BRKC 2015, day two. Milton Keynes, 18 January

The alarm is set for 8am. I wake with a jolt at 7.59 and stare at my watch as the numerals tick past the hour. My final heat isn't until 2pm; I could lie here, savouring the sensations of warm and clean, until midday. But it's no good. I have to know what's going on at the circuit.

As I get ready I open the live timing stream in time to catch the end of the first heat of day two - Round 3, heat 5. And am instantly distracted by the sight of Lee Jones' name in second place. At last, I think, a decent result for poor Lee... but it's an illusion. He's the last driver to pit; his name sinks down the list to 7th.

No snow in the circuit car park this morning, and only a scattering of cars: most people are sensibly staying somewhere warm and following the action online. The temperature outside is just above freezing; inside the race hall it's barely any higher. I stow my gear and watch the action from the main spectator area above the pitlane. The combination of relentless noise and the snaking chain of karts is vaguely hypnotic; it takes me a minute or two to dial in.

Ed White is streaking away from a field that includes Russell Endean, Anwar Beroual Smith, Remi Drzazga and the distinctive pink helmet of Piers Prior. Two names that I've yet to put faces to - David Longman and Ben Churchill - are also showing serious pace and mixing it with the heavy hitters. Anthony Mays watches in dismay as son Tyler struggles around near the back having made a mistake in qualifying. His weekend is, needless to say, not going to plan.

With hands freezing and stomach grumbling I head down to the hospitality tent, where half of the Formula Fast reception/catering team are doing a roaring trade in coffee and bacon butties. Russell appears, having just finished third behind Ed and Remi. He tempers my appetite slightly by using a napkin to mop brown sauce off his bacon. Apparently only barbecue sauce - newly acquired at his request among others - will do.

Joined by Daniel Truman's father Ray, we stand by the open shutter and watch the final heat of round 3. Ruben leads it comfortably ahead of the very impressive Gary Jones, with the real action in a three kart train behind him - time after time, Brad, Connor Marsh and Annelien sweep past us into the hairpin, Brad having to make his kart very wide indeed.

Annelien seems content to sit at the rear of the train, and we wonder why - until the last corner on the last lap, when she puts a very aggressive move on Connor and beats him to the chequered flag. We can't see much from our angle, but there's some discussion with Race Control about it afterwards. It's deemed legal, but Connor is less than impressed.

Aside from Covkart stalwart Gary, this heat also contains another familiar name which occupies a strong position on the leaderboard. Slawek Piskorsz has notched up some stellar results and - like Gary - looks destined for the semi-finals. His wife Joanna has put in some serious hard time in the race hall this weekend. I'm sure I've seen her at every possible vantage point, camera clicking, immortalising BRKC 2015 in pictures.

With round 3 complete, there's a break in proceedings while the circuit is reconfigured; I head upstairs to catch up with some of the others. As soon as I see Ryan Smith I can tell that his third heat brought him back to earth with a bump after a stunning effort yesterday. But this weekend, a sixth place is nothing to be ashamed of. Lee Jones props up the counter, looking resigned; we swap stories of woe and hope for better things in our final heat, which we share with Ruben, Daniel Truman - having a solid weekend on his return to the BRKC - and Liam Brierley.

I'm just thinking that I haven't yet seen much of the elder Brierley this weekend when he appears, looking chirpy as usual. With a third and two fourth places in his pocket, Sean hovers around the fringes of the top thirty with the likes of Jonny Elliott, Dan Healey and my British 24 Hours team captain Alex Vangeen - also having a fine BRKC 2015.

I've been meaning to doorstep our celebrity guest - motorsport journalist and commentator Will Buxton - all weekend, especially since he posted some very kind words about the day one blog; I find him in front of the leaderboard screens and introduce myself. He's having a whale of a time, improving with every heat, and regales me with a story that plays like every race fan's dream: in 2014 he was invited to go wheel to wheel, in single seaters, with most of the current crop of Euro F3 drivers. I gather from the fact that he lapped within two seconds of the frontrunners that he must be pretty handy in a car.

