(click here for part one)
Third heat. Third on the grid. Last chance saloon.
I have only Nathan Bellows and a red-clad driver I don't recognise ahead of me. I have no idea who's behind. It doesn't matter. Grip the wheel, watch the lights, wait.
It's a long wait - so long, in fact, than when the lights blink red my foot twitches on the throttle. I slam on the brakes to stop the kart moving - just as the lights go green. Not my finest start... but the kart pulls away well, and I hold position through turn one, already hassling Nathan as he gets a little wide of the double apexes at turn two. I'm half alongside as we approach the slow left-hander at turn three; Nathan isn't expecting me, turns in, bounces off my right front bumper and disappears.
I'm through into second and wondering if my pass was too marginal, if the marshals will decide that I pushed Nathan out of the way... but as I approach the start/finish line, there are no flags or warning boards. A glance behind reveals Nathan still in third. I breathe, and focus forward again.
After two tough, combative heats I'm hoping for a nice boring points-banker to finish. And I get it. The red-clad local pulls slowly away, and I maintain a three-second gap to the chasing pack. The kart livens things up by snapping sideways over anything resembling a bump; it's by far the most difficult I've driven today. It's so twitchy that I make a rare unforced error into turn six, sliding well wide of the apex.
But I keep it pointing in the right direction, and take the flag in second place. It caps off a strong run through the heats: I've gained places from my grid slot in all three qualifying races, which should set me up well for the final.
There's a lull while the numbers are crunched. With three finals split roughly evenly across 41 drivers, I'm expecting to be somewhere around the A/B-final split. When Sian lays out the list on the reception desk, there's a scrum as people crane their necks to read it.
At first, I can't find my name - because I'm looking in the wrong place. I'm 9th overall, at least five places higher than I expected, and pleasantly gobsmacked. A-final it is, then. With the championship still up for grabs, all of the main protagonists for the top three places - Lee Hackett, Sean Brierley, Sam Spinnael, Connor Marsh, Ryan Smith - will be present and correct at the sharp end. Continuing his physics-defying crusade, Anwar will start from pole and has a real shot at embarrassing the lightweights.
"Yeah! C-final is where it's at!" Weddell does a celebratory jig after possibly his worst day ever in the BRKC; he seems to have an enviable ability to put disappointments behind him. I wish I had such a positive outlook.
As the C-finalists roll out of the pits and we crowd the pitwall to watch, I'm excited and nervous and tired, as usual. But there's a touch of end-of-term sadness, too. These are the final races of an amazing season which has taken most of us from one end of the country to the other, and a very large part of me doesn't want it to end.
I'm not sure that Michael would agree with me at this moment. The story of his C-final is the story of his day: strong start, blistering pace, places gained hand over fist... BANG! Hit from behind and spun to the back. Square one. He ends up a resigned - and wholly unrepresentative - 33rd overall.
Back in the pitlane, there's a bit of gesticulating between Jamie Harrison and Daryl Warren, which blows over very quickly and ends with a handshake... possibly expedited by the formidable presence of Mr Harrison (Senior).
The B-final grid contains some quick names. Endean, Mays, Fitchew, Vangeen, Sam Joseph, David 'Brickwall' Whitehouse... BRKC debutant Ashley Higham has had a solid run through the heats, too. It's often the most exciting of the finals and doesn't disappoint; today, in a minor change to the format, the top two will progress to the A-final. It's fun to watch heavyweight rivals Alex, James and David duking it out - with David the winner of that particular battle. I'm a little hazy on the frontrunners, but seem to remember Chris Brookshaw and Lee Henderson taking the honours and the last two grid slots for the A-final.
And then, suddenly, it's my turn. It's the final race of the 2013 championship, and I'm proud to be taking part. In my second A-final of the season, I can't quite match the devil-may-care attitude of the first one. The benchmark has changed; I'll be disappointed not to make the top ten.
Aiming to disappoint me will be the likes of Rhianna Purcocks, Ben Allward, Ed White, Chris Brookshaw... as I take my grid slot, I daren't look back. I concentrate on the unfamiliar suit of Alex Ready in seventh; he splits Ryan and Dan Truman. Anwar, on pole, is only twenty metres up the road. Anything's possible...
