Heaven & Hell 08-09-2003
- 28 May 2013
Well folks, my annual 3 days in heaven has once again, sadly concluded.
Before I start I should warn you of a very disturbing trend.
The bare midriff fashion seems to have been taken up by the middle aged &
elderly over here. I just walked past a lady(?) who would have been at least
mid fifties, about 5 foot 6, 15 to 16 stone wearing tight pants & a tight
top with this whacking great roll of blubber bulging out jiggling away as if
it was some perpetual motion machine. The best way to describe it is to say
that it resembled a pasty, white inner tube with nice big dark purple
stretch marks.
Soooooooo appealing.
{mosimage}
If you lot thought that I had a remarkable time at Goodwood last year you
are not going to buhleeeeeve what happened this time.
More of that later. (Got to keep you in some sort of suspense)
Unfortunately Friday had a little hell in heaven when firstly, that rather
lovely orange McLaren M1B that I got some good shots of coming out of the
chicane last year was totally destroyed against the grass bank at St Mary's
(where Stirling Moss ended his career back in '62). I was talking to David
Piper (of green Ferrari fame - speaking of which, he happened to be sitting
in his gorgeous Ferrari P4, 1 of only 4 ever built, at the time of this
conversation) who described the carnage. There were parts of it spread about
for 200 yards or more & not even the cockpit was in one piece. Fortunately
the driver somehow miraculously emerged without a scratch.
Even worse was to follow however, in an accident that looked completely
innocuous. The driver of a C type Jaguar went into the first turn a bit too
quickly & lost the back end. He ran wide onto the grass & then began a slow
sideways skid into the gravel trap (for those of you that don't know they
are designed for just this sort of situation to stop cars before they hit
anything solid). In 999 times out of 1000 this would have been the end of
the story, but the wheels (being side on) dug into the gravel & the car very
slowly rolled onto it's top. Most of these old cars are raced exactly how
they once were & in most cases that means no seatbelts or rollover bars. As
his car rolled over the driver fell out (the C type doesn't have a roof) &
the car then landed on his head. It didn't look good from the word go as
about 4 rescue vehicles & ambulances turned up but when the cops started
arriving on the scene everyone feared the worst. He was carted of to
hospital & racing was abandoned for the day. We arrived in the morning to
the news that somehow, he had survived & was in a serious but stable
condition( which was a lot better than it first looked) & at the end of
events on Sunday was still stable.
As I was sitting here typing this I caught the tail end of the headlines of
a news bulletin in which it was mentioned that the unfortunate is still in a
critical condition.
Bugger of an end to a brilliant weekend.
On a brighter note however, was the rest of the weekend. Being a member &
all got into all sorts of places the riff raff can't & had a grand time
chatting with (get this list folks); 1961 world champ Phil Hill, 1970 Le
Mans winner & former GP racer Richard Attwood, as previously mentioned
ex-Ferrari Sports car driver David Piper, former Ferrari & McLaren GP winner
Gerhard Berger, 1987 Motorcycle world champ Wayne Gardner, GP winner Jochen
Mass, female F1 driver Desire Wilson & many more of the local historic
drivers such as the slightly(?) insane Barry Williams (the one power sliding
the Morris Minor last year).
It was good to see that after 2 years Richard Attwood has finally got his
old F1 BRM P261 running properly, he couldn't even get it running as late as
2 weeks ago at Oulton Park. So properly that he ended up on pole position &
winning that race.
One of the other folks I ran into in the paddock was that master of cocked
up commentary, the inimitable Murray Walker. And this folks is where the
story start to take on an amazingly unbelievable turn. It was during the
late lunch break on Saturday after qualifying & before the start of the
first race.
During our chat we both realized at about the same time that he was supposed
to be on the other side of the circuit in the March enclosure (That’s the one
for toffs like me & Lord March etc) signing autographs. This part of the
conversation went something like this;(Murray) "Oh dear, what's the time? I
just noticed your badge & I think I'm supposed to be somewhere."
(Me) Looks at watch " Ah yes, just after 3 & you should be in the March
enclosure signing autographs."
(Murray) Looking confused - "Oh dear, do you know where that is?"
(Me) " yeah, follow me, I was heading over there when I stopped to chat
anyway."
All sounds a bit average doesn't it?
From there I led him to his appointment (we got there about 10 minutes late)
chatting about life, F1 & Goodwood.
The rather worried looking GRRC (Goodwood Road Racing Club) official who was
in charge of this event was most grateful & said, after Murray explained what
happened, "Thanks, I owe you one."
"S'auright" says I, assuming it was just a figure of speech & as Murray
started his duties I wandered over to the bar, got a drinkie & strolled off.
Remembering how one slightly dubious fellow in a kilt from Windsor (ours not
theirs) obtained a mechanics armband & got us into the pits last year, this
slightly dubious fellow in a kilt(well, actually, Sunday was the first day I
didn't wear it as the weather forecast was for torrential rain - not enough
time to dry it out if it got drenched) obtained in a very similar way
another mechanics armband from a team that had completed it's activities for
the weekend & was intending on using it to, once again, get into the pits
after the lunch break. As I was walking through the March enclosure on my
way to the pits the no longer worried GRRC official (who shall remain
nameless as he wasn't supposed to do what he was about to) spotted me &
said, "Ah, you're the chap would brought us Murray yesterday. I've been
looking for you since then. We really appreciate what you did, is there
anything you would like or I can do for you?"
The words "Nah, it's OK." had barely left my lips when a lightbulb flashed
on in my noggin.
"Well actually, what is the chance of getting a press pass for the rest of
the day?" May as well try do this legally thinks I reckoning the chances of
a positive result were about zippo, squat & diddley.
"Come with me, I'll see what I can do." says GRRC man.
"Chances have improved to bugger all" thinks I.
Ten minutes later I have left his site office with an official Photographers
armband proudly strapped on thinking "Fuck me, it's bloody amazing what
happens when you have the balls to ask."
So folks, for the last 4 races I was once again wandering the pit lane,
walking around the inside of the track getting nice & close & taking lots of
shots on the grid & victory celebrations and chatting with the drivers (and
the delectable Amanda Stretton who was having a weekend off from driving &
acting as the pits commentator) as they received their laurels of walked
gloomily away from a broken car. Again, Richard Attwood & David Piper spring
to mind is this context. Lovely blokes, both of them. Totally managed to be
in the wrong spot when anything happened however. I guess I had used all my
luck for the day.
Had just packed up & walked away from the spot where, if I had stayed
another minute, I would have had a superb shot of an almighty prang at the
chicane involving one very badly bent GT40.
Still, I was in nirvana again & as with last year got plied with free Verve
Cliquot by pretty young lasses after the racing finished. Unfortunately
unlike last year, they underestimated the amount required this year so I
didn't get to take a bottle home. Dang!!!
For all those skeptics out there, I have both the mechanics armband that I
nicked & the Photographers one that I didn't. So
Nyyyaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! (A sound like a raspberry but with no
tongue movement.)
One wonders how it can get much better next year? Maybe I will have to apply
for a press pass & do that for all 3 days.
I may not have a job but I cannot see me not being here again in 12 months.
It's just too good.
Now to get ready for Egypt.
What a bugger of a life.
F.U.S.B.