One of the European contingent introduces himself as Sander de Baets, who finished some way up the road from me in my first heat yesterday and has shown continued good form since. He provides a fascinating insight into karting in northern Europe. Belgium, for instance, has no fewer than 28 indoor circuits - nearly all of them bigger than Formula Fast - but very few outdoor circuits. I'm also surprised to hear that despite their world-class standard, the likes of Mathias Grooten, the Boutens siblings, Sander himself and the others receive virtually no sponsorship.

Which brings us on to the perpetual issue facing race drivers everywhere: that money speaks louder than talent. Sander tells me that well-funded Belgian tintop and single seater drivers regularly turn up at karting events and fail to get within a second of the pace; McLaren protegé Stoffel Vandoorne is also a former indoor karter and occasionally returns to his roots. Sander allows that he's "pretty good" and has kept his credibility within the karting fraternity. After this conversation (and a brief chat along the same lines with Sam Spinnael yesterday) I'm curious. Perhaps an ego-bashing trip across the channel might be in order...

By now the circuit layout has been changed for the final round of heats, and the engines are roaring again. Mathias Grooten becomes the first driver to win all four of his heats, despite stern opposition from Michael O'Brien and Mateusz Bartsch. Controversy rears its head in the following heat: polesitter Kim Enson has a reasonably serene run to the flag, but a little too much barging behind him sees Russell Endean bundled down to mid-pack and clearly not happy. Anwar is shown a bad pass flag for an incident that I miss - but appears to ignore that and a black flag and subsequently loses his second place. He has two laps added and drops to tenth, elevating the others. Michael Weddell is delighted with his third place after qualifying down in sixth.

Alex Vangeen has arrived with wife Lauren, making her first appearance this weekend. Mid-conversation in the main reception area, I'm delighted to spot the distinctive red coat of my wife, whom I wasn't expecting to see today. With Brad's other half Rebecca also on hand, it's a reunion of karting widows. I love having them here; along with the committed band of parents and supporters, they help elevate the BRKC from mere karting championship to major sporting event. It just wouldn't be the same without them.

Suddenly, for me, the clock is ticking again. With an hour and a half until my final race of the weekend - even if I win it, I won't have enough points for a semi-final - it's time for lunch. I take Marianne down to the hospitality awning and wolf a cheese and onion roll; she chooses something a little less pungent. We're pleasantly surprised to run into double BRKC champion - and British 24 Hours teammate - Lee Hackett. Unable to race this weekend because of work commitments on Saturday, he's travelled up from London to watch. Earlier, Sander de Baets asked me which BRKC regulars not racing this weekend would be a threat. I chose Lee and James Fitchew - also here all weekend in support.

Heading into the changing area, I meet BRKC newbie Nick Robinson - whom I first encountered in the reception area of our Premier Inn on Friday night. He's buzzing, having just capped off his weekend with a fine fifth place in his final heat. As I suit up, Sander is on course for his first win of the weekend ahead of Sam Spinnael and Helmut Schmacker (formerly known as Pete Leppan).

There's a half-hour break while the karts are fuelled; for the first time all day, the butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. I have nothing to lose and am determined to go out and enjoy myself. But I don't want to cock it up either.

As I walk out to my kart, the nerves fall away as usual. Seat in, hunker down, shrug off the cold and tiredness... the marshal signals the front driver, and we're rolling. I have Ruben in front of me, so there's little chance of tripping over him on my qualifying lap. I keep it neat and tidy and know immediately that it's far better than my first attempt on this layout... so am doubly dismayed to see my name down in eighth.