Green light. I rocket off the line and claw back at least two metres on the three in front; Dan jinks smartly right to cut me off on the dash down to turn 1. We run line astern through turns two and three; Dan's a little slow out of three and I get my nose alongside, but run out of room and settle for harrying him all the way through the flat-out left and right. He's early on the brakes into six and catches me unawares; I rap his rear bumper and earn myself an irritable hand-flick. I'd have waved in apology if he could see me, and if I wasn't hanging on for dear life.
Across the start/finish line for the second time, Dan moves to the inside again; I try the Wall of Death but run out of room; suddenly Ed White is almost alongside and I'm forced to defend hard into turn three.
Again we concertina into six; I go right on the exit, trying to scoot down the inside into turn seven, but Dan anticipates. I lift - and this time Ed makes it stick, barrelling past to my left. I take the wide line into turn 7, aiming for a quicker exit - and very nearly lose another place to a red-helmeted driver. I made exactly the same mistake at Raceland last month. If my feet weren't separated by the steering column I'd be kicking myself.
It's all a bit too lairy; I tell myself to calm down and regroup. My pace is good, and there are plenty of laps left.
Over the next lap I close back up to Ed and pass him in a straightforward move into turn one. He comes right back at me, getting his nose alongside as we approach the flat-out left-hander at turn four... but I scrape through in front. While I've been tussling, Dan has opened up a two second gap; I focus on reeling him in.
As we exit the final turn to start lap 5, I notice that it's Ryan, not Alex Ready, in front of Dan; he looks to be struggling a little. After ducking left and right for a couple of corners, Dan squeezes through; I try to follow but am not quite close enough. Ryan slams the door, and it's like the Matchams A-final all over again.
I'm fractionally quicker over the whole lap, but Ryan is a model of precision as usual: there are no mistakes, no chinks to dive into. I'm carrying a small weight penalty - 5kg or so - which, lack of talent notwithstanding, is probably just enough to prevent me getting alongside down the start/finish straight.
I get close though. Oh, so tantalisingly close... time and time again, Ryan takes the inside line and forces me to go the long way round, but three laps from home he's a little tardy shutting the door and I get half the kart alongside. We turn in as one, two inches apart, my right wheels up on the kerb... I have the line, but his momentum is better; I can't make it stick. It's great racing, great driving, and I'm sad to see the chequered flag.
I take it a metre behind Ryan with a mix of emotions. I've driven well, held onto my starting position... but I so nearly had him.
Needless to say I haven't had much chance to follow progress at the front; back in the pitlane I learn that the laws of physics eventually caught up with Anwar, who finished a still-superb fourth - annihilating the heavyweight field in the process. The ever-impressive Ed White finished a couple of places behind me to take the second heavyweight spot; they're joined on the podium by local expert Lee Henderson.
The overall race podium mirrors the championship top three. Which makes Lee Hackett the double BRKC champion, with Sean Brierley and Sam Spinnael the runners-up. Brilliant drivers, all - they thoroughly deserve their accolades and the prizes that come with them.
My ninth place moves me up to a finishing score of 69 points and 13th in the championship. It's easily the best of my three seasons in the BRKC. I worked hard to raise my game in 2013, and am delighted to see my efforts bearing fruit.
With the champagne showers over, it's usually time to say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. But Brad has an announcement that throws new significance on today's event.
In 2014, the BRKC is to change from a six round, multiple-venue championship to a single, weekend-long, tournament-style event modelled on the Kart World Championships. Much as we love the current format, it rests on the shoulders of Brad alone and is unsustainable without a major injection of cash or manpower or both.
The 2014 venue is to be a new state-of-the-art indoor circuit currently under construction in Milton Keynes. I'll be there of course, along with the usual suspects, but I will shed a tear or two for the current format which took me to places I never dreamed I'd be.
The racing has been sensational. But just as special to me are the friends I've made, and the huge support for my post-race scribblings. They'll continue of course: the big race at Teesside is only ten weeks away, and the BRKC will reconvene for the 0-plate at Whilton Mill in October. Graduating from heavy, wheezy four-stroke karts to the scalpel-like Club 100 two-stroke machines will be a baptism of fire for some of us. Can't wait... I think.
Before that, there are exciting times for several of the regulars: Sean Brierley, Anwar Beroual-Smith and Michael Weddell leave shortly for California to compete at the Sport Kart Grand Nationals. I've no doubt they'll wipe the floor with the Yanks.
