Is it me? 

As Jackie Kennedy said after her wedding to Aristotle Onassis, "I feel old age creeping up on me". Well, I've been feeling much the same this year as living becomes even more complicated with political correctness, health and safety, idiot teaching producing even more idiots and, whilst I'm at it, how on earth does a barking-mad-man like Berlusconi get to govern a whole country (mind you, they do have form). 

Back late last night from Cadwell with Classics after a curate's egg of a weekend. New tyres and pads dictated a test afternoon on Friday which was an utter wash-out - Cadwell's pit-straight being almost impossible to drive without aquaplaning into the armco. Morris and Pete managed a few laps in the morning but the afternoon was confined to keeping dry in the bar or motorhome. 

Saturday was a gloriously sunny day and to my delighted surprise we found ourselves surrounded by a VSCC meeting. I was woken by the PA announcing "Please hurry up chaps, the scrutineers are awaiting the pleasure of your company". We were surrounded by an array of characters in cars that were either immaculate or, in one case, held together with tank tape that had been painted over - wonderful stuff. Most impressive of all were the several thousand spectators in their own vintage and classic cars setting up picnics and quaffing champagne and wine. 

At one point, a short shower fell and a very elderly gentleman asked Colin if he could shelter under our awning, Colin obviously said it was OK and followed up by saying that tiffin would be served in 30 minutes - the old boy said how splendid the idea was and then asked Karen what book she was reading. He then told her that his wife often woke in the middle of the night and read books on philosophy - an activity which he found singularly perplexing! Later on I saw the old gentleman again, this time leaving for home driving the most superb open-top Rolls Silver Phantom, complete with goggles, and passengers dressed in period costume. A welcome reminder of a different time.

Meanwhile Jason and Colin fettled my car and completed the little jobs that would never get done otherwise. The four of us spent Saturday evening watching F1 quali' then having a splendid meal and drinkee-poos in Cadwell's cafe before retiring to Chez Hart and doing what successions of governments have failed to achieve. The evening was gloriously sunny with the view across the valley and through the dappled avenues of trees just about the best I've ever seen at a race circuit - I'm so pleased that Senna crashed there and, following his and F3's refusal to ever go to Cadwell again, thereby ensured that the track would remain untarnished by modernity (other than Dr Palmer's very splendid up-keep of the grounds and facilities).

Sunday morning brought the welcome faces of Michelle at BARC's signing on and husband John, scutineering. Clerks John Felix and Chris Gibson would ensure a less than school-mastery approach to our day and all was well in Lincolnshire. My new tyres just gave me "B" Class pole from Clive Wood with Mark and Pete being the only "A"s there. We were joined by the ever-cheery Tom Brown and the full Mallock team running Alan Cook, neither drivers having tasted Cadwell's delights before. Our first race late morning meant a fairly quick turn-around and for once, as I sat on row two alongside Clive I felt nervous - that's not happened for a very long time. Unsurprisingly, Clive dropped me on the line (I can share with my readers that sixty-six years of pottering about brings with it slower reaction times) and I set about catching him whilst fending off the attentions of Tom who - because I rate him as one of our top and safest drivers to be on the track with - gave me no cause for concern about defending myself in daft places. Having caught Clive in Hall Bends I had a look at the hairpin but, as I thought at the time, pressed the loud pedal too soon and spun, causing Tom to divert via Louth. I was furious with myself because I don't "do" spinning and set off in a state of rage with myself. Damn I thought, I've damaged the rear bodywork because of the smoke coming from the back; my rage overcame the leeriness of the handling through the flat Coppice and Charlies; then, as I decided against taking the Gooseneck flat I began to realise the problem was greater than bodywork. By Hall Bends I knew I was losing oil and, trying my best to stay offline, I limped into the pits to get the car fixed. What a stupid bugger I am - oil everywhere, not least around 2.17 miles of Lincolnshire. I felt dreadful, tried to have the race shortened because I knew the guys would be having a shit time on a track that doesn't often forgive an "off". In particular I ruined Pete's race with Mark and still feel ashamed 24 hours later. It transpired that my oil-pump was loose and had obviously been so for some time. Apart from the drivers, I also apologised, via the Chief Marshall, to all the track Marshalls. After ten minutes the message came back from every post that they'd saved me a brush and a lorry full of cement dust and were looking forward to seeing me before the next race! 

