Parrots Rally Club.

Pissed as a Parrot Rally.  

7th 8th 9th November.  1997.    

    We only heard about this rally the previous week whilst on the Flying Boot rally, so following a phone call we  had directions to the site.  Well, we almost had directions.  "About 10 miles past Ashbourne on the A515, it’s a black and white pub."  The only pub I could remember in that area was the old Newhaven Hotel which has been boarded up for years.
 I am fortunate enough to have the kind of job where I can usually finish early on Friday, so by half past two I was on my way.  The weather seemed decent for the time of year, dull but not too windy or wet.  I passed through Ashbourne and kept a keen eye on the mileometer, the Newhaven Hotel was ten miles past Ashbourne and still boarded up.  I had the horrible feeling that we had been "set up" and the rally site wasn’t where we had been told.  After another two or three miles a large pub appeared on the right.  The Bull I’ Th’ Thorn.  Now there’s a mouthful, as the actress said to the bishop.  I quickly set the mobile dog kennel up and went to book in.  The rally seemed to be running itself as non of the Parrots had arrived.  Within a few minutes Kev and family arrived on their good old B.M.W. outfit.  We stuffed ourselves with pizza, which I just  happened to have about my person, and headed into the pub for the night.  This was a normal "trad" Friday night with people milling about and generally chatting, drinking and falling over.  By midnight the weather had changed for the worse.  Gale force wind and lashing rain, just what you need on a rally.  We tied extra storm guys on to Kev’s "Megadome" tent.  These big "one touch" tents are excellent but they don’t like strong wind.
 The rain took its toll on the Trike’s electrics.  I had to remove the h-t leads and dry them thoroughly before the engine would start.  Having got the Trike started we headed into Buxton to find some dinner.
 By the time we got back to the site the rain had soaked into the ground creating lovely mud.  The kind of mud that builds up on your boots as you walk so by the time you have crossed the field you are two inches taller.  The more sensible people left their bikes up by the pub.  The Trike, having wide tyres and a lot of weight over the rear wheels, found the mud to pose no threat.  Also. It’s difficult to fall off a Trike.
 By eight o clock Saturday night we were once more in the pub.  The indoor silly games were well received.  The "musical flans" went down very well, with the two finalists performing a somewhat different ballet, based loosely on the "Flandango" perhaps?  The awards were duly presented, with my wonderful mobile dog kennel winning "Grot tent", of all things.  I won Grot Trike last week, Grot tent this week, are they trying to tell me something?
 By Sunday morning the wind and rain had abated somewhat, so I quickly packed away before the wet stuff descended again.  Another rally over.  Thanks to the Parrots for an enjoyable weekend, it was fun (despite the Grot tent award.)  See you next time, all being well.


    Lone Wolf.

Back to 1997.