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Home Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter
1
Hello,
good evening and welcome
The
build up to this event has been something of an adventure in itself.
Almost by the month we’d discover something new and exciting to
titillate us when we got to Monaco. There
were 3 distinct legs to the adventure, the Italian job, the Nice leg and the
Monaco race! As Saturday afternoon
approached, so the realisation that I was leaving my loved ones behind became a
reality. I’d not really expected
that as I was consumed with excitement at going to Monte Carlo for the Grand
Prix. Not really one for mush and
shit, but suffice it to say as I rolled out of my driveway with Mrs Monaco and
Little Monaco waving me goodbye, more than a solitary tear welled up!
To
rewind for a bit, I’ve loved Monaco for as long as I can remember.
I had the good fortune to see it in real life in 2001 and fell even more
in love with the place. Unlike some
of the times in life when one is disappointed with “something” not living up
to the hype, this place excelled it – and this was out-with F1 time.
There is something quite special about the place which can only be
quantified by a physical – real life visit.
As I made my way home from this adventure on the plane, I tried for some
time to actually put it into some form of legibility, however, I failed.
All I would say is that should you be reading this report then you’re
clearly an F1 fan (or a masochist) and I would advise anyone – everyone
to visit Monte Carlo. So, having
seen the place minus the F1 cars, and having been bowled over by it’s charm,
now I wanted – neigh – needed to understand how these 850 BHP
monsters threaded their way through those
streets.
Given
the friendships formed on the F1ngers newsgroup, I thought I’d ask if anyone
there would care to join me. See,
that’s what happens when you try to be polite on F1ngers, they go and bleeding
take you literally! Bank accounts
opened, deposits paid up and a party of eight agree to go.
As the months rolled by, so the jackpot grew – literally.
Unfortunately, (or having met Mr & Mrs FrriFrk – maybe that should
be fortuitously) Ade had to pull out through an unforeseen economy crash in his
part of the world. (I believe
chicken and oil prices got mixed up) Charlie
and Elena came through literally at the last hurdle and managed to make a bad
situation great! So now I’m sat
in Edinburgh airport on my first leg – Pat & Bob are meeting with me in
Gatwick and as I’ve met them before there’s little-to-no apprehension.
We
meet nae problemo and talk about anything and everything.
As the wine flows in the restaurant, it becomes apparent that the Barolo
is a bit too warm. No worries, a
polite word in the waiters ear and a fresh one appears.
Of course, he never took the first bottle back, so we gave it a good home
– warm an’ all as it was.
Now
on the aeroplane to Nice, with IDC & Toof awaiting us at the hotel.
Charlie & Elena are at Nice airport and the Rotors are not far behind
us in the sky. At the airport we
all eventually meet up – I am greeted by Elena to a pre-promised “whack
around my head” – It was the start of what was to be one hell of a week!
I mean, I’d only just said hello and already she was reaching for my
head with a clenched fist. Car hire
ala Frenchie style (i.e. it took ages and the chic was as rude as could be) and
we are on a bus to the car hire place. Bob
& I (the designated drivers) head off to collect the cars telling the rest
of the group to wait behind to save hauling their luggage to the car hire depot.
Sure enough, I get the “blue car” and Bob gets the “red car”.
(This matters later in the story)
We
try to get back to the awaiting F1ngers to take them to the hotel – alas, some
Frenchie Jobsworth goof decrees we are not allowed into this particular road.
No matter how loudly I spoke or how many hand gestures I made – he was
not for compromising. We park close
by (French style – just abandoned on the road double parked) and find the rest
of the team. Now all we need is
directions to the hotel which I’ve carefully printed off to tell us where to
go step by step of the way. It’s
a mere 5
miles from the terminal to the hotel, so I’m looking forward to a nice fast
journey to the Hotel Kent.
About
an hour and a half later, we arrive nice and refreshed at the hotel.
Having now seen all of downtown Nice – 8 times, we were raring to go!
May I take this opportunity to apologise to Charlie for the profanity
used with reference to his direction giving abilities.
I was unaware at this time how fabulous his directions actually were –
as the week progressed, how I longed for my friend Charles to be the dude with
the map. The Hotel Kent is a
charming little hotel with lovely views, 32 recently renovated rooms – which
are soundproofed. That was until we
arrived and found it to be some poxy little shit-hole where you could hear the
bloke next door unzip his flies. The
luxurious bathrooms would have put the Monza facilities to shame – but more of
that later. They have a novel idea
for showering in France – nowhere to fix the shower head.
By the end of the week, we had all perfected a technique for showering
one handed – not a bad thing if you know what I mean.
IDC & I were to be sharing a room and as he had got in earlier, he
had kindly decorated the room to make me feel at home – an Oz flag draped over
the curtains and alongside an inflatable kangaroo with a beer can attached to
it’s paw. HA!
Fantastic! Within minutes I
had the Saltire draped alongside – and so the tone was set.
The showers though were excellent – IDC & I had a competition to
see who could keep the floor the driest – (shower curtains are an expensive
luxury at the hotel Kent – as is a bath any bigger than the average sink) and
by the end of the week IDC won with a mere 4 feet of water all over the
bathroom. I did however manage to
win the “wettest-carpet-in-the-bedroom-from-the-bathroom” competition with a
semi circle measuring an impressive 6.2 feet in diameter.
Toof
was next to appear from his walk about in Nice and we all greeted warmly.
As Toof was the first to arrive, it had been pre-ordained that he would
find a suitable venue to watch the Indy 500 that very eve.
And in credit to the great man, he did indeed find a pub which was
showing the Indy 500 in Nice. Warm
congratulations all round from the rest of the team and we all shower (well,
whatever you call that thing where you crouch below water which is running
slower than a normal piss with one arm aloft in the air and the other trying to
scrub the nether regions – thanks to my significant other for his
understanding in this matter) and get ready for the first night as a
gang-O’-nine.