No point in fretting, I'll have to make the best of it... as we're waved away by the start marshal I'm fixed on the blue suit of Liam Brierley. After a tidy first lap, Dan Truman is bundled down from second to sixth in the snail; Liam gets caught in the fallout and I squeeze through as we stream out onto the shortened back straight. Ruben is streaking away in the lead, with Lee second. BRKC debutant Nathan Bull - whose Mum I chatted to earlier on - is third, the best position he's been in all weekend. But's he's a little slower than the karts behind, and we swiftly concertina into a snake: Nathan, Will Buxton, Kristian Jennings, Dan Truman and I. As first Dan, then Nathan and Will pit, I stay on Kristian's tail.

It's the second time this weekend that I've chased the orange-suited driver - whom I never did put a face to - and I focus on finding a way by without compromising my laptimes. It's important to jump ahead of Nathan, so I daren't pit yet. Kristian is quick, I'm feeling a little more confident on this layout, and for lap after lap we play high speed chess. It's a lot of fun, but must end sometime; with three minutes to go I peel into the pits for the last time in BRKC 2015. It's a good stop, but it's not quite enough: I exit half alongside Will in sixth place.

Dan has jumped ahead of Lee, who seems to have lost time and suddenly has all of us for company. Will pulls off a great move on Kristian in the dying moments of the race. It's a frenetic end, but Lee holds on to his third place to finish his BRKC campaign on a high. I cross the line sixth, just a second behind him with Will and Kristian between us.

That concludes a very up-and-down weekend for me. I've generally been solid in the races but mediocre - with one exception - in qualifying. I take heart from the fact that I've gained three places in the races, lost none... and my second place behind Mathias was very good. In the final reckoning I'm classed 44th out of 90 - almost as midfield as you can get.

The final three heats rattle by with drivers anxiously watching the timing screens, the cutoff point for the semi-finals seeming to change by the lap. They're won by Greg Laporte (his third), Remi Drzazga (his second) and Ed White (his fourth).

After a short wait, the news begins to trickle through the gridlocked reception area, faces brightening or darkening like LEDs on a lightboard. Connor, Michael Weddell, Slawek, Gary, Crispin and James Martin are in. Alex, Ryan, Jack Bolton, Sean and Anwar are out. Jonny Elliott, 30th with 30 points, is the final qualifier.

Having won the last heat, Ed White is straight into the first semi... and wins it to complete an unprecedented full house of five wins from five pole positions. I've run out of superlatives to describe the scale of his achievement against competition of this calibre. After a fairly straightforward run through the heats he's pushed hard by the amazingly consistent Brian Kroon - comfortably the highest placed driver (and only finalist) not to have won a race.

The second semi-final features a monster drive from the younger Boutens. She combines a canny pitstop strategy with searing pace to win from fourth on the grid - beating both her brother and the previously undefeated Mathias Grooten in the process. But a couple of fourth places in the heats have cost her; she misses the final by a point and ends her campaign in 11th place overall. BRKC founder Brad causes one of the shocks of the weekend after stopping with his left front tyre marginally outside one of the regulation pit boxes. It's a tiny mistake, but it earns him a penalty which consigns him to last in the race - and puts him out of the final.

I'm in the small viewing room beside the VIP area with Ryan, his dad Neil, Jake, a couple of others... and Ed. Jake's practically hopping from foot to foot, waiting to find out if he has made the final, while Ed is fretting over which kart to pick. Unusually for him, he looks nervous. I don't blame him.

In semi-final three we're entertained by a race-long battle between Michael Weddell and Jonny Elliott for what eventually becomes eighth place - narrowly resolved in favour of Michael. Stefan Verhofste wins it ahead of the excellent Connor Marsh and Ian Andersen, but this time it's Lewis Manley who causes the upset. Trying to emulate a couple of brilliant moves by Remi Drzazga (and a slightly questionable one by Mateusz Bartsch) at the hairpin, he spins away his fifth place and his championship. It's a sad end to a superb weekend; he coped far better with the layout change than many expected, and dropped only one point in the heats. In the final standings, Lewis is an unlucky 13th.

