Issue 142 : August - September 2005
Farmyard before the flood
Farmyard after the flood
Triumph's Speed Triple
HOGs in St Tropez
BMW Aqua Bike
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Farmyard before the flood
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Before the flood'The Best Farmyard ever' said many - great weather, great bands, great food, great fires, great atmosphere - shame about the rain...
Normally when going to the Farmyard, we just wait until the queue reaches Durham and join on the end. This year we decided taking the Friday off work was the best idea. We knew from past years that arriving late afternoon at the Farmyard site at Duncombe Park means camping a mile or so down the valley. In fact there was one year we had to camp so far away from the arena that we ended up attending the previous year's rally again. We had been told to travel south until the amount of lemonade in the shandy exceeded 75%. Following these instructions we arrived in Helmsley around 11.30am, in time to pitch our tents quite close to the main arena & in time for the many onsite bars opening at 12.30pm. By 12.35pm we were enjoying a relaxed pint of real ale in the fold out bar in the main camping area. We liked the fold-out pub as it was the only one selling real ale. It would be nice if at least the Blues Tent could sell proper beer as well. After a couple of pints of 'Old Gadgies Knob Shriveller' we decided it was time to play the traditional game of Farmyard Chicken, otherwise known as checking out the catering vans and stalls whilst avoiding being run over by a trike carrying half a ton of firewood. On the way we checked out the products stall and discovered that the Organiser, Pete Walker had even modelled for the T-shirt as well as setting up the entire rally single handed. There was a good (if expensive) selection of food to be had, but as usual after a few beers, curry won again. We sat eating whilst watching the never-ending stream of bikes and trikes of all shapes and styles arriving on site. The party was filling up fast and the atmosphere was chilled! After a few more ales we had a leisurely stroll around the 30 or so trade stalls selling everything you could possibly want, including a stall selling & fitting very reasonably priced bike tyres.
Saturday afternoon we had a ride out and met some friends who couldn't attend the rally because of the recent or imminent arrival of children (we couldn't understand why this should affect the blokes though). On returning to the rally site, the valley was hot and steamy, so we found it necessary to check out the bar again - just to make sure everything was OK. The bike show had obviously been a great success and the crowds were still admiring entries. We couldn't check out the comedy tent because of the notice warning of offensive language, but we met this big bloke wearing a cowboy hat and carrying a walking stick who told us it was a great show - perhaps we should have it at Stormin'? But then, us Northerners like to be different!
To sum up, we all agreed that this year's Farmyard was the best in recent years and that atmosphere seemed more relaxed than usual. As long-term rally organisers we appreciate what goes into putting on these events and we were all gutted when we heard what had happened on the Sunday evening. It was bad enough for those who were left on site but if it had happened the previous day the consequences would have been unthinkable. All we can do now is to try to help those who lost their possessions and it is good to see that the biking community is rallying round to help. Veece, Michele, Jim & Liz, Stormin' Committee It's the small things that slip your mind when it comes to The Farmyard, the tent peg friendly ground for a start. No bent pegs or need of a mallet, which is just as well because it is one thing that I always forget. There was a smattering of rain and I thought to myself, "here we go again, another wet one." Ron thought the same thing but in a completely different context (enough of which). The gods had decided otherwise and a fine weekend of sunshine ensued. The ancient Ron fellow acquired sunburn along the way and claimed his errant behaviour was down to sunstroke. He even quipped that the medics wanted to chopper him out. How prophetic his words were given the flooding on Sunday evening. Myself along with my small band of intrepid cub reporters set off for the long walk into Helmsley. Unlike last year we had not touched a drop of the nasty before setting off, sobriety and marches through the countryside are strange bedfellows and no mistake. Whatever happened to mad dogs and Englishmen in the midday sun?
