Recalling Bardsea resident Joe Thornton's escapades at the Manx Grand Prix on last week's page, I was quickly reminded of an incident that happened to me on my first visit to Oulton Park.

Struggling to keep up with the faster competitors, another Furness rider had been spectating at the Old Hall corner. Most race fans will know it's an 80/90mph bend.

He advised me I was peeling in far too early and should leave it for at least another four yards.

I took his advice, resulting in crashing rather spectacularly and breaking my wrist and collarbone.

The circuit doc patched me up and sent me to Chester Royal Infirmary.

Not wanting to be stuck there overnight I decided to head home instead and get treated here.

Passing through Warrington (no M6 in those days) the pain was getting unbearable, so when we spotted a hospital we nipped up the drive.

With my arm in a sling I approached the receptionist who looked like something out of one of the Carry On films.

She looked over her glasses at me, carried on writing and grunted "Yes, what do you want!"

I explained I had suspected fractures and would she look at them?

Without looking up she grunted "Certainly not, now clear off, can`t you see I`m busy!"

I said, "But you're a hospital aren't you?"

Again with out looking up she bellowed "Yes we are ,but if you'd read the sign outside the drive we're a Maternity Hospital, now clear off!"

With that we left and found an accident and emergency faciltiy in Wigan.

Five hours later we were on our way, plastered up with a note for North Lonsdale Hospital.

No sympathy from my dedicated crew, who went to a James Bond movie whilst I was being treated.

It later transpired the chap who'd given me the 'advice' was on a far lighter and slower 125cc machine, whilst I was on a far heavier and faster 350 BSA.

A painful lesson learned.