17th February 1989 - Prowlers BC
It seemed like only a few weeks since we were last here. This was mainly because it was only a few weeks ago we were here for the Prowlers Party, the site that overlooked a section of the M25 and its junction with the A41.
A lot of us knew how muddy the field could get so parked on the track alongside the field and set up our tents right at the edge.
The party began as soon as the bar opened, although some clubs had brought supplies with them to start beforehand.
Some girls had enough to start taking their clothes off a day early and a few people needed carrying back to their tents.
On Saturday, instead of staying in the field for the early session, the club camped next to me, Iceni MCC, walked along the canal at the foot of the field, along to a pub by a lock. One of their members, Arnie Taylor, made a habit of calling pubs near to rallies they were attending, checked that bikers were allowed, and warned the pub to get a bit more beer for the day. We spent a few hours there, I think lunch was available as well, larked around in the playground a bit, then wandered back to the field, carefully avoiding the canal and anglers.
We arrived after the games had started and missed the caber tossing. The Bag Piping was a bit different this year, due to the field being a bit boggy, having been rained on a lot recently. Those that would have been pillion passengers, had to put beanbags on the pipes riding piggyback on the drivers.
Later on, in a break in the music, the eating and drinking contests were suitably disgusting. In the Miss Fling contest, a regular contestant showed that there was no longer any evidence whether or not she was a natural blonde! Thereafter the party resumed in a drunken haze as is customary at these events.
Sunday morning was miserable, and the field was very muddy. Those who had parked on the track, smugly loaded up their bikes, although Graham Daniels's smugness was lost when he managed to slip on one of the remaining patches of wet grass.
One of the Iceni decided their tent was too badly damaged to use again, so it was ceremonially burnt, (thrown on the bonfire). Mine was fine, though, so after a short hop home, it got hung up to dry in my shed until next time.
- Phil (the Spill) Drackley