And the countdown to the Kart World Championships is well and truly on. Both champions will be there along with Team GB stalwarts Bradley Philpot, James Auld and Jonny Elliott. Denmark won't know what hit it...
For BRKC mark 1, that's all she wrote. I'm doubly chuffed to have competed in the last A-final of the current era.
Roll on mark 2!
Monday 17 June 2013
Thursday 13 June 2013
BRKC round 6. Ellough Park Raceway, 9 June 2013 (part 1)
"I think," says Bradley, "that we have a clear winner for 'prettiest race director of the year'."
It's a backhanded compliment given the standard of competition (Brad has Matchams owner George Lovell as runner up), but Ellough Park's club secretary Sian De Waal makes quite a first impression. At the sign-in desk in reception, drivers are either mumbling shyly at their race boots, or cracking even more puerile jokes than usual.
I slurp a much-needed cup of tea and watch the usual suspects drift in. It's 10.30am and morning practice is drawing to a close. Out on track, familiar helmets are tearing around. The Scots are here in force: red, white and blue for Ryan Smith, blue and white for Michael Weddell, yellow, red and green for Ben Allward. They're jinking and swerving between a group of ten-year olds in cadet karts. The closing speeds are huge. If the little'uns aren't afraid, they should be.
Round 6 has got off to a slow start in chilly, blustery Suffolk, but those of us new to the Ellough Park way of doing things are getting into the swing. It's unusual for us to be testing with non-BRKC drivers on track, and the rolling arrive and drive format is a little de-constructed, too. But it works. The marshals are friendly and efficient, the karts quick and - on initial impression - fairly consistent across the fleet.
The circuit is old-school. Fast, bumpy, concrete run-off areas, variable grip, a fascinating mix of corners. It feels lived-in: a little frayed at the edges, but brimming with character. And it's no pushover. Every lap demands pinpoint precision and delicate feel. There are places where a minor slip will send you facefirst into a plastic bollard filled with bricks and cement.
In other words, it's bloody brilliant.
After 45 minutes of practice – nearly 50 laps – the idiosyncrasies of circuit and karts are beginning to mesh, to form a cohesive whole which forms the basis of fast, consistent lappery. I’m a few tenths away from the ultimate pace as usual, but the tingle is there; the four hour drive from Winchester is starting to feel worth it.
I’m not sure Marianne agrees, especially as both Becca and the new Mrs Vangeen are absent. But she knows plenty of the regulars and is amusing herself taking pictures from Ellough’s excellent vantage points. I’m delighted that she’s here.
At a little after 11am, Sian summons us for a driver's briefing in the paddock. It’s not quite the usual routine: we’re not used to being talked through the circuit corner by corner, for instance. There’s a bit of sniggering at the very notion that BRKC drivers need coaching. Grow up, boys and girls. There’s always something to learn.
We’re distracted by the late arrival of Russell Endean – to general applause – and by the sight of a small plane which barely clears the circuit floodlights on its final approach to the airfield half a mile away. The area is a skydiving dropzone: during the day we become accustomed to the sight of multiple canopies dotting the sky. Along with the skydive aircraft: a larger plane which seems destined for a fiery end in the car park every time it roars overhead. We gather from Sian that its pilot aims to beat his passengers back to terra firma every time.
Just like at Raceland last month, the grids are bigger than usual here: with 41 drivers signed in and 14 in each race, we’ll have just eight heats and three finals. And just like at Raceland, two of my heats are consecutive. I’m in two, seven and eight.
We each have five minutes of free practice, which proves useful: I find a better line through the tricky, off-camber left hander at turn 3, and test – with mixed results – a couple of overtaking points.
As the heat one drivers roll out onto the wide start-finish straight with its overhead gantry and white-painted grid markings, I’m already tuning out, focusing inward. I’m 15th in the championship and determined to hang onto my position at the very least. As a result I miss most of the first heat, but am dimly aware of carnage in the first two corners and some fist waving. I’m more concerned about the spots of rain which are starting to speckle my visor.
Ten minutes later, as I take my eighth grid slot, it’s still spitting, and it’s going to be a Magical Mystery Tour into Turn 1. I tell myself not to worry about it, and concentrate on making up places regardless. I was far too courteous last time out, and got shunted left, right and centre for my troubles.