And then... everything comes to a grinding halt.

Partway through the third semi-final, we noticed the timing screens freeze; the clock, however, continued to count down, and we assumed it was nothing more than a glitch. But with the semis over and the minutes ticking by (and the frown on Ollie Fox's face deepening) it's clear that the problem is serious. IT expert James Fitchew is drafted in and diagnoses a major hardware failure.

It's after 7pm now, and the fatigue of a third day in this pressure-cooker environment is beginning to bite. As is the cold, which seems to be seeping through the walls of the reception area. People begin to drift away as the finalists wait for their shot at glory.

Becca keeps our spirits up by offering around chocolates - a belated Christmas present - and James completes my weekend by sharing some of the famous Formula Fast pizza with me. Michael Weddell ends up being carried around/beaten up as usual. When offered sight of a picture of Alex dressed in a bunny onesie, I stupidly accept. I wish I could unsee that... but the minutes pass.

I drink hot chocolate, help Lee Jones prop up the counter, swap Daytona 24 Hours stories with longtime BRKCer Alexandru Damian. I finally meet David Longman, whose name I kept seeing in close company with the frontrunners... as is so often the case, it turns out we've encountered each other on track before. He's one of Jonny Elliott's teammates in the ESR team that pushed us so hard in the early stages at Teesside last year.

The sound of a lone kart on track draws us back to the windows. It's Brad - wearing Jake Campbell-Mills' helmet - testing the backup timing system. The frozen chunks of meat that were once my feet report that some sort of relief would be nice... but they're ignored. The final is on.

The last ten qualify one at a time, in the same kart - 21, which started to show a performance advantage late in the day and will not be used in the race. Brian Kroon, Remigiusz Drzazga, Michael O'Brien, Jake Campbell-Mills, Mateusz Bartsch, Stefan Verhofste, Gregory Laporte, Ruben Boutens, Mathias Grooten and Ed White.

It's mighty close, as you'd expect. With no timing screen, James Auld is our only conduit to the results. As Ed - the last to qualify - takes the flag, there's a pregnant pause before the PA system booms and a cheer goes up from the (slightly partisan) crowd. Ed has done it again! His sixth pole from six attempts, shading Ruben by six hundredths of a second.

There's another short wait while the finalists choose their karts - Ed, as top points scorer, gets first dibs - before the engines clatter into life and they roll out of the pits for the final time. I stand on the viewing gantry with James Fitchew; as the karts stop on the back straight I voice what we're both thinking. Behind Ed sit four of the best drivers in the world - Boutens, Grooten, Bartsch and Laporte.

Rolling start, green light, and away they go. Ed pulls a couple of metres' gap straight away but that's as good as it gets. In the first couple of laps the top three are joined by invisible rope, dropping the others as Greg Laporte barges past Bartsch in the Snail; Stefan Verhofste squeezes through as well.

On lap three, our worst fears are realised: Ruben closes up, shadows Ed down the back straight, and dives down the inside into the hairpin - the exact move he used to take the lead from his sister last year. There's a bit of pushing on the exit - Ed having to defend hard from Mathias - but Ruben is firmly in the lead. And, just like last year, he seems to find another gear as Ed is forced into defensive mode.

But just as we're beginning to think Ed might have buckled under the pressure, he digs deep and begins to close down the gap to Ruben. Within two laps all three are nose to tail again, before Ed takes the first of his two pitstops. It looks good as far as we can tell; both of the others pit in response on consecutive laps. Mathias loses perhaps half a second to Ed; Ruben makes a very rare mistake and is held for a moment by the first pit marshal. He exits the pits side-by-side with Ed and holds onto the lead by the skin of his teeth.