And so the rain fell later as promised and, as we left the collection area, we were given two green-flag laps but wouldn't be shown the green flag because they didn't have one! We duly arrived on the grid based on race one's results but without start-line Marshalls. It was absolutely pissing down and, if there was a count-down, I saw nothing until the lights went red then out again. After a split second waiting for Pete to set-off I thought I'd better bugger off the line quickly and despite some idiots not having their rain lights on (having been told to by Mike Wright in the collection area), we all got going without incident. Having started from the back of the grid and being fairly well blind from our excellent Dunlop wets, I eventually somehow got behind Clive, albeit some way behind and losing time each lap. The only excuse I can offer for a less than Hart-like performance around Cadwell was that this was my first race in the wet with specs on and I should have left them off because, as I sit up high, the rain comes into my visor and I got a double helping of rain on visor and specs. I was disappointed for Jason and Colin, who'd worked their nuts off after the first race, because I couldn't repay their dedication to this old-fart's racing. 

Pete decided to protest the race because of the start-line shambles, which I endorsed. Added to which poor Alan aquaplaned off just before Coppice and, with less than perfect visability for the drivers, left him and debris there with a delay before the yellows were shown. Some have tried to defend the Clerk for the shambles claiming that, as we were assembled in grid order it shouldn't have been a problem. I disagree; we weren't told there was no start-line Marshalling, the visibility was so bad that it was difficult to spot a grid, but above all, it was fucking dangerous to set us off to race under those circumstances. I could almost hear those running our race in the warm and dry, It's OK, it's Clubmans, they won't mind". I can tell you that this writer minded - a lot! End of rant.

Onwards to another great track - Donington. Can hardly wait, particularly as my wonderful mechanic Jason has promised to be there, hopefully with assistant Colin to keep us drunk and happy.

Harty.

Such a shame about the weather at Croft - I, like others, had been looking forward to the pleasantries of the area, but wind, rain, and cold buggered up our expectations. 

Nevertheless, the ever cheery Clubmans spirit prevailed in our corner of the old railway straight. The hog roast on Saturday night was superb with over 70 guests crowded into the Champkin's new travelling emporium (the damned spell-check is insisting I spell travelling with one "L" - no wonder the kids can't  communicate in English sensibly anymore. Thanks Microsoft). I was impressed by those who ate and socialised (with an "s") outside because my nuts were freezing inside the awning, so goodness knows what it was like outside.

The weekend saw the usual highs and lows with Croft's gear wrecking track claiming Dave Facer and Mark Charteris; both re-appearing on Sunday with fresh gearboxes but in Dave's case for nought because his crank decided to break. That was one hell of a wasted journey from Essex. 

One of the most spectacular blow-ups I've seen happened to Adrian Lester on Saturday when he almost brought all UK flights to a halt with a white cloud of smoke to challenge Iceland's Grimsvotn. Actually, the best blow-up (I almost wrote blow-job) I ever saw was at Donington in the 80's when Mike Lane passed by on the pit straight in the days before pit-wall protection. The "A" Class engines then were just about on the limit of their development and as Mike changed gear into top, at least two of his pistons exited towards us still connected to the con-rods and parts of the crank and block. How none of us was maimed remains a mystery.

The Classic grid was shameful and the Cup/Proto one passable, which was just as well because there weren't any spectators that I could see. When I apologised (with an "s") to Dale Wells for the low grids he was philosophical and pointed out that all the grids we 20% down which meant they (BARC) would take a financial hit on the weekend and, no doubt, many others. Difficult times for many, but I can't help but feel the brakes are needed on our past unbridled spending. Thank goodness we don't live in Ireland, Greece, or Portugal.

Enough negativity. The positive bits of Croft were the hugely supportive BARC officials who obviously enjoy having us around. The standard of driving in both formulae was mightily impressive and therefore brilliant to watch, particularly in the Cup/Proto races. Even the reverse grid event had just one incident where other formulae probably wouldn't have made the the first corner - hence BARC entrusting us to give it a go. The startline Chief Marshall, Chris Gibson, even allowed Joy Batchelor on the start gantry for the reverse grid start. The paddock buzzed with much socialising and drivers and mechanics alike helping those with problems or the need for parts. Altogether a very nice way to spend a weekend with friends. 