This time, there will be no prisoners.
Green light; I’m away quickly, sidling up to Alex Vangeen's rear bumper and following him through turn 1 - both of us taking a wide line to avoid the anticipated bottleneck at the apex. There's a bit of pushing and shoving, but as we approach the end of lap one we're all more or less where we started: Lee Henderson and Rhianna up front, followed by Anwar's dad Ferhat, Ben Allward and Chris Brookshaw, and a gaggle of four: Alex, Ian Sandison, myself, and Connor Marsh.
As we turn into the right-hand hairpin before the pits, Ian is up on the kerbs, looping into a spin; Alex and I avoid him but Connor is delayed, and passed by Jonathan Carty. I'm better out of the final corner, alongside Alex on the approach to turn 1. Up ahead, the frontrunners concertina at the apex; focused on holding my line and not sliding into Alex, I’m light on the brakes and give the kart in front a hefty clout.
Luckily I hit him square on: he shoots forwards instead of sideways, but I'm slowed - Jonathan scoots past on the inside, and I sense someone else close behind. We’re three abreast into turn 2 with me in the middle. I shut the door on the kart to my right, already correcting for the inevitable rap at my right-rear corner, and hold my position through the double-apex right-hander. Alex is still on my left; I edge him out onto the wide flat kerb; he’s forced to back off or hit the wall.
But I'm baulked by traffic ahead into turn three, and Alex is still there with the inside line as we barrel into the flat-out turn four. I give him space, hang on for dear life around the outside, ride the bumpy kerb at turn five and somehow get it all slowed down for turn six without hitting anything (much).
Like I said. No prisoners. In the pitlane, Brad and Marianne are watching proceedings with raised eyebrows. “Andrew’s getting stuck in, isn’t he…?”
Around this time, Anwar breezes past me as if I'm driving a pedal kart, and summarily dispatches his Dad into the hairpin at turn seven. I follow him through and, over the next lap, catch Jonathan Carty. After a couple of attempts I pass him into the final corner with most of the kart over the inside kerb.
By lap four of eight I’ve pulled a small gap to the chasing pack, and am tracking Chris Brookshaw and Rhianna Purcocks, embroiled in spirited battle for fourth place. I’m fractionally quicker over a lap, but can’t get my nose ahead where it counts; as the laps count down I’m hoping they’ll collect each other and exit stage left. But despite some very close calls, they both keep it on the road. I finish right behind Chris in sixth place, two up from my grid position. It’s a solid start.
Anwar has won from dead last on the grid, overtaking Lee Henderson for the lead on the very last corner. But the Powers That Be have declared the move illegal, and demoted him to second place.
With at least forty minutes in hand before my double-header of heats, I catch up with my wife, ingest caffeine and sugar, and watch the action from the raised platform above turn seven. This offers a panoramic view of the whole circuit; we're joined by Ed White's dad Geoff, and Brad, who has paid a visit to the ice cream van. He's eating a weird concoction called a Witches Hat - essentially an ice lolly rammed into a Mr Whippy. I've never heard of such a thing, and apparently haven't lived.
On this championship-deciding day, so far, there are no upsets at the top of the leaderboard. Lee Hackett cruises around in his customary devastating way; Sean and Sam Spinnael are right there as well, and Anwar is defying the laws of physics. Business as usual.
Poor Michael Weddell, however, is having the Race from Hell. Somehow I manage to miss all of his incidents, but every time I turn around he's facing the wrong way or embedded in the wall. Ryan - having a solid day himself - assures me that it's not Michael's doing. He's been bundled off the road in two of his three heats.
Anwar dominates the heavyweights, but Lee Henderson is doing well at his home circuit, ahead of James Fitchew and double champion Russell Endean - who might be suffering from his shortage of practice time.
Marianne and I chat to newlyweds James and Heather about the merits of Lanzarote, from where they're recently returned. Hot and sandy is the general consensus - with a charmingly Mediterranean disregard for health and safety. Karting in flip-flops? No problem. You want a helmet? Really? Okay, but real men don't wear them...
Tick tock. With heat six already underway it's time to flush my brain of all but the essentials. I've got better at this over the last couple of years, having initially struggled to cope with the mental peaks and troughs of a sprint event.