But again, Ruben puts the hammer down and, tenth by tenth, begins to pull away as Ed is forced to deal with an increasing threat from Mathias. Matters come to a head when he gets his kart halfway alongside Ed into the hairpin; the thwack of plastic on plastic reverberates around the race hall, along with a collective gasp from the onlookers as Ed slides wide, hand raised in protest... opinions differ but I reckon it's a bad pass and James Fitchew agrees.

Sure enough, the red flag comes out and Mathias lets Ed through. Their battle has allowed Ruben some breathing room; a few laps later, Mathias pits for the second time - presumably in an attempt to find some clear air and jump ahead of Ed. But it backfires; he exits into a gaggle of traffic and loses a place to Greg Laporte.

With no timing, the picture becomes muddied for a few laps, with drivers having pitted once, twice or not at all. But once Ed and Ruben have made their final pitstops, we realise that Stefan Verhofste has snuck in under the radar. Having qualified sixth, he made both his pitstops early on, got himself in clear air, and reeled off a stunning series of fast laps while Ed, Mathias and the others were battling. Into the final minutes, Ruben leads from Stefan, with Ed third ahead of Mathias and Gregory Laporte - no more than a second between any of them.

Suddenly, the chequered flag is raised, James Auld's voice goes up an octave, and Ruben Boutens takes it ahead of Stefan Verhofste, Ed White, Mathias Grooten, Gregory Laporte, Michael O'Brien, Matheusz Bartsch, Brian Kroon, Remigiusz Drzazga and Jake Campbell-Mills. We cheer as loudly as we can, trying to make up for our depleted numbers as Ruben does his victory lap with the chequered flag.

Ed is, naturally, bitterly disappointed to have come so close and not won. But he should be proud of himself and along with several others I do my best to tell him so. He was always going to be up against it in the final. As the top scoring driver through the heats and semis - and therefore the biggest threat - it was likely that some of the others would work together. His performance this weekend is one of the finest I've seen in 17 years of karting, and he's only going to get stronger.

Ruben has been formidable all weekend, and just like last year, seems to have found something extra when it really counted. He's a thoroughly deserving double BRKC champion. As for Stefan - he turned his championship around after a poor third heat to win his semi and followed that with one of the canniest drives of the weekend. Stellar effort.

Mathias Grooten wins the trophy for fastest lap of the weekend. Although I'm a little partisan - Ed is my hero, naturally - I'm pleased. For Mathias, and for me. Because, fleetingly, I ran him pretty close. If I could just manage it more often, I may yet lift myself from the midfield doldrums. Hope springs eternal, etc.

Gary Jones wins the Kam Ho trophy for finishing 28th overall. It's a memorial for Kam, former BRKC racer and pillar of the karting community, who passed away suddenly during a karting event in May 2014. Kam finished 28th in BRKC 2014; this is our way of remembering him. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wishes he was still here with us.

If we had a fat lady, she would now be singing. And not before time. It's 9pm on Sunday night; some of us have been here for most of the last 60 hours. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say it's been a hell of a ride.

To the guys and girls of Formula Fast: I need a bigger word than 'thanks'. The effort that went into BRKC 2015 - both in the buildup and over the weekend itself - is hugely appreciated by each and every one of us. Every aspect, from kart parity to marshalling to catering to facilities, was simply superb. And it DID run like a Swiss train station - until the random hardware failure at the worst possible time. The fact that Ollie, Phil and team are using this as an opportunity to upgrade the timing facilities is typical of the FF attitude. BRKC will return in 2016, and I'm already counting the days.

I very much hope that all our visitors from across the water will make the trip again. It was a pleasure to have you all - I'm sorry I didn't get around to properly meeting everyone - and the standard on track was simply breathtaking.

James Auld = legend. The voice of the BRKC dealt with a huge workload without flagging (with sterling assistance from Lee Hackett among others) and added a priceless sense of occasion. I hope he gets his voice back soon. If not, a career as Batman awaits.

For 2016, organiser Brad promises even bigger and better. The mind boggles. From me - and all BRKCers old and new - thanks for a brilliant BRKC 2015.

