The weekend started in Newport on the Saturday, where we found ourselves nice and early for scrutineering. This passed without indicent, apart from a minor issue with a bush on the power steering rack. A rubber bush between the power steering ram and the rack had worn and become loose, resulting in a bit of a clonk when you wound on the steering wheel. Not a failure, and sorted out on the night in 10 minutes, but curiously the scrutineer saw fit to deface my log book with the fact... oh well, whatever.

Coming out of scrutineering, however, was a much keener observation by team member Trev, who spotted that someone (who shall remain nameless; no it's wasn't me!) had accidentally holed the radiator with a screwdriver and we had a rather empty cooling system. 4.30pm on a Saturday in Newport and we need to find a radiator for a Peugeot 205 pretty sharpish or the fun and games are all over. Thankfully a local spares supplier came up trumps and we managed to source one, then return to Chepstow for the evening.

We were staying with an old friend, Mr.Brown, who lived just outside Chepstow and literally 10 minutes from the venue. Now most of you won't know him, naturally, but suffice to say God invented hangovers especially for the man. So it wasn't much surprise that we had planned a Saturday night visit into Chepstow to sample some fine drinking establishments... and some shite ones too, maybe. With that in mind, we quickly replaced the rad on the car, fixed the bush, ate some food and headed into town. Several beers later (the exact figure varying depending on who you ask, but I reckon around 6 pints for myself and more for others!) we're on the merry side of 'ows yer father, kebab in hand, watching a hotel go up in smoke in the middle of Chepstow. We walked home, our heads hit the pillow, we passed out.

Alarm bells ring at 6.30am and suffice to say no-one is looking particularly "up for it", except Mr.Brown who is, naturally, unflustered by the gallons of alcohol pumping through his veins. While the rest of us fumble for our clothes, he ambles around making toast and a cup of tea. Finally, we set off for the venue, the only saving grace being that we were there before we'd even had chance to get the cars warmed up.

If you ever ask people advice about Caerwent, they always say the same bloody thing. "Mind the kerbs", they say. "Oh jesus, does no-one have anything better to say about the place?!", you answer. But it's true; the place is riddled with the buggers and they're right annoying. It's all good quality tarmac, with a couple of fast straights, but the bulk of it is short, nadgery straights linked by tight left/right combinations. And did I mention the kerbs?

Almost at the end, and poor old Big Dan wasn't feeling all that well. The combination of several pints of export the night before coupled with the stop/go/left/right combinations of Caerwent meant that his breakfast was making a beeline for daylight. I say that but, thankfully, he hadn't had any breakfast. In fact he hadn't drank so much as a cup of tea all morning so he didn't really bring up much, but the wretching through the intercom was enough to make me cringe!

Later on we would discover we finished the stage 27th overall and 2nd in class, much to my genuine amazement. Into service after stage 1 and I suggested to the service boys they check out the front right wheel and suspension just in case the knock did any damage. Thankfully the robustness of Andy Baker's Grp-A replacement lower arms have proven their worth, and all the suspension and wheels were fine, bar a small chunk out of the tyre. However on further investigation it was discovered that a small chunk had been taken out of the brake disc - not a massive section, maybe just an inch square, but with Alcon discs going for £150 a side there was little chance I had a spare.

Still, the section missing was on the outer edge of the disc and not a structural part either, so the boys cleared the bits out and tidied it up, and we'd carry on with a mental note not to hit any more objects. At this point I wasn't feeling exactly hot myself, having tried (and failed) to make myself sick just to make me feel better! We rolled up to the start of SS2, a repeat of 1, in a less than perfect state. Green light, loud pedal down, off we go - and 50 yds in, Big Dan's off again. This time, however, several pints of water had been consumed in service and these were now making themselves known to one and all. Understandably, Dan switch off navigator mode and I did the stage 'blind'. Without a doubt, it was utterly useless. A blind left into immediate 90 right caught me out, seeing the car spin and stall across the stage. And would it start? Would it bollocks.

Eventually we got going again, but not after Dan had prepared to get out and push us out of the way of incoming cars. So, a few corners further, we had to stop again for Dan to get his belts sorted. We got going again and then to top it all off, six or so corners from the end of stage, I started feeling a bit pukey myself. I managed to keep it in but your concentration fades slightly. We got to the end but the time must have been abysmal - we dropped well down the rankings, to 67th or something like that.

Another service, another break, and time for myself and Dan to relax a little - clear our heads, drink some water, have a little doze. And at the start of stage 3, we were feeling much better (well, I was for definite!). We set off back on pace and everything was going well - we cleared the car in front of us in no time at all. Then, about 3/4 through the stage, a rather ringpiece-tightening moment occurred...

Barrelling down a back section of the stage, at the end of a long straight was a medium right over a gentle crest - at any other part of Caerwent it'd be flat out, but since it was at the end of a long straight it required some brakes to get round... normally. Unfortunately for us, the moment I went for the middle pedal, it went straight to the floor with no effort whatsoever. No, the car didn't slow down one iota. Now you hear people hark on about learning from their mistakes and how important experience is - well, I tell you what, there are times when it really does count for something. Because in the nanoseconds that followed I managed to do everything more or less right, thank god, and averted what would probably have been a minor off but could have been a lot worse.

I burbled a quick "no brakes" in a rather curt tone, by which time Big Dan had already grabbed the Jesus handle and braced for impact. Entering into the bend at what, in my mind atleast, was far too great a rate of knots, I spiritually crossed my fingers, tweaked the steering to the right and tugged on the handbrake, and I performed my first handbrake turn at 70mph. Thankfully it seemed to do the trick - the Pug flicked around the bend rather than understeering straight off into what looked like a seriously rough slope downhill (clear of any objects but I fear it might have flicked the car up or over if we'd dug into it). The back end took a trip onto the loose stuff, but we managed to keep the car generally straight.

The following 300 yds consisted of nothing too tight or risky, so we started to coast while I tried the pedal, but there was absolutely stuff all there - not even a sniff of retardation. Nerves shot to buggery, heart racing and pants in unknown condition, my immediate thought was to stop, so we coasted into a safe side opening and brought the car to a stop on the handbrake. Thinking back, I might have been able to take it gently back to the pits but with no brakes whatsoever, there would have been serious problems if I'd have come to another incident which required us to stop, so I guess we did the right thing.

We were eventually towed off the stage and, obviously, had to retire. Inspection showed no obvious problems and, after a short period, the brakes came back very slightly, but certainly not up to race performance. Later investigation seemed to confirm my suspicions that the fluid had boiled, although what caused this is anyone's guess. The logical answer is that the damaged brake disc had caused an increase in friction between the disc and the pad, building up heat a lot quicker in the caliper, to the point where the fluid just boiled itself up. This would have introduced air into the system (which was later confirmed when a re-bleed of the brakes brought the pedal stiffness back up to previous levels).

And so ended another event - what went from a highly promising start to disaster in no time! We learnt that Caerwent is a very unique single venue - very tight and twisty, suiting nimble cars very well and not putting too much honus on out-and-out power - but the resulting on-off-left-right-shake-it-all-about makes it hard on drivers and co-drivers alike (particularly with a hang-over!!).

The car now awaits a new pair of brake discs which, being Alcon's, isn't going to be cheap - but who said rallying was an economic pasttime?! We've also lost precious points in the HoE championship and now look set to loose 3rd place in our class unless we can make a good go of it at Longcross in December... the pressure is on!