I'm thirteenth on the grid for heat seven, with only Alex and Chris Brookshaw behind; up ahead I've got a motley crew to content with: Smith, Beroual-Smith, Whitehouse, Carty, Warren, Curtis, Eccles... I can't wait.
My start isn't quite as lightning-fast this time, but I hold my position through the first two turns and focus on the group in front: Daryl Warren, Jonathan Carty, and a driver in red whose name escapes me.
After a clean first lap, they all tangle at the exit of turn one on lap 2; I pick my way through the fallout, gain three places, and set about closing down the pack, which has opened a small gap. I'm briefly held up by Liam Brierley, but pass him into the final turn and take another place along the start/finish straight. Three laps in, I'm up to eighth place. So far, so good.
Then, unfortunately, I come up against a brick wall, known to most of us as David Whitehouse. I get alongside out of turn three, take the inside line for the flat-out left hander that follows, and expect that to be that. But I'm forced over the kerb, getting a little out of shape, and David's there to take advantage as I lock up in the bumpy, downhill braking area for turn 6. He passes me into the penultimate corner and holds me at bay for another lap. I'm faster, but can't find a way by.
Next time through I'm quicker out of the final corner, but David jinks to the right and forces me into a Wall of Death around the outside at turn one. I'm past, but again he's cleverly kept himself in contention by forcing me to compromise my line.
His next move is less clever: as we turn into the first of the double apexes, he makes hard contact with my right rear corner, pushing me wide enough that Rhys Eccles squeezes through as well. Irritated, I chase hard, but succeed only in sideswiping Rhys at the exit of turn six, earning a colourful hand gesture for my efforts.
As we're shown the last lap board, I'm trying everything I can but getting nowhere. And to make matters worse, our squabbling has allowed Jonathan Carty to close right up; he clobbers me unceremoniously out of the way at the apex of turn six, half a lap from the flag. Now it's my turn for fist waving.
Needless to say I'm not happy; as we cruise around to the pits I'm simultaneously shaking my head and telling myself to move on. I need my mind clear for my crucial final heat. In the pits, Marianne is sympathetic but philosophical: the leaderboard shows me tenth, better than I realised. But I ran as high as seventh, and that rankles like an itch you can't reach.
In moments Sian is in the pitlane with her clipboard, calling our driver numbers, and everything else falls away as I walk out to my kart. This will be the last heat of BRKC 2013.
Best make it a good one.
(click here for part two)
It's a backhanded compliment given the standard of competition (Brad has Matchams owner George Lovell as runner up), but Ellough Park's club secretary Sian De Waal makes quite a first impression. At the sign-in desk in reception, drivers are either mumbling shyly at their race boots, or cracking even more puerile jokes than usual.
I slurp a much-needed cup of tea and watch the usual suspects drift in. It's 10.30am and morning practice is drawing to a close. Out on track, familiar helmets are tearing around. The Scots are here in force: red, white and blue for Ryan Smith, blue and white for Michael Weddell, yellow, red and green for Ben Allward. They're jinking and swerving between a group of ten-year olds in cadet karts. The closing speeds are huge. If the little'uns aren't afraid, they should be.
Round 6 has got off to a slow start in chilly, blustery Suffolk, but those of us new to the Ellough Park way of doing things are getting into the swing. It's unusual for us to be testing with non-BRKC drivers on track, and the rolling arrive and drive format is a little de-constructed, too. But it works. The marshals are friendly and efficient, the karts quick and - on initial impression - fairly consistent across the fleet.
The circuit is old-school. Fast, bumpy, concrete run-off areas, variable grip, a fascinating mix of corners. It feels lived-in: a little frayed at the edges, but brimming with character. And it's no pushover. Every lap demands pinpoint precision and delicate feel. There are places where a minor slip will send you facefirst into a plastic bollard filled with bricks and cement.
In other words, it's bloody brilliant.
After 45 minutes of practice – nearly 50 laps – the idiosyncrasies of circuit and karts are beginning to mesh, to form a cohesive whole which forms the basis of fast, consistent lappery. I’m a few tenths away from the ultimate pace as usual, but the tingle is there; the four hour drive from Winchester is starting to feel worth it.