Thanks for reading.

Click here to read the BRKC 2015 preview.
Click here to read the report from day one of BRKC 2015.

BRKC 2015, day one. Milton Keynes, 17 January

7.40am. 

Snow is falling from a leaden dawn sky, settling on the bodywork of the hundreds of cars parked outside a huge warehouse in the depths of Bletchley. A touch of winter wonderland on a grimy industrial estate.

But nobody’s there to see it. Inside the warehouse, upwards of two hundred people stand shivering in silence. We're short of sleep and freezing cold, but there's nowhere we'd rather be. These are the final moments before the start of BRKC 2015. 

After months of anticipation, the rules and format are imprinted on our minds; circuit boss Ollie Fox’s driver briefing is mercifully short. As the engines roar into life and James Auld's commentary shakes the walls, we crowd every inch of viewing space, attention constantly torn between the drama on track and the timing screens. 

There’s controversy straight away, as surprise heat 1 polesitter Daniel Healey makes a strategic error under pressure by pitting from the lead – and then loses six seconds when the marshal is very tardy releasing him. He falls to third as the quietly excellent Russell Endean chases Polish ace Mateusz Bartsch through. It’s a great shame for Daniel, who continues to set stunning laptimes, closes up on the leaders, but can’t find a way past. Mateusz wins his first BRKC race from Russell and Daniel, with Connor Marsh a fine fourth.

In search of somewhere warm, I make my way around to the awning which backs on to the rear of the race hall, and find a haven. I join Geoff White – father of frontrunning BRKC regular Ed – and a scattering of others. We warm ourselves by the gas heaters, slurp coffee, and talk about everything from braking points to derelict stately homes.

With the shutters opened, we have a great view of the drivers in the early heats arriving at the hairpin. As usual, the frontrunners are a study in precision and consistency, turning in late and sweeping into the apex with barely a squeal of rubber. I try and memorise their every move.

At 11am, my wife Marianne arrives to watch my first race. It’s great to have her here, and she seems to bring me luck. As I suit up, I try to dampen both nerves and expectations. After six races, it’s clear that the expanded international contingent is a serious force to reckon with. I’ll have 2014 podium finisher and local expert Lewis Manley for company, along with my fearsomely quick British 24 Hours teammate Michael Weddell. And those are just the names I know.

As the visors come down and we roll out for qualifying I’m trying to remember everything I learned in a good day of practice yesterday… but I overdrive in the slippery conditions, and line up a disgruntled seventh. But I was moderately quick yesterday; there will, I hope, be chances in the 35 or so laps to come.

Almost straight away, I’m presented with one on a plate; orange-clad Kristian Jennings tangles with one of the others; as they lose momentum I squeeze through at the exit of the Snail, and gain two places. Fifth. Life is looking up.

Three laps later, I fall asleep at the wheel and leave the door wide open for Kristian, who sweeps through into the Snail apex. I chase hard but slowly lose ground, despite a good pitstop, and finish sixth. Typically middling, but not a disaster.

With five hours in hand before my second heat, I retire to a nearby pub with Marianne and some local friends. Much rejuvenated by Aberdeen Angus, I return in time to watch the early heats on the altered layout. Which looks, if anything, even more technical than the original.

After watching Anwar Beroual-Smith win his second heat of the day, kept honest by Slawek Piskorsz, I’m actually jumping up and down on the viewing gantry as Scottish BRKC regular Ryan Smith puts in one of the drives of his life against former World Champion Mathias Grooten. Earlier on, Mathias showed his class by qualifying third and winning his first heat despite not having seen the circuit before today.

Ryan beats Mathias to pole and does an incredible job to keep him behind for lap after lap. Finally, Mathias does find a way by, but has to fight every inch of the way. He takes the flag by the skin of his teeth; Ryan is denied a fairytale end, but is rightly delighted with his second place.

