I didn't even know the dozy prawn (sorry, esteemed editorial unit) had fallen off, unfortunately. I was watching the race and when he failed to come around, I just assumed that he'd pulled off at the pits with a mechanical.

I'd turned up bright and early-(ish) to offer my services, but it was made abundantly clear to me that they were not required so I hit the embankment and watched the action instead. Pity, I reckon a quick run down the road to M&P (open Sundays) for a cheapo screen - http://www.mandp.co.uk/productInfo.aspx?catRef=305339 - and a bit of creative hackery (I have a MiG welder if it's steel and I know a guy locally who uses TiG to weld exotic materials) on the quickshifter rod (and who needs a quickshifter anyway?), half a tube of chemical metal for the genny cover (or another flex of the credit card - http://www.mandp.co.uk/productInfo.aspx?catRef=573074) and a roll of gaffer tape for the plastics and he'd have been signed off by the scrutes and back out in race 2. Clocks (and lap timers) are for gurls. And judging by Karl Harris on Monday, little fingers are redundant as well

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One observation: ThundersportGB may be excellent racing, but by god the racers in all classes are a bunch of miserable self-absorbed feckers. Where I was, up on the embankment down at Brooklands, the marshals at the post down there were cheerfully and enthusiastically waving at every class on their slowing down lap after the flag, and did I see a single racer acknowledge them with so much as a raised hand?

Did I fuck! Not a single one, not in any class, not even the Superteens, who are clearly not being schooled in the fact that it is only because of the orange overalled volunteers standing out in the Welsh rain all weekend that they get to race at all...