This time last week I was walking around the stalls of this years epic Hotrod Hayride. And when I say epic, I mean epic - hence why this post is five days late, it's taken me that long to recover! This was my third venture to the annual event, held at Bisley Shooting Range, and it was by far the best one yet. Both nights the bands were outstanding, the cars were even better than previous years with many coming from across the continent for the weekend, and the people were the nicest they've ever been - but maybe that was the bottle of rum I had consumed...?
Friday, as always was quite a chilled day, people arriving at various times, bikes steaming up and down the roads throughout the day, and the casual beer by the barbie. The highlight, by far, for me on the first day was the performance by the Swedish rockabilly band, The Go Getters. I've been following this band since I first really got into the scene and have wanted to see them for a long, long time. They certainly did not disappoint! I think they were called back for encore four times? I'm not sure, the rum had set in by this point. That's probably also why the photos of the set I took are rather blurry. Anyway, myself and Steve enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, and promptly got very excited any other time in the weekend when we saw any member of the band.
Probably the least blurry of the images
With a slightly sore head I woke up on Saturday in a boiling hot tent, ready to brace the day's racing down at the hill climb. Usually they would have drag racing at this point, but the landing strip they usually use had been commandeered for those pesky Olympics. Anyway, the hill climb was fun, apart from the fact I'd made the foolish decision to wear shorts and was rather cold after an hour under the shade of the trees. Mark, my dad's friend and part of the Bleek Autos team (they like to build customs, rods and bikes in their spare time and call themselves Bleek Autos), nearly took out part of the forest, a number of spectators, and not to mention the fire engine, with a fabulous near-crash as he sped up the dirt track.
Credit to whoever was brave enough to film this!
No sh*t, Sherlock...
So after we'd all recovered, we drove back to site and settled in for the night. Read "settled in for the night" as: got drunk and danced like crazy people. Seriously, my feet the next day, I swear they were physically bruised from the amount of stompin', boppin' and strollin' I did. Best set of the night goes to the fabulous Gizzelle, who's voice could probably knock you off your feet. She was joined for one song by Jake Allen, who I later accosted. Apologies, Jake, once again Mr B. Cardi had reared his drunken head. But seriously, amazing set!
We also saw Big Boy Bloater - an amazing voice by a lovely man...
Watched a Freak Show (how does one realise one has the talent for hammering nails into one's nose exactly?)
And burlesque was brought to us by the ever sexy Anna Fur Laxis...
Sunday was subdued; I was very sore headed, me and mamma sold a few things at the Trunk Of Junk before the heavens opened, we saw the soap box derby - which was a little slow, I won't lie to you, a few needed a little push towards the end - where I spoke to a lovely lady called Lydia, and got packed up to go home. In the car (called Delilah) back Steve and I seat-danced to songs we'd heard that weekend and lamented over it being gone from our lives for another year...
But lets not end this on a sad note! Here are some more photos from the weekend that makes me not feel like a freak! 'Til next year!
Agatha went home, and Steve let his feminine side out
I wish I could dance like these guys...(I also owe them apology - or rather, pardon - as I confused them when I asked for instructions to Sainsbury's, and they didn't speak English...)
Trunk Of Junk
Credit to Steve Biddlecombe for this one. The guy in the background represents how my liver felt the next day.
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