When the question of going to Ghent (for the 6 Day) arose and after checking with ‘Erindoors’ I was there like a shot! Eurostar booked, tickets arranged and who said you need a hotel.

The basic plan was to catch the 12.55 from St. Pancras to Brussels, transfer on a local train to Ghent, find a bite to eat and then watch the track racing. The plan for the return was somewhat similar, catch the 5.30am from Ghent to Brussels and then the 7.59 from Brussels to St. Pancras. No bed, no sleep and plenty of opportunities for people to get lost, forget who they were and sleep on tables in stations.

So the following persons signed up for the opportunity to sample some Belgian delights and cheer on Bradley Wiggins and Mark Cavendish:

Dave Scott, Graeme Anderson, Alex Peake, Simon Checkley, Ed Checkley, Tim Reed, Laura Bissell, Howard Ashmore, Andy Evans, Doug Street, Francis Gallacher, Marcus Machell, Kevin Scott, Denny Parker, Steve Hayward, Richard Dunn, James Johnson and Tim Chandler.

There were two fallers before the start - Steve Hayward (with some tall tail about decorating) and Denny Parker (with some equally tall tail about Team Management/Mechanic for Team Jamaica/Slipstream at Melbourne, Sidney and Beijing).

The next DNS was Doug Street who “forgot” that you need a passport when travelling overseas. After much debate, texts and general abuse he still didn’t make it.

The remainder of the plucky group immediately went “air side” in search of a bar. However St. Pancras is sufficiently new that rhere was no bar beyond passport control. This put a slight dampener on the proceedings but also witnessed the first (of what would be a regular) request for food. Step forward James Johnson.

Once on the train we congregated in the Buffet car for the entire journey, discussing the relative merits between Kronenburg and Stella.  I don’t think this was concluded at all.

The journey to Brussels was quick and easy and we simply made the connection to Ghent. Once in Ghent we started to look for somewhere to eat. Eventually we found a bar and after some negotiation with the manager (thanks Simon Checkley) 13 steaks were ordered, cooked, eaten and we were on our way to the Velodrome.  Afterwards we discovered we had probably eaten horse.  No harm done.

For those who have only ever seen Gosling on a Friday night, Ghent is nothing like it. It’s a small intimate indoor space with banked seats above the banked track. At less then 170 meters, it is less than half the length of Welwyn. The bends are steep, as are the straights, imagine the opening 10 lapper of the B's if you fancy carnage. 

Our seats (arranged by Alex Peake) were first rate. Just after the finish line and with a great view into the Wiggins/Cavendish booth. Beers were plentiful and the racing full on. A lesson in Ghent etiquette, you need to buy beer tokens from seperate kiosks from the bars. Madisons were beyond comprehension, both speed and skill. Derny races appeared to be rigged. Flying starts were fantastic, especially as the score board was directly above us.  

Food was excellent with James Johnson and Laura Bissell vying for the title of Hotdog and Hamburger eating champions.

We all went our separate ways, with seats vacated, track centre frequented and both food and drink bars found. The good thing about track racing is that you can see it from anywhere. This we did.

After much racing and general merriment, the night was over and it was great to see the Belgian police breaking up a fight and forcibly encouraging people not to run on the track. Personally I think Paul Savage is far scarier!!

2am saw us walking to a local bar. As it turned out the bar was owned by the father of one of the racers, Iljo Keisse, who actually won the event partnered by Robert Bartko. The bar was great and kept us amused until 5 am. Then they threw us out, as they closed the bar. Then the "fun" started. We all left the the bar together for the 10 minute walk to the station. The train was to leave Ghent at 5.30 but Kevin Scott and Richard Dunn never made it (they did eventually return, 85 euros the poorer).

The rest of us all slumped into vacant seats with James snoring before we had left the station. Brussels station was generally grim at 6 am. James slept again in the station concourse while the rest of us tried to find breakfast. The journey home was a little different to the journey out as no-one ventured to the the buffet car, instead a little sleep was the order of the day.

Back at St. Pancras roughly on time and then home by 10. All in all 23 hours away, very little sleep (although we reckon James must have had at least 8 hours), two people lost and apparently Dave acquired some extra clothing (no questions asked)!!

Bring on 2008.