Mick Musson arrived back from Helmsley some time later. I cannot account for his exact mental condition, however, he must have been having some sort of aberration as he managed to cook his sausages and black pudding in fairy liquid (he does seem to get himself into all sorts of problems where food is concerned) This didn't put everyone off, one of the hardier lads tried to eat a piece of soap laden black pudding, albeit briefly. Ron the bronzed (red) ancient one donned his kilt for the evening festivities. A Scottish lad took exception to a Sassenach wearing the kilt until Ron persuaded him that Grimsby is on the east coast of Scotland. Expanding on this theme he had the poor chap convinced that he was a native Glaswegian and only spoke in an English accent after having suffered a stroke and awoken with a new voice. Ron got a little cocky with this and was soon tumbled on Saturday night when he challenged another Scotsman to ask him anything about Glasgow so that he (Ron) could prove his lineage. Unfortunately the fellow concerned was actually from Glasgow and the impostor was exposed. Not the sort of chap to abandon a successful theme, I witnessed the kilted loon claiming to be from Newcastle, London and all points west. The two Danes he accosted looked bemused and proceeded to address him in Swedish, unfazed he managed to bluff his way through it and was soon held in some esteem by his former countrymen. Not to be outdone I convinced a gullible first timer at the Farmyard that the hills on either side folded down akin to Thunderbirds, to reveal a huge housing estate on one side and a steel works on the other. There is more and more to do and see at the Farmyard these days, its a long time since 1987 when about 300 of us had a party in a barn. The amount of stalls seems to be ever increasing and from the little I saw of them the prices were pretty reasonable. There were a couple of really interesting things as well. The Blackhawk Hearse was brilliant and I daresay a lot of people stowed the business card in their wallets for future use, I know I did. The disabled trike at the NABD stall is a masterpiece of innovation and would also be a great tool in the able bodied version, which I understand has three seats in the cockpit (for want of a better word). There was a climbing wall for the kids and a rodeo machine for the foolhardy, clay pigeon shooting and the ubiquitous bike show. We heard that Holy Joes, the C.M.A. (Christian Motorcyclists Association) tea and coffee tent were on site, so we popped in for tea, biscuits and a spiritual interlude in a long weekend of debauchery. Rocket the Jack Russell was very much taken with the place as they had custard creams among the biscuits and the lord is well aware that they are his favourite. It was good to see them back on the MAG scene after a few years without them. I have spent a few hours in Holy Joes back in the eighties. Mind you the CMA must have known something we didn't as we watched them building a boat behind Holy Joes. Gary Edwards the now almost legendary tent spotter and indeed inventor of this harmless if eccentric pastime, arrived on Saturday afternoon, note book and pencil in hand. It would appear that now his peccadillo is common knowledge he no longer has to conceal his passion. I caught up with him later on and he was in a highly agitated state over some rare tent or other that he had managed to spot on his way to the bar. He did disappear at regular intervals throughout the evening, notebook peeking rather obviously from his back pocket. He is now gathering something of a fan base and was busy fielding questions on how to get started at tent spotting at one stage. Wendy and Mr Mutch were selling his latest book from a small gazebo just outside the main MAG marquee. This became something of a focal point for some of the longer standing members that know each other well. Folk came and went to and from the bar and we could hear the bands and hold a conversation with little effort (old farts that we are). It was good to see Izzy, formerly of Beverley and now Serbia had made the trip on his ever-reliable Norton rotary. Smithy from Kendal (his navy rum just about finished me off), the long suffering Mrs Edwards, Phil Shuker, Neil Liversidge (our erstwhile chairman), and many others. I noticed in the entrance to the field that contained the rave tent a beautiful wooden bench with Simon carved into the backrest. I can only assume that it was in memory of Simon Millward. I had a quiet moment of contemplation sat upon while I drained my tankard and went in search of fresh supplies. I think he would have enjoyed that. A funny thing really because he was never the kind of man to sit still for long and seems a bit perverse given the shock and devastation of the floods on Sunday evening, that you could almost imagine him surfing toward the bridge on that very bench, whooping away as he used to. I got the news of the floods late on Sunday and was pretty saddened for all concerned especially after all the hard work put in, the loss of possessions not to mention bikes is bad enough, however at least there were no deaths among our brethren. Goodnight Ferg |
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FARMYARD 2005
Around 8.00pm we made our way, (via the bar, again) to the main stage to check out the first of the night's bands, a very average performance from the Mick Rutherford Band. The next band up, Quo tribute band On the Level from our very own northeast, was good boppy party band, which many obviously enjoyed. Headline band, 70's popsters The Glitter Band hit the stage around 10.30 to the biggest crowd of the night. Just as well most revellers had filled up with ale all night, as it made the band a little more tolerable. Not sure the singer appreciated the chants of "you fat bastard" though. We left before the set ended to check out the blues bar. On arrival we saw a tremendous band, Trilogy, certainly not blues but very entertaining indeed. It was there we met some off-duty members of the Stage Power crew who supply the power for both The Farmyard and Stormin' and were forced to consume even more alcohol.
Saturday night we again headed for the main stage to check out the opening band, Fugitive, a good rock set from what appeared to be a decent & well seasoned rally band. Next up, the very good Stax Bros, belting out a great set of classic soul, the singer, so Veece believes, used to be in chartband Q-Tips back in the 80's after Paul Young left. The headliner for the evening was Sabbath/Ozzy tribute band Ozzbest. Veece was looking forward to this band as he'd never heard of them & has managed another Sabbath/Ozzy band for several years. It was all rather surreal as their set started with stilt walkers emerging from the dry ice on stage looking like enormous grim reapers. Ozzbest performed a cracking set gaining the biggest & most appreciative crowd of the weekend.
We visited the butchers (bbq); various market stalls (bbq), the toyshop (the mind and several practical jokes) and the pub (fuel for the long walk back). We did lose a couple of our number during this visit and by the time we got back to the bar on site, our numbers had shrunk to three (myself Ron and Rocket the dog).