My turn. Outside the race hall, the sun is setting, a very cold day sinking into a wintry evening; I find myself jogging around in the pitlane in an effort to keep warm. I've drawn the first kart in line for heat 6 in round 2, which means I’ll have nobody in front of me in qualifying. Good news. But there’s a delay while the karts are refuelled; you can almost feel the feeble warmth seeping out of the tyres.

As we roll out for our one and only sighter lap on the new layout, my brain seems to be lagging a corner behind… and disaster strikes in the first twenty metres of my flying lap. I slide wide on the entry to the first hairpin and clout the wall hard; half a second haemorrhages away instantly, and I line up ninth, trying to keep my spirits up.

Green light. I get pushy straight away and mug Lee Henderson into the second hairpin. It’s not pretty, and we make light contact, but I’m through, wondering if I’ll get away with it.

I don’t. A couple of laps later I’m shown the Bad Pass flag – by which time I’m ten kart lengths up the road. I drop back, let Lee past. This is going from bad to worse. What follows is about the most frustrating 25 laps I can remember in a kart. I get quicker and quicker as the circuit comes to me – but Lee defends solidly and I can’t find a way by. Mired in ninth all the way to the flag, I stomp upstairs, nick a space on the couch and sulk at my laptop for an hour.

Amazingly, someone else is having a worse day than I am. BRKC oldtimer Lee Jones is about as rock-solid as they come. But he’s had a nightmare day, languishing in 8th in his first heat and seemingly caught out by the layout of the second. Having qualified 9th, he makes a cardinal error by pitting at the end of the first lap of the race – which nets him a penalty. He finds some pace but trails home last in a heat which also sees local expert and 2014 finalist Crispin Zuercher finish a shock 8th. Sam Spinnael’s 4th place from 8th on the grid must count as one of the saves of the day.

With round two complete, there's a short break while the circuit is reconfigured to its original layout. Half of the drivers and supporters have finished for the day; many have left. After the mayhem this morning, it's nice to have a little peace and quiet as I prepare to do battle for the final time. In order to fit 40 races into two days, the first four heats of round 3 have had to be moved from Sunday morning to Saturday evening. Not ideal for a driver, but I'm in heat 1 - which would otherwise have meant rolling out of the pits at 8am on a Sunday morning. I don't even like rolling out of bed at that hour...

My final heat contains some quick people - Jack Bolton and Chris Brookshaw have both had top-3 finishes today - and it contains Mathias Grooten. Who has two wins from two starts. What the hell, I think as I walk out to my kart. Short of actual bodily harm, my day can hardly get any worse.

Three minutes later I line up in second place, having driven the neatest indoor qualifying lap of my life and given away just two tenths of a second to Mathias. Brad's spectating from the infield. 

"Take him on the first lap!" He shouts. Under the visor, I'm trying not to get too excited. I'm going to have my hands full defending my second place while Mathias drives off into the distance.

But he doesn't. After a false start and a second rolling lap we're away; I'm under pressure from Jack Bolton, but I focus everything on keeping one of the best kart racers in the world honest. The conditions are helping - even colder and even more slippery, which denies Mathias the grip he needs to unleash those staggering sub 33.8 second laps. Over the years I have often been more competitive when grip is low; while Mathias pulls out the odd couple of tenths, I hang on by my fingernails.

My pitstop is a little mistimed, bringing me out side-by-side with Alexandru Damian; I lose a couple of seconds clearing him. But it doesn't matter; I'm still second, well clear of the rest, and take the flag four seconds behind Mathias with a mix of delight and mild disbelief. My worst ever BRKC result followed immediately by one of my very best. Such is motorsport.

With a marathon day one in the bag the BRKC leaderboard makes fascinating reading. After round 2, no less than five drivers have perfect scores. If we were to run the final now, reigning champion Ruben Boutens would only just scrape in (10th). Several of last year's finalists would not make the cut.

