Ok, so there we are, Paparazzi Scum Friend (Mettler*) and me aiming to get to the Goodwood Festival of Speed early this year and nab a tabard each and get good access therefore decent pics as a result.
We arrived at 9.15am. Early in my mind. Not early in the mind of the tabard hander outer.
Wander around for a bit and slip unaware into the world of the 'pap'. I don't like it there. I'm not very good at it. I find it hard to barge past a disabled kid waiting patiently for his hero to sign a Vodafone McLaren Mercedes baseball cap to 'get the shot'. Not Paparazzi Scum Friend though. He loves it. He's all elbows and shouty shouty.
So, I sit and start dreaming of our lovely roast dinner and pavlova (or two) (or three) pudding, lunch in a couple of hours.
Our lunch slot falls upon us and obviously getting our priorites right, we leave the waiting for the LMP1 Aston Martin Lola to go up the hill and head off toward our raison d'etre - le beuff dinner avec yorkshire pud - a oui.
In the que for lunch I notice the lack of beefy beefy smell and ask...
...My eyes follow the pointing finger toward a pile of sandwiches with our names on them. "I thought they were for the 'weirds', who didn't want a roast dinner." ? :cry:
Roast beef and all the trimmings and pavlova and pavlova and pavlova has turned into ham and cheese roll and a Twix.
So, obvioulsy we take a pocket full of Twix's on principle) (bad move on a sunny day - for the record).
We devour afore mentioned scoff feeling hard done by. "Distusting". "Used." "Need a shower after this treatment". "not doing this again".
Ten mins later....
same time next year?
*He got this name as he indeed once was a heavy mettler. The record that broke him and changed him normal and made him burn all his Sepultua and Carcass records was...wait for it...'Two Unlimited - No Limits'. An Epiphany in itslef I believe. :roll: )
We arrived at 9.15am. Early in my mind. Not early in the mind of the tabard hander outer.
Wander around for a bit and slip unaware into the world of the 'pap'. I don't like it there. I'm not very good at it. I find it hard to barge past a disabled kid waiting patiently for his hero to sign a Vodafone McLaren Mercedes baseball cap to 'get the shot'. Not Paparazzi Scum Friend though. He loves it. He's all elbows and shouty shouty.
So, I sit and start dreaming of our lovely roast dinner and pavlova (or two) (or three) pudding, lunch in a couple of hours.
Our lunch slot falls upon us and obviously getting our priorites right, we leave the waiting for the LMP1 Aston Martin Lola to go up the hill and head off toward our raison d'etre - le beuff dinner avec yorkshire pud - a oui.
In the que for lunch I notice the lack of beefy beefy smell and ask...
...My eyes follow the pointing finger toward a pile of sandwiches with our names on them. "I thought they were for the 'weirds', who didn't want a roast dinner." ? :cry:
Roast beef and all the trimmings and pavlova and pavlova and pavlova has turned into ham and cheese roll and a Twix.
So, obvioulsy we take a pocket full of Twix's on principle) (bad move on a sunny day - for the record).
We devour afore mentioned scoff feeling hard done by. "Distusting". "Used." "Need a shower after this treatment". "not doing this again".
Ten mins later....
same time next year?
*He got this name as he indeed once was a heavy mettler. The record that broke him and changed him normal and made him burn all his Sepultua and Carcass records was...wait for it...'Two Unlimited - No Limits'. An Epiphany in itslef I believe. :roll: )
