A Bad Dose of the Wind

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The weather forecast was not propitious - high winds and driving rain. However, Gerald had declared that there would be work and so Punch and I turned up ready and willing at 9am. The drive to the track was somewhat fraught - downed trees and flooded fields did not bode well for a satisfying or comfortable day's work at The Abbey.

But when I arrived at the track I thought that someone was winding me up. We've covered archaeology at the track in recent editions of the blog, so when I saw a "Cotswold Archaeology" van in the car park I thought someone (Punch) was playing a little joke.

Closer inspection of the state of the car park changed my view.

With the work on the new stadium scheduled to begin in the summer it has transpired that the site of the Abbey Stadium was apparently over the top of some sort of ancient burial ground.
Given that, if the plans go according to schedule, the stadium will be demolished in 2007 it was decided that now would be an ideal time for the historians to excavate the site to verify whether the rumours of the burial site were true.

And haven't they made a mess. In addition to the vast trench that was dug through the pits' car park, there are four giant trenches running across the centre green.

Sadly, the trenches aren't that deep (a couple could have become very effective drains) whilst the others could have been gainfully employed burying the odd promoter or two.

The site archaeologist was not hopeful of a positive outcome - when the stadium was built it seems that everything on the site was pretty well destroyed.

But we are nevertheless left with a stadium and track that looks as if a bomb has hit it.
But at least the drain pipe that we put in is working. The water in the hole on the centre green proved that to be the case. What a shame, therefore that a bright spark on the greyhound track had cut a drainage hole a mere 2 metres from out drainage hole and thus flooded the track with yet another dose of sand and water. The word "muppet" springs to mind!!

But it was wet and windy, very wet and very windy. We struggled to even walk against the 70mph gusts and took refuge in the staffroom until the weather calmed. Just as Gerald was announcing that we might as well pack up and go there was an enormous bang from somewhere outside. Our initial thoughts were that a roofing panel had blown loose. Closer inspection showed a series of fence panels had been flattened, and then we saw the electronic scoreboard that stands above the pits gate. The wind was so strong that the stanchions were bending and the front panel was bowing out dangerously.

As we stood by the pits entrance part of the advertising boards blew past us at high speed and there was another ominous crack.

As I walked around to take a look at the fencing panels there was another bang and it was then that I saw that the wind was gusting so hard that the fixings for the scoreboards were actually pulling the wall of the pits down - a great crack had appeared and you could see daylight through it.

Had we not acted quickly I am sure that the whole wall would have been ripped off and the scoreboard would have adorned the grey hound track. I wouldn't have liked to have been the person to ring up Terry Russell to tell him that his scoreboard was sinking in quick sand and the pits were falling down!

We managed to pin the supports with the arm of a JCB and then Punch and Gerald scaled the pits' walls and we tied the supports to various immoveable objects - the rest of the pits and an enormous water tank.

By the time we had lashed the scoreboard in place and closed up the hole in the wall we were very wet and very cold. The rain was actually stinging our hands and faces.

The one ray of sunshine was the unexpected arrival of Charlie Gjedde. He popped in on the off chance that someone would be at the track.

We spent sometime working out which pit area would be the best for him and then talking about his preparations for the new season.

I am sure that all Swindon fans will be delighted to know that Charlie's preparations are going to plan and that he is fit and ready to ride.

By mid day we had retreated to the relative calm and warmth of the staffroom. Gerald decides that we must put in some Saturday morning sessions so we are to meet this coming Saturday morning at 8am to carry out some digging and drainage work.

As we leave I wave at the forlorn figure of the archaeologist, soaked from head to foot and covered with mud, and take a quick glimpse to make sure that the scoreboard is still in place.
I have a feeling that it might still be there on Saturday but the weather man on the radio has just announced yet more horrendously powerful gusts and gales this evening.