Our slope magician and waver of the weather wand, Ant Jervis, once again found a hole in the hitherto clarty conditions and delivered us of fine weather, cloudless sky and a useful breeze. Various rogues and ne’er-do-wells foregathered, depositing foam, plastic and tape-wrapped bolides onto the tussocky ‘Gate’ pits. Some were looking for glory, others
There are times when the stars align, someone bends a knee and chants Wiccan oaths, because Samhain is drawing near. Was it Ant Jervis, or were others arrayed in the Pagan circle? Whatever the reason, the last Sunday in October dawned clearer than expected, the forecasted harsh wind had calmed and the sun shone. The