NNW means one thing....Beltinge! but in the ravages of early winter, standing in an arctic blast only brings out the more discerning nutter. So it is that Deryck and Paul head down to the clay cliffs armed with an array of models, coats, and fleeces.
Amazingly there's a few locals out leaning seaward, and gazing up at the sky. The wind is a good 15-20mph and the coastal lift is typically smooth and glassy.
Such is the blow that Mr Simon 'golden balls' Thornton puts in an appearance, dialing in his new 'Ceres' in readiness for next weeks F3F in Wales. Just when we all thought we were getting a good lick-on, the Ceres screams through a series of runs and leaves us feeling like we're all floating around with Gentle Ladies.....oh well.
After a few hours the cold is cutting through, Deryck's feeling so rough he can't even face maidening the bargain ebay purchase of the century. The sun is low in the sky, and car foot heaters beckon us to make the journey home.