The Gibsons had a clean sweep in Cup/Proto with Dad's Proto Nemesis just pipping Mark Charteris in his "A" Class Mallock for F/L of the weekend by a nadgers over 1 second. Daniel won all three Cup races in his Nemesis, but had to work bloody hard for his wins. In Mallock land, Mark Charteris was supreme in his wins, with Pete Harper continuing his run of bad luck with a DNF and 2nd. Deputy Chair, Clive Wood was equally supreme in "B" Class lowering the lap record twice, even eclipsing the FF1600 race times with a stunning 1min 30.5 in race two. It was heartening to see Paul Marshall on form under the stewardship of Dave Harwood - he even had the temerity to out-brake me into Tower, but 38 years of low-cunning saw the pass short-lived!

The wonderful Cadwell for us Classics on June 12th, with the equally wonderful John Felix as Clerk of the Course; then on to Rockingham with the Cup/Proto guys July 2/3rd. That reminds me - when Cup/Proto were last at Rockingham we had red-flag problems in re-forming the grid, resulting in raised blood-pressures and disquiet. If we changed our regs to include a pace-car that wouldn't have happened - think about it. It only needs your consent and it's done.

I was listening to the last ever broadcast by Humphrey Littleton, before he died, of ISIHAC the other day where Humph' told us that Samantha had to pop out to see an overweight male friend of hers. Apparently he's worried about his gut but Samantha says she can see where he's coming from.

More bollocks from the remains of my brain soon.

Harty.

As much as I always feel I'm going to be met some officious bastard as I trundle up to Silverstone's Stalag gates, I'm mostly pleasantly surprised by a smiley, helpful person. However, I am aware that others met the jobsworth this weekend - such a shame because it dampens what turned out to be a superb weekend.

Meanwhile everyone else seemed to be having a nice time (apart from Ray Mallock who went home on Friday with his engine in several plastic bags, and Mike Sales who ran his bearings in quali' one). The weather did what it said on the tin with quali' both days on an 'iffy wet track, but the races were all dry. A "misunderstanding" over tyres meant everybody had to use old rubber and perhaps realised how durable the Dunlops are - Mike Evans and others could have told you that 3/4 year-old Dunlops work very well as long as there's some meat on them, and they're kept in your bed in winter. That said, our Deputy Chairman, Clive Wood, calmly put on a brand-new set on Saturday afternoon - he was obviously in the Boy Scouts as a lad.

Commiserations to all those who didn't have an easy weekend. The ones I know about are Bob Yarwood and Phil Weaver who both had battery failure bugger-up their races. On Saturday evening I could see cars in bits everywhere as usual, but all seemed in control. Alex had discovered that 14,000 revs in second didn't work in race one, which was followed by the services of Paul Freeman throwing several 90 degree valves in the bin. Peter Harper span at Luffield on the last lap of his race two whilst regaining the lead from Mark and I'm sure there's plenty more "if only's". Never mind - luck WILL change for Croft.

This Blog is short (how dare you clap) because I'm off tomorrow with Glen Eagling and Stu', towing Tupper Robinson's Historic F3 Mark 4 Mallock to Pau, where Tupper is racing with the FJuniors at weekend.

However, I cannot finish without telling you that during the Cup/Proto race on Saturday I sat in race control with CofC. After the race the CofC asked me to pass on his personal thanks to every driver for a wonderful race without incidents. I bet that sort of compliment doesn't happen very often.

My entry is in for Croft - see you in Geordie land where, hopefully, a hog roast awaits us on Saturday night.

Harty.

What a delightful place Brands was last weekend for the Cup/Proto teams - Jamie had organised garages by way of being one of the meeting's pace car drivers in a quid-pro-quo arrangement with BARC. I guess the Brands paddock promotes a friendly atmosphere because it's self-contained and the teams are close to each other, which makes the whole event so much more relaxing.

Fifteen cars raced, with the sixteenth of Brian Jordan scratching due to flu. In the mix was Classic maestro Mark Charteris in his "A" Class championship car to challenge the might of five Proto Class cars. The Kathy and Martin Covill team, with their two Protos driven by Steve Everson and Phil Weaver, was, as ever, constant laughter throughout the weekend, despite the travails of gearbox and mis-fire gremlins on both cars. Pete Richings bravely competed despite it being the anniversary of Oulton last year, and was rewarded with being third quickest in Sunday's race. It was great to see Adrian Langridge in the mix again but, with his newly blond bonce I couldn't help thinking of him in his mankini - aaaah! Ian and Matt were kept busy with several teams discovering that they should have tested before the meeting.

