this weekend i have had the joint privilege and misfortune of visiting the british grand prix at silverstone.
the trip has been organised for a long time now and i had almost managed to forget that i was attending, having paid the last of my £180 fee a long time ago to the college shop, a place now long forgotten in my mind since leaving college recently, signing out both in ink and in my mind this forgetting pretty much everything i have learned over the past two years. the venture began on a low note, with all those attending having to get up to the college to leave at 3.30am on saturday morning. I set my alarm for 2.47 thinking that this would be the latest possible time at which i could arise and still make it on time, trying to eke every last second of sleep out of the unnaturally short night. I've already worked eight long hours at sainsburys prior to heading to bed, the endless manual labor tiring my already exhausted and fatigued body to a point beyond that which i thought was possible. I manage to drop off at about 11pm and awake moaning and whinging and whining at the aforementioned hour, get my confused body a mug of coffee and a bowl of crunchy nut clusters and get in the car with dad for a lift up.
we sit in the cold in the college car park in the dark with five or six similarly dark cars until finally doog and jon arrive and everyone gets out and subsequently waves their parents or loved ones goodbye. liam tomlin arrives at this point, miserly and unwashed as ever, and we stand together and predict the weekend ahead as doog clambers out of his red fiesta and tries to figure out how to lock it.
the bus arrives around half an hour late, and having boarded we immediately run though a red light. liam and i look at each other and put our heads in our hands with a mixture of fear and regret.
the bus journey takes longer than i could ever have imagined and with more discomfort than i ever thought possible. In order to make matters considerably worse we also have to share the vehicle with a group of around 15 secondary school-age children from plymstock school, all with spiky spiny hair, pierced ears and loud voices. they proceed to shout and fight with each other all the way up to the racecourse leaving my sanity patience and temper in tatters on arrival.
we finally disembark the cursed vehicle at 11am and emerge into what can only be described as saharan, volcanic heat. i am wearing slim fit jeans at this point so there's no chance of a reprieve in rolling them up, and i have made the unwise decision of carrying my bag off the bus with me. the straps begin to chafe and rub on my shoulders after a few steps and i immediately regret my choice. Doog has previously realised that he has purchased child tickets suitable only for those aged 15 years or younger, but thankfully the staff on the gate let us in anyway and we stroll though and continue strolling bearing confused faces as we are denied entry to any form of seating across the course of one half of the racecourse. we contact doog and he tells us that our tickets do not permit us access to the luxury of a chair and we must instead sit in the dirt or remain standing. liam at this point begins voicing his regret on attending the trip and asking for his £180 back.
we eventually meet up with doog and jon and spend the afternoon watching the deafening qualifying races and porsche championships, both of which are entertaining and fairly spectacular in terms of speed. i begin to feel my neck burning in the 30 degree heat and relentless sunshine and so apply some of will pollard's factor 30 suncream to my neck. lunch, continuing from my healthy breakfast of a chicken and bacon sandwich, is a £4 sausage and chips, a £1.80 bottle of water and a £3.70 can of thatchers cider.
at the end of the day i board the bus and instantly see my error in not applying suncream more liberally (i.e plastering it all over my pale skinny body) as my arms turn beetroot red and i see in horror that my neck is literally glowing. the hotel we are staying in is an hour and half drive from silverstone itself and i swear to god it seemed like eternity and a day. we arrive at around half past 7pm and, having dropped off our stuff in the room, head over to frankie and benny's for a healthy tea of pizza. Liam and i bear the appearance of a gay couple as we take our seats at our table for two and order the same item, the "chicago grinder" folded pizza, which is remarkably delicious and blissfully filling.
we then head back to the hotel room and i soothe my burns in a cold shower for a good hour whilst liam watches road to perdition on the room's tv. we draft in a girl from the next room to open our window for us because our IQ is apparently too low for the task and stand sheepishly by the door as she opens it with a simple click. i fall unconscious on my bed at about half ten-11pm, by now missing the beautiful laura c so badly i could have cried or died.
we are awoken at ten to five the next morning to head down for breakfast, my body clock by now so confused that i immediately fall back into lethargy on leaving the bedsheets, have another cold shower to soothe the burns and climb into baggy jeans which i roll up to my knees to provide some kind of draught.
breakfast consists of toast, jam, frosties and an apple, my first portion of fruit or veg for 36 hours. we board the bus again and arrive at the track at around 8am. the heat is more bearable but i constantly apply will's suncream to my neck and arms as soon as the sun begins to shine. I also wear a cardigan around my neck for the entirety of the day in order to prevent further burning, much to the amusement of big jon and dirty dugan, who is by now swigging from a can of kronenberg and wearing a wifebeater.
the main race is thrilling and the first time that liam has stood up all weekend except when walking. I have a bacon cheeseburger for lunch along with some donuts, as the chips at about 10am weren't enough to satiate my hunger. I begin to hate fast food at this point, especially as the burger costs me £6 on the perverse silverstone economy, on which everything is three times the price you would expect it to be in the real world. we have a good view of the track but unforunately nothing hugely exciting happens up our end, but we still get our fix of thrills and board the nightmarish bus promptly again at 3pm. we set off on the endless journey back home, whining all the way, shouting and swearing and cursing the presence of the schoolkids, who are all by now shirtless and yelling and have pink colouring in their hair.
we arrive home at around half past ten and finally stretch our aching bones having only stopped once along the way to eat dinner, a healthy combination of cheeseburger and bacon, my second of the day. my stomach screams no as does my mind but choices were slim and i refused to indulge in a KFC on that day. I am finally reunited with my beaaaaaauuutiful girlfriend after what seems like a lifetime and we have the best hug ever, words can't describe the happiness as she came through the door and i could hear her voice again. we've spent the past two days in constant company of each other and have made amazing cupcakes which sadly i forgot to photography, but they were bright red and had thick blue icing and glitter on top so imagine a cupcake might look if it were baked by mermaids and you're pretty much there.
i am broke at the moment but it's payday on friday and my EMA bonus should be coming in soon so its all gooooooood. I've already bought myself my ipod which is a thrill and relief, i didn't realise how much i was missing having one until i had one again.
all in all i would rate the grand prix experience at around 6/10, entertaining but very stressful and hot and expensive. make sure you get a seat and pack suncream and jorts.
I have once again been instructed to blog by my gorgeous girlfriend whilst she works in order that when she returns home she will be able to log onto this blog as its one and only reader and soak up all the delicious literacy that has been coped out of my little head.