I’m not sure Marianne agrees, especially as both Becca and the new Mrs Vangeen are absent. But she knows plenty of the regulars and is amusing herself taking pictures from Ellough’s excellent vantage points. I’m delighted that she’s here.
At a little after 11am, Sian summons us for a driver's briefing in the paddock. It’s not quite the usual routine: we’re not used to being talked through the circuit corner by corner, for instance. There’s a bit of sniggering at the very notion that BRKC drivers need coaching. Grow up, boys and girls. There’s always something to learn.
We’re distracted by the late arrival of Russell Endean – to general applause – and by the sight of a small plane which barely clears the circuit floodlights on its final approach to the airfield half a mile away. The area is a skydiving dropzone: during the day we become accustomed to the sight of multiple canopies dotting the sky. Along with the skydive aircraft: a larger plane which seems destined for a fiery end in the car park every time it roars overhead. We gather from Sian that its pilot aims to beat his passengers back to terra firma every time.
Just like at Raceland last month, the grids are bigger than usual here: with 41 drivers signed in and 14 in each race, we’ll have just eight heats and three finals. And just like at Raceland, two of my heats are consecutive. I’m in two, seven and eight.
We each have five minutes of free practice, which proves useful: I find a better line through the tricky, off-camber left hander at turn 3, and test – with mixed results – a couple of overtaking points.
As the heat one drivers roll out onto the wide start-finish straight with its overhead gantry and white-painted grid markings, I’m already tuning out, focusing inward. I’m 15th in the championship and determined to hang onto my position at the very least. As a result I miss most of the first heat, but am dimly aware of carnage in the first two corners and some fist waving. I’m more concerned about the spots of rain which are starting to speckle my visor.
Ten minutes later, as I take my eighth grid slot, it’s still spitting, and it’s going to be a Magical Mystery Tour into Turn 1. I tell myself not to worry about it, and concentrate on making up places regardless. I was far too courteous last time out, and got shunted left, right and centre for my troubles.
This time, there will be no prisoners.
Green light; I’m away quickly, sidling up to Alex Vangeen's rear bumper and following him through turn 1 - both of us taking a wide line to avoid the anticipated bottleneck at the apex. There's a bit of pushing and shoving, but as we approach the end of lap one we're all more or less where we started: Lee Henderson and Rhianna up front, followed by Anwar's dad Ferhat, Ben Allward and Chris Brookshaw, and a gaggle of four: Alex, Ian Sandison, myself, and Connor Marsh.
As we turn into the right-hand hairpin before the pits, Ian is up on the kerbs, looping into a spin; Alex and I avoid him but Connor is delayed, and passed by Jonathan Carty. I'm better out of the final corner, alongside Alex on the approach to turn 1. Up ahead, the frontrunners concertina at the apex; focused on holding my line and not sliding into Alex, I’m light on the brakes and give the kart in front a hefty clout.
Luckily I hit him square on: he shoots forwards instead of sideways, but I'm slowed - Jonathan scoots past on the inside, and I sense someone else close behind. We’re three abreast into turn 2 with me in the middle. I shut the door on the kart to my right, already correcting for the inevitable rap at my right-rear corner, and hold my position through the double-apex right-hander. Alex is still on my left; I edge him out onto the wide flat kerb; he’s forced to back off or hit the wall.
But I'm baulked by traffic ahead into turn three, and Alex is still there with the inside line as we barrel into the flat-out turn four. I give him space, hang on for dear life around the outside, ride the bumpy kerb at turn five and somehow get it all slowed down for turn six without hitting anything (much).
Like I said. No prisoners. In the pitlane, Brad and Marianne are watching proceedings with raised eyebrows. “Andrew’s getting stuck in, isn’t he…?”
Around this time, Anwar breezes past me as if I'm driving a pedal kart, and summarily dispatches his Dad into the hairpin at turn seven. I follow him through and, over the next lap, catch Jonathan Carty. After a couple of attempts I pass him into the final corner with most of the kart over the inside kerb.
By lap four of eight I’ve pulled a small gap to the chasing pack, and am tracking Chris Brookshaw and Rhianna Purcocks, embroiled in spirited battle for fourth place. I’m fractionally quicker over a lap, but can’t get my nose ahead where it counts; as the laps count down I’m hoping they’ll collect each other and exit stage left. But despite some very close calls, they both keep it on the road. I finish right behind Chris in sixth place, two up from my grid position. It’s a solid start.