Tyres proved to be the talking point of the weekend. Apparently there was mix-up after Howard attempted to forge a better deal for the drivers, and Dunlop assumed they'd lost the contract - whoops! The result being that everyone was struggling  - in Alex's case, canvas visible through the black bits. Luckily, with connections forged by Mark Charteris, Dunlop have promised to make some of our compound in time for Silverstone.

The driving standard was good with several very close dices resulting in an unavoidable spin and some exciting but permissable (unpassable) blocking. In all cases, apologies, hand-shakes, and smiles followed in parc-ferme.

Once the gremlins are sorted and new rubber attached I foresee a great year for Cup/Proto, and if the friendliness of the paddock is anywhere near what I witnessed, we're going to be laughing  a lot and enjoying Clubmans camaraderie for a long time.

Meanwhile yours truly is being MSA trained to become a badge carrying Driving Standards Officer. If you ever see me in grey slacks and a blazer - you have my permission to piss yourselves with laughter.

H'

I've had a super day at Mallory today where Morris (my son) drove my Mark 18 "B" Sport in a Sprint. I'd hoped to share with him (particularly as my Bob Yarwood rebuilt engine is giving enough power to plough 110 acres apparently!) but my eyesight didn't meet the MSA's standard - mostly it must be said because my doctor's 30 watt light bulb and 40 year-old chart eventually defeated me. Visits to Tesco's Optician, plus a second opinion at a local one, confirmed that I actually exceed the MSA requirement, but the delay meant no licence in time.

The striking thing about today was the behind-the-scenes action - Noreen and Alan Ward of BARC's Midland Centre, who organised this new event, are true enthusiasts who are driven by the need to allow the grass-roots competitor to have a thoroughly enjoyable day at a minimal cost. Even the circuit was altered to discourage F1 Sprint cars from competing by using the bike track, plus a chicane on the exit of Gerards. That meant that, for example, a Father and Son shared their little Nissan Micra in a class without feeling overwhelmed by wealth, posing, and noise. The entries also included a dozen or more Austin Sevens all battling it out in their own class - fantastic. Every class had trophies up to third (Morris won his) and the day was even extended to include a third run. In other words everything was geared to the competitor having a nice friendly time.

As well as Noreen and Alan, who usually officiate at major meetings around the UK, who should turn up as Chief Steward but John Felix! Here's a man who's Stewarded, Clerked, and Started just about every major race event in the WORLD in his almost 50 years of motorsport. He actually had the choice of Stewarding some major event in Australia this weekend but chose a tiny Mallory Sprint because he loves grass-root motorsport. Most of, if not all, the officials who've moved on to major race meetings wouldn't demean themselves to appear at a Sprint, but John's cheery personality pervaded throughout a thoroughly enjoyable sunny day in Leicestershire.

Today was about reminding myself where I started from in motorsport, and how important it is that we don't allow our egos to forget that there's some wonderful folk out there who enjoy the art of giving.

Here endeth Sunday's lesson.

I'm writing this from hospital following a stupid error of eating a daffodil bulb instead of an onion. Luckily the doctors tell me that I'll be out in the Spring............

H'

..and so farewell my friend. Sheffield and Port Talbot were many miles from each other but inexorably linked by steel making. In fact, when Karen's boss at British Steel in Sheffield was moved to South Wales in the 70s to make thousands of men redundant (yes, that's thousands), he asked her. as his PA, to move down with him. We house hunted in the area but decided against the move - if we'd known then that the talented Vernon and gentle Daphne were there we might have changed our minds.

There will be many memories of Vernon to reflect on over the next weeks and, though mourning the passing of a humble and talented man, I will revel in those stories.

"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living".
Cicero

Harty
8th March 2011

A shitty day in Sheffield with wet rain (you know what I mean). My newspaper tells me that snow and hail is on its way next week and I've not thawed out yet from last week - deep joy.

Retirement has many, many advantages, particularly for anyone who's spent a working life with multiple daily deadlines. The pure fun of doing what I want, when I want, will I hope never be taken for granted. The downside is, as I've mentioned in an earlier Blog, the temptation to fill the wine glass again in the evening rather than deep-freeze my bollocks (and other extremities) in the garage. I'm beginning to appreciate what money can buy at a stage of life where, other than Camelot, it's too late. One of my pals has central heating in his triple garage - bastard!