Into
the Toof pub we go, and they have like a huge full wall TV screen.
What they don’t have is any lights, any cloths or any atmosphere.
We had found a place to sit, however it was discovered when Pat went to
go for a piss that this pub had an interesting way of retaining their customers.
Rather than do something stupid like clean the place (well, when in
France eh?) they have left the bench seats and table to gather around 3 years of
sticky ale. This was made all the more interesting given that some of us had
shorts on. Coupled with this fact
was the noise level and distinct lack of any atmos’ whatsoever.
I had a word with IDC about finding something a bit more suitable for our
first night and sure enough, with a 15 minute struggle and some assistance from
the French equivalent of He-Man, (who we later met in the Guinness pub at the
end of our street) we prised ourselves away to find somewhere with less stick
and more chic. On the way we had a
wee laugh about (or is that aboot?)
Mrs GnJ. Unfortunately, Mr. GnJ had
omitted to mention that there were some people on the trip who enjoyed sucking
on fags as a past time. This led to
much seat rearranging with Elaine as she was an ARDENT anti-smoker.
Well, she was since she’d given up smoking herself eh?
HA! HAHA! HAHAHA!
IDC
& I find somewhere not too far away and go back to get the rest of the
goofs. En route (you impressed with my grasp of the French language after a mere
nine days?) we stop off and procure some neat alcohol to get the others off
their seats. So, 3rd
degree burns all round, we manage to walk them off along the Promenade towards
our chosen destination. How
romantic it was to see the couples hand in hand with t
We
get a table for neuf (I rock at French) in this charming restaurant run by this
lesbian burd. I had made it
perfectly clear that I was NOT having a lot to
drink that night as we had an early start and a long drive the next day.
The
gang O’ NINE. L 2 R – Pat, Me,
Dave P, Bob, Toof, Charlie, Elena, Elaine, Dave R.
The
scene was set – the trip was about to rock and roll and we were to have the
most remarkable adventure. The plan
for tomorrow was to drive to Maranello to see Ferrari, En Route (cool) we were
to drive the Grand Prix circuit in Monaco – cooooooool.
Cigars had been smoked, food had been eaten, wine had flowed,
conversations had been had, insults had flown back and forth – but most of all
the gang O’ nine had broken bread and set the tone (lower than a snakes belly)
for a week of pure and utter mayhem! Laugh?
Jesus – I know it’s a commonly used cliché, however, I laughed more
in that week than I have for a long – long time.
Never a dull moment, peppered with real life NG banter and ready-made
insults thick and fast. I’ve
skipped the first night a wee bit because – well, because all I can remember
is a Swedish burd (“Oh, Sweden eh? Abba
and Volvo’s – and this is our Dancing Queen called Pat”) and a lesbian
burd with short hair. Whether she
was or was not a dyke was irrelevant – she had short hair and “that” glint
in her eye – therefore she was a lesbo – well, she was to me.
My friends, my ladies and gentlemen too
Oh and the rest of you gather and listen and I’ll orate to you
About a trip you’ll remember for the rest of your years
But first for Sweet Jesus someone get in the beers!
This race we have chosen is The Jewel in the crown
But first my good friends – lots of booze we must down
3 continent united in their love for the race
From America and Canada – isn’t that the same place?
Scotland, England and Oz make up the rest of our crew
How will this trip be? Well that’s up to you!
The best laid plans are completed and here
For the love of Jesus – where the hell is the beer?
The order of play is exciting and real
From France to Italy then Monaco with zeal
We’ll laugh, we may cry but we will always recall
This adventure we’re taking – it will be a BALL
Has it sunk in my friends that we’re here on this soil?
Or are you like me – your mind in turmoil?
Excitement you see will overcome and consume
I’d wager your all glad you’re not in MY room
A long drive to Italy – you may experience fear
Then Ferrari awaits, then later more beer?
To Monza we’ll head and the banking awaits
By the time we’re heading back here – I know we’ll be mates
Then a challenge is set from our friend Mr. Brown
To race around Grasse – who’ll lift THAT crown?
On Thursday as we set off for the Café de Pairs
We’ll be in Monte Carlo at last – and the wine will be FREE!
To the Columbus at night – What a stroke of luck
We’ll eat, drink and be merry – and a toast to oor Buck
The weekend’s now here and to the balcony we go
As the best of the best slug it out toe to toe
Monday will arrive too soon for us all
And back to our real lives will come the call
But this trip’s what WE make it so it’s up to us folk
OK, now it’s time for a JD & coke
What has brought us together – this crew of nine?
For the love of Jesus – now I need some more wine!
It’s the ‘net that bonds us this ragtag wee troop
From a cyberspace chartroom – The F1ngers Newsgroup
It’s not a place for faint hearted, it’s far too intense
It’s not often a place which makes a great deal of sense
Yet there’s an undefined friendship which transcends mere words
How ironic we’ve arrived here thanks to the nerds!
The passion & the humour,- the group as a whole
The rivalry, the stupidness – most likely it’s soul
Have forged friendships and laughter in abundance through time
Like we will in real life – this group of nine
We all know what’s ahead – some fantastic fun
As we indulge in our passion for Formula One
On Thursday we’ll see them – and hear them full blast
Will we laugh at Wilson, Verstappen or JV when last?
It’s the winners we’ll be watching from our vantage up high
Will it be Schumi, DC or Kimi who fly?
As they race through the streets of the Princi-pal-ity
I’ll be willing the Scotsman – CUM ON DEECEE
And see it we shall and we’ll never forget
That in 2003 this gang of nine met
From 3 continents we united and had lots of fun
And all for the love of Formula One.