Anwar has won from dead last on the grid, overtaking Lee Henderson for the lead on the very last corner. But the Powers That Be have declared the move illegal, and demoted him to second place.
With at least forty minutes in hand before my double-header of heats, I catch up with my wife, ingest caffeine and sugar, and watch the action from the raised platform above turn seven. This offers a panoramic view of the whole circuit; we're joined by Ed White's dad Geoff, and Brad, who has paid a visit to the ice cream van. He's eating a weird concoction called a Witches Hat - essentially an ice lolly rammed into a Mr Whippy. I've never heard of such a thing, and apparently haven't lived.
On this championship-deciding day, so far, there are no upsets at the top of the leaderboard. Lee Hackett cruises around in his customary devastating way; Sean and Sam Spinnael are right there as well, and Anwar is defying the laws of physics. Business as usual.
Poor Michael Weddell, however, is having the Race from Hell. Somehow I manage to miss all of his incidents, but every time I turn around he's facing the wrong way or embedded in the wall. Ryan - having a solid day himself - assures me that it's not Michael's doing. He's been bundled off the road in two of his three heats.
Anwar dominates the heavyweights, but Lee Henderson is doing well at his home circuit, ahead of James Fitchew and double champion Russell Endean - who might be suffering from his shortage of practice time.
Marianne and I chat to newlyweds James and Heather about the merits of Lanzarote, from where they're recently returned. Hot and sandy is the general consensus - with a charmingly Mediterranean disregard for health and safety. Karting in flip-flops? No problem. You want a helmet? Really? Okay, but real men don't wear them...
Tick tock. With heat six already underway it's time to flush my brain of all but the essentials. I've got better at this over the last couple of years, having initially struggled to cope with the mental peaks and troughs of a sprint event.
I'm thirteenth on the grid for heat seven, with only Alex and Chris Brookshaw behind; up ahead I've got a motley crew to content with: Smith, Beroual-Smith, Whitehouse, Carty, Warren, Curtis, Eccles... I can't wait.
My start isn't quite as lightning-fast this time, but I hold my position through the first two turns and focus on the group in front: Daryl Warren, Jonathan Carty, and a driver in red whose name escapes me.
After a clean first lap, they all tangle at the exit of turn one on lap 2; I pick my way through the fallout, gain three places, and set about closing down the pack, which has opened a small gap. I'm briefly held up by Liam Brierley, but pass him into the final turn and take another place along the start/finish straight. Three laps in, I'm up to eighth place. So far, so good.
Then, unfortunately, I come up against a brick wall, known to most of us as David Whitehouse. I get alongside out of turn three, take the inside line for the flat-out left hander that follows, and expect that to be that. But I'm forced over the kerb, getting a little out of shape, and David's there to take advantage as I lock up in the bumpy, downhill braking area for turn 6. He passes me into the penultimate corner and holds me at bay for another lap. I'm faster, but can't find a way by.
Next time through I'm quicker out of the final corner, but David jinks to the right and forces me into a Wall of Death around the outside at turn one. I'm past, but again he's cleverly kept himself in contention by forcing me to compromise my line.
His next move is less clever: as we turn into the first of the double apexes, he makes hard contact with my right rear corner, pushing me wide enough that Rhys Eccles squeezes through as well. Irritated, I chase hard, but succeed only in sideswiping Rhys at the exit of turn six, earning a colourful hand gesture for my efforts.
As we're shown the last lap board, I'm trying everything I can but getting nowhere. And to make matters worse, our squabbling has allowed Jonathan Carty to close right up; he clobbers me unceremoniously out of the way at the apex of turn six, half a lap from the flag. Now it's my turn for fist waving.
Needless to say I'm not happy; as we cruise around to the pits I'm simultaneously shaking my head and telling myself to move on. I need my mind clear for my crucial final heat. In the pits, Marianne is sympathetic but philosophical: the leaderboard shows me tenth, better than I realised. But I ran as high as seventh, and that rankles like an itch you can't reach.
In moments Sian is in the pitlane with her clipboard, calling our driver numbers, and everything else falls away as I walk out to my kart. This will be the last heat of BRKC 2013.
Best make it a good one.
(click here for part two)
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