Abingdon Works Centre Pre-Silverstone Dinner - Thursday 12th June 2008

The stalwart Moylan leaps into action on his trusted steed. With 1500 ponies ripping the radials around the black tops of Abingdon, the red blur of our crusaders coupé heads off to save the world. Mutterings of "Got to contact the speaker!", "A venue, a venue, a place for a venue!" and "I'll need a pint after all this!" could be heard over the throaty roar of Dobbin and all his friends under the bonnet. With all the excitement, anticipation planning and preparation of the grand weekend that was rapidly approaching, a classic and most important event that brings together our friends from near and far around the globe in the 'marque of friendship', was sadly overlooked by so many in the hectic pace.

The AWC Pre-Silverstone Dinner planned to be held in Abingdon's Guildhall with a top engineer involved in the lifting of the Mary Rose, invited as the after-dinner speaker, had to be hastily rearranged due to dwindling numbers of proposed attendees coupled with the growing unviable costs to the caterers. Our maestro of the Museum, the Aneka Rice of Abingdon had two days to rectify this problem.

Frustration set in. But instead of nearly pulling out the last two hairs, our heroic 'octogenarian in waiting', achieved a last minute rabbit from the hat and an evening of merriment was arranged fit for the famous marque, although the words of "I still can’t contact the speaker" and "I could do with a pint" could be still heard floating across Old Father Thames late into the night.

Thursday 12 June and after leaving their owls at home, a happy throng of partygoers approached platform 9¾ of St Helens car park and were transported to the internationally famous restaurant of "Limoncella". As is normal, all individuals were most enthusiastically received by the ever effervescent, nuclear powered (or is that Malibu powered) Gill Martin, who promptly conjured out of her magic Tesco bag a pre-dinner quiz. Working in pairs, many with wandering eyes, numerous of those elusive answers that become so obvious once you hear them, were hastily penned to the answer sheets. In amongst the noise of smoking pen nibs, conversation turned to the reason we were all gathered. The annoyance of the monies lost in cancelling the original venue was soon forgotten about with the arrival of some superb food. Natters over the feast included the slight disappointment of not having a speaker. On hearing mention of the speaker, a low audible moan was heard from the vicinity of the organiser. Had it just dawned on him that he had overlooked an important phone call.

With plates empty, the definitive answers to the quiz were given. Prizes proferred to the glorious winners and more wine ordered (and more Malibu). With glasses now dryer than before we started, and all pens collected to be returned to the stationery cupboard, a disruption to the peace of Abingdon ensued with whistles and raised voices. Well turned thighs were exposed to passing motorists... the women were even worse! The well oiled, jovial mob departed back towards platform 9¾.

No problems were encountered with this disturbance as there were no Police Officers to curtail the rowdiness. They were apparently pre-occupied with an irate gent banging on the locked door of the Guildhall convinced that he was supposed to talk to somebody about the raising of certain sunken treasure from The Solent.

Text: Pete Davies
Photos: Mike Lamb