Ok so the race has finished and you’ve probably seen more coverage than I have (if you like to watch what’s actually going on, watch the bbc as you see very little here! You come for the atmosphere, not the view!) So I won’t blog about the race.

Instead, I’ll be typically British and start with the weather. The forecast has consistently said it’ll be wet and thundery this weekend. Yet until Mark Webber saw the checkered flag, it’s stayed dry. But like Brits with a BBQ, as soon as people come out to play, the heavens open.

Luckily, being brought up with typical British holidays (ie camping in the rain on the Sussex coast) I’m used to coming prepared with a pacamac. However, as an experienced F1er, I’ve also discovered FanVision; a remote tv the size of an iPhone, which you hire and return either at the track or when back in the uk. It streams the F1 tv coverage (as you see it on bbc) and you can chose your audio stream (language, media, etc). You can also personalise it to your favourite driver, so when his position changes, radio is live, pit crew prepare etc, it tells you. You can also view from any car rather than the general view… Anyway. I had FanVision today, which meant once they’d gone past me on the last lap, I could beat the crowds back to the bar and get a dry seat… Just as the heavens opened.

Now the good thing about this, is that I still look relatively chic in tailored black shorts, Prada shades and a black (dry) waterproof. Whereas, the ladies I now see flooding (no pun intended) towards the bar look more like Alice Cooper in drowned drag. Not a good look and, I’m sure, not what they’d been aiming for. Naturally, I had to smirk, just a little!
So here I am, sitting like lady muck, all dry in the best seat in the bar. The tables around me gradually fill up with couples, friends, and Germans. Nothing wrong with that – again, I had to chuckle as they hadn’t the foresight to put towels on chairs – but then I was invaded. A girl bearing slight resemblance to Sabine Schmitz sat at the next table and started to ‘budge up’. I noticed she was part of a SMALL group, larger than the 2-person table at which she’d sat, so I did the polite thing and offered to move down a table. Whilst this meant I now had to put my wet bag on my lap, this wasn’t a big deal. Until I realised the stealth of Sabine’s approach – she was clearly on a reccy and there were actually 11 of them. Suddenly felt like Jersey in the 1930s; there’s only 1 of me but I’m standing my ground – it’d be easy to offer to move to another table but, on principle, I won’t do that. I will stay here until I finish my beer, and smirk at their absolute obliviousness to the fact I’m slating them in the public domain!

Mit freundlichen Grußen /R 🙂

PS – worth noting here that I’m in no way racist! It’s like Basil Fawlty, just a great subject to be funny, that’s all!