More than 24 hours on and I'm still wrecked.
Jamie had me up at 5am this morning and then tonight showed me his ever-developing ability to wrestle - whilst I was trying to put his nappy on. And then his vest. And his sleepsuit. Oh, and his Slumbersac. Brilliant. It's just as well I'm such a laid back type of character (ahem).
Anyway, back to the long weekend just gone.
The principal reason for the trip was to attend the final practice session and then raceday of the 2009 North West 200, the world's biggest, fastest and best motorcycle roadrace event.
I was also there last year and had a great time. But this year, neither I nor the 120,000-odd other spectators were so fortunate. The weather was horrible, the races were continually stopped after riders fell off and, tragically, one young rider - 23-year-old Mark Young from Cookstown - lost his life after crashing out at high speed in the first race.
These things happen in roadracing - local legend Robert Dunlop was killed on the same section of the course between Coleraine and Portrush last year - but it is shocking nonetheless and obviously very, very sad for his family and everyone connected with the event.
On a happier note, being out all day Saturday with my dad (above left) and Vanessa's stepdad Mike made the venture worthwhile. Mike is bike mad and still rides his monster BMW machine around Yorkshire and beyond when he has the time and the strength to wheel it out of his garage. And the howling wind created a readymade excuse for my dad to drink copius amounts of brandy and port on his arrival home. It was an excuse he didn't waste.
Vanessa's mum Judy joined us three men (ROAR!...beat chest...etc... etc... ) on Friday for a trip round the pits area of the course in Portstewart. Admittedly it wouldn't really have been her ideal choice for a day out but one little episode undoubtedly made it memorable (although probably did little to cure her sleeping problem).
Like most people, I had heard of the so-called Wall Of Death which apparently used to be a common feature on fairgrounds in days past. But I'd never seen anyone motorcycle around one in anger. On Friday the four of us put that right. It genuinely was one of the maddest things I've ever witnessed. Indeed at times it scared the bejeezuz out of me. Thankfully none of the three bikers in the show - a father and his two sons - had as much as a scrape on them afterwards. But, for the life of me, I can't remotely understand how.
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