Ben, an ex-workmate

with a penchant for buggery motor sports, was up visiting over the weekend and so Dave had industriously coordinated a corresponding return to the go-karting track. It was raining on and off, so we struggled to put on rubberised romper suits over our fireproof overalls (we were covered come hell or high water) and waddled out, gangster style, to the karts. There's nothing like howling winds, biting cold and the grating buzz of a two-stroke single to fire the petrol in one's veins, n'est-ce pas?

These were newish karts by the looks of things, with lots of mudguards and heatshields to guard against the dangers of burns and lawsuits, and yet they already felt somewhat...run in. After the heats, it became obvious why: put a bunch of bumpers on a go-kart and it turns into a dodgem. I was nudged onto the grass, into tyres and occasional head-on collisions and by the final I was determined to stay out of absolutely everyone's way, whether ruthless veterans or hapless newcomers.

And the final was good. A good clean race and a respectable 5^th out of 16 doesn't make for a thrilling story, but I was far happier (if rather bruised) by the end of it. I can't believe it's been so long since the Nürburgring trip, and our day of pretend racing has me wanting to do it again.

In the absence of any other excitement, this is going to have to be a short entry. But remember: Coba Fynn are playing the Liquid Ship tomorrow night. We'll be on last (erk - is this the "headlining" of which they speak?), at around 11.10 pm. Come along! It'll be a spectacle, regardless of which way the cards fall.