And so to a brief moment of reflection (blimey - I'm sounding like a God botherer). Clubmans "Newbies" won't have known Vernon Davies, but probably have heard about him. As I write this, Vernon is seriously ill, at home, with throat cancer. Here's a man who was too nice to make a big name for himself in motorsport, always shoe-stringing his racing, with a great deal of help from Arthur, Richard, and Ray Mallock, but with a natural talent up there with the very, very best. Since Vernon was diagnosed I've been liaising with his many friends around the world about his progress and one thing is abundantly clear - all of us who raced at the same time measured ourselves against him. There are so many stories of "How I almost beat Vernon" (note "almost"). I know that there have been many brilliant Clubmans drivers over the years (and still are) but Vernon's abilities, always using hand-me-down tyres, were truly awe-inspiring. I feel guilty about looking forward to racing again whilst Vernon has this evil disease.

OK, time for some irreverence. A true story - picture the scene at a grand funeral, some years ago, where my late eccentric pal, Malcolm, was being taken to his grave by a farm cart drawn by a black-feathered shire horse. As we trooped en-masse behind the cart, the Widow sneezed, thereby spooking the horse who reared up, throwing the driver(?) into the gap 'twixt himself and the whinnying horse. The cart skewed sideways, the driver screamed that he'd broken his leg and the "effin nag" had "effin trodden on his "effin" wedding tackle". Meanwhile the cart was turning on its side and sliding down the cemetery's slope taking several gravestones with it. By this time Malcolm had obviously decided enough was enough and his coffin gathered speed and overtook the cart heading for a nearby dry-stone wall. Everyone of us was transfixed with the scene (apart from the driver who was still "effin" away underneath the now recovered horse and cart). We waited for the inevitable destruction by the coffin of a third of the cemetery perimeter wall. Miraculously though, the coffin had come to a halt, resting against Gertrude McDougal (1887-1962). We held our breaths, fully expecting the coffin lid to burst open and Malcolm (our deceased pal) to jump out shouting "Ow's that for a funeral" (he was from Yorkshire). It ended somewhat anti-climatically without Malcolm appearing and recovery of horse, cart, and replacement driver. It was however the best funeral we've ever been to.

Macau based Nev' McKay has invited any Australian visitors to take part in one or more of their Clubmans series at Lakeside near Brisbane. He tells me that the circuit is like Brands - but better! The series is $750 US for all five rounds and he will supply a car. So that's around £650 return air fare, a cheap B&B at £200 plus all five races at around £500 which comes to £270 a race in sunshine whilst the UK freezes. Hmmm?

If you'd like to complain about me you simply join Bravenet's Blog service and you can log-on and leave a comment on my posting. I'll obviously ignore the comments but if it makes you feel better.......

Harty

For those Clubmans people who spend too much time inspecting the interiors of their own arses, I'd like to remind them of the bigger, world-wide, Clubmans fraternity.  Within the past 48 hours I was chatting via Skype to Nev McKay in Australia, who runs a Clubmans series in New Zealand. This evening I was exchanging emails with Clubmans driver and journo', Jeremy Shaw, in Los Angeles, Arthur Mallock's buddy, John Streets, in California, "old boy" Noel Stanbury in Portugal, an Clubmans Hillclimb enthusiast in France, and current Cup competitor, Pete Richings in Geneva. Not forgetting regular telephone and emails with the Scandinavian hordes of course, with their many different makes of Clubmans cars that we have.

For those of you who carry the burden of dislike for a fellow Clubmans competitor, let's banish petty differences and remember why we're racing in Clubmans - fun-loving folk having a nice time away from work, all over the world.

In a similar vein of the Clubmans spirit, I've been liaising with the widow of one of the Clubmans Register's founders, Robin Hall, today. Gill Hall is kindly giving the Register some of Robin's trophies gained whilst he and close friend, Barry Foley, raced their Lotus Seven derivative - Humbug. This took me back to 2006 at Sears Point where I met the owner of Humbug, which resided in a lock-up at the back of the circuit. To say the meeting was bizarre would be an understatement! Even in Californian terms the guy was barking - not so much in his inability to form understandable words in English, but more in his attire of a 1900 Casey Jones train-driver. I'm glad that Barry and Robin never knew where their car ended up.

There's a Chronicle in the pipe-line (the start of the pipe-line) so if any kind souls would like to contribute anything semi-legal, or send me inclusions for the Readers Wive's section (bloody hell, I've just remembered what the Clubmans average is), please email me at: clubmans.editor@gmail.com

Looking forward.............

Harty