The indecision of winning.
People begin to leave. thats allways a sure sign that the trophys are close to being given out. if people are not leaving its almost certainly because somewhere deep in side there is a sliver of arrogance, of self believe, of hope.. that maybe.. just maybe, they might have perhaps almost kinda won.
this year, we were those people.
although not entirely on the basis of those magic three virtues. oh no. we had a hint of a confirmation, a sniff of glory from not one but two edition38 big cheeses earlier on that weekend. and it didnt smell like cheese. it smelt glorious.
panic and fury soon whipped up around the F6 camp, full bottles of lemonade spraying around inside mulberry cabins, people getting naked and fucking and eating each other in the street, it was the end of the world... a revelation....a gift from above, had our efforts paid off no only in childish fun but in hard cold silverware? surely not??!
It was never the intention to win best stand of the weekend but you would have to be a fool not to accept right?
Then came the wait. the windy, cold, mind numbing wait. ''best mk1 goes to....'' ''best mk2 goes to...'' each car as perfectly formed as the next.
on the awards went, one deserved winner after another, one lovingly painted and polished car tackling the edition slope then gliding back down... untill the T2D van was fired into life and proceeded to lift 5mm off the floor then drag the entire length of the dirt road behind the stage to collect its award. genius. a perfect pick me up.
and then that sinking, empty realisation. we could see to the side of the stage another club assembling, with the same self assured grins.
We hadnt won. it was a tarp all along. our clubstand reduced to a campsite, a mere 100m out of the camping ground and into the show ground would see us walk away with the prize. not today buster. still it would have been space-time bending to have everything go our way this weekend.
whats a camping trip without a glaringly obvious logistical error afterall??
People begin to leave. thats allways a sure sign that the trophys are close to being given out. if people are not leaving its almost certainly because somewhere deep in side there is a sliver of arrogance, of self believe, of hope.. that maybe.. just maybe, they might have perhaps almost kinda won.
this year, we were those people.
although not entirely on the basis of those magic three virtues. oh no. we had a hint of a confirmation, a sniff of glory from not one but two edition38 big cheeses earlier on that weekend. and it didnt smell like cheese. it smelt glorious.
panic and fury soon whipped up around the F6 camp, full bottles of lemonade spraying around inside mulberry cabins, people getting naked and fucking and eating each other in the street, it was the end of the world... a revelation....a gift from above, had our efforts paid off no only in childish fun but in hard cold silverware? surely not??!
It was never the intention to win best stand of the weekend but you would have to be a fool not to accept right?
Then came the wait. the windy, cold, mind numbing wait. ''best mk1 goes to....'' ''best mk2 goes to...'' each car as perfectly formed as the next.
on the awards went, one deserved winner after another, one lovingly painted and polished car tackling the edition slope then gliding back down... untill the T2D van was fired into life and proceeded to lift 5mm off the floor then drag the entire length of the dirt road behind the stage to collect its award. genius. a perfect pick me up.
and then that sinking, empty realisation. we could see to the side of the stage another club assembling, with the same self assured grins.
We hadnt won. it was a tarp all along. our clubstand reduced to a campsite, a mere 100m out of the camping ground and into the show ground would see us walk away with the prize. not today buster. still it would have been space-time bending to have everything go our way this weekend.
whats a camping trip without a glaringly obvious logistical error afterall??
on July 18, 2011, 7:30 am
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