on 23/24 August. So far, there's me, Martin, Jago, Oz and (possibly) my ITM all doing Dawn to Dusk.

I remember my first enduro - almost a year ago now - and how traumatic it was. I still have a healthy respect for the trauma, but it's this really fantastic feeling to know that there's a bundle of people you know out there on the course too. You egg eachother on, take the piss out of eachother and race eachother. You can't see anybody's face, but you know they're grinning.

This must what it feels like to belong.