Chariot Racing

I'm still getting over last weekend, which was relatively busy, and which I extended by having Friday through to Tuesday away from work. My old buddy T was down for the weekend, hence we went to the photography exhibitions (see elsewhere here), and watched some films, including 'Sin City', which I enjoyed, and 'Reefer Madness; The Musical', during which I fell asleep. Ne'ermind. We also went to Cheltenham for a fortieth birthday, which was a great party, and stayed over in a B&B, in a place called Bishop Cleeve, which had a not so great landlady. We should have spotted it early on, as the place was full of books about or by Margaret Thatcher, but we were rushing to get into glad rags and get into the beer. Anyway, in the morning, she essentially spent half an hour ignoring us whilst she told the people at the next table that today's young, and middle classes, don't know how to do a days work, and then she came and insulted us face to face. She's been on a marketing course, so she knows all about it all - the railways, the post office, what I do for a living (I'm not sure I told her what I do for a living), the works. I'm glad we hadn't arranged to stay for another night, or I'd have had to point out that "I'm paying to be here, so shut the fuck up and leave me alone."

We then went to see my family, a trip to the ancestral pile and attached to that a wander around our home town, which T hasn't seen in over 10 years, and we enjoyed seeing some old haunts, which left him a little confused and a bit more amused, so much chuckles, and a terrific Fat Falstaff cake at the back of what used to be Wylie's. (That gives it away.)

Now, personally, one of the highlights of the weekend was the return of Formula One. I know, I hate all the politics and bollocks too, but folks, those boys earn their money. If you don't know what I mean, lie down on the floor with two pillows under your head. That's where you sit in a F1 car, or their American counterparts, and you drive it at 200mph. If you look 3ft to the left or right of your foot, that's where your competitors wheels are. And he's going at 200mph too. And neither of you is going to give way. Think Ben-Hur, and you will begin to understand what I mean. The excitement a modern crowd gets is the same as the Romans got at the Circus Maximus. Awesome. And don't think I'm singling them out, either, the MotoGP guys, and other top riders and drivers in most forms of motorsport get a thumbs-up from me.

Elsewhere on four wheels - don't ever insult me by describing me as British. The very essence of British insularity is the way the average Brit behaves on the road. Morons. Indicators? Mirrors? Give way? I hate driving these days, and you don't know what it means to say that, and it's because I have to share the road with so many peasants. I suggest that you shouldn't be allowed to drive until you're 21 (I've more to say on being 21 later), and there should be random testing - you get 4 weeks notice to present yourself for a re-test at any stage of your life, and if you fail you have 6 weeks to pass again or your licence is suspended. Vote for Me.