Several new faces - Mateusz Bartsch, Stefan Verhofste, Michael O'Brien and Remigiusz Drzazga, among others - are emerging as serious heavy hitters. Despite having set the fastest lap of the weekend so far and made no mistakes, Club 100 superstar Jonny Elliott sits 31st on the leaderboard after two of the most daunting heat draws in the championship. That, above all, shows how tough BRKC 2015 is.

And we're only halfway. As I write, day two kicks off in less than eight hours. 

Sleep fast, folks...

Click here to read the BRKC 2015 preview.
Click here to read the report from day two of BRKC 2015.

BRKC 2015. Milton Keynes, 16-18 January. Preview

The giant is stirring.

It's 360 days since the engines fell silent. Since the bubbly sprayed and the racers dispersed into a freezing January night. The British Rental Kart Championship 2014 is consigned to history.

Now a new chapter is upon us.

The past twelve months have seen our championship balloon in scale, its reach and popularity far exceeding anything that went before. BRKC 2015 is a monster, nothing less. Over three days of practice and racing, more than 20,000 laps will be logged by 90 drivers in 30 practice sessions and 40 races.

Formula Fast in Milton Keynes is the home of the BRKC, and I'm delighted to be returning to this deceptively difficult, technical indoor circuit with its superb facilities and viewing areas. Ollie Fox and his team are already working tirelessly to ensure that BRKC 2015 runs like a Swiss train station.

Commentating legend James Auld returns for another marathon stint as the voice of the BRKC. He'll call the races, conduct roving interviews and voice the live video broadcast - keeping the excitement level at fever pitch for two solid days. This, combined with the sheer number of bodies and the echoing roar of kart engines, will turn the race hall into a pressure cooker. We've had atmosphere before, but never anything like this.

When the visors go down and tunnel vision engages, it'll be harder than ever to hit the mental mute button. But to do well here you must find a way to relax, to cast off the shackles of pressure and tension. Racing on this circuit is an exercise in patience and absolute precision. And at this level, every last hundredth of a second will count.

The entry list is one of the most daunting I've ever seen. A mix of world champions, local specialists, BRKC topliners, names from elsewhere in motorsport - and a huge contingent of unknowns. Reigning champion Ruben Boutens returns as favourite to retain his crown. He had his work cut out last year. But BRKC 2015 has changed the game.

With 50% more drivers and a mid-weekend circuit layout change, just making the semi-finals is going to be a Herculean task. Luck will play its part as always. For the podium finishers, besides glory and kudos (and a racesuit soaked in 'champagne') glittering prizes await. The trophies would not disgrace an F1 podium; all three are complemented by a free entry to the Kart World Championships in Italy, for which the BRKC is a qualifying event.

There's a cash prize for the champion, too. By Sunday night, he or she will have earned it. And then some.

To the new BRKC'ers, I'm sure the combined efforts of founder Bradley Philpot and the Facebook community have already made you feel welcome. The BRKC is easily the friendliest karting championship I have ever competed in - but I know that the sheer scale of an event like this can feel overwhelming at times. If you're feeling a bit lost, the regulars are even more approachable in real life than on Facebook - someone will always be happy to chat. I'll try and get around to as many people as possible between races; feel free to doorstep me any time.

Official practice for the BRKC starts at 9.30am on Friday 16 January. The first race will start at 8am on Saturday morning. If you want to follow - or contribute to - the coverage across social media, search hashtag #BRKC2015. Live timing from the circuit and a Livestream video feed will also be available - visit the BRKC Race Hub for links.

Also, watch this space for a Day One wrapup on Saturday evening. A full championship report will be published late on Monday 19 January.

For the drivers, it's time to triple-check kit, wolf down carbohydrates, get as much sleep as possible. Try and speed up the ticking clock in your head.

And maybe pray a little.

This is going to be awesome.

Click here to read the report from day one of BRKC 2015.
Click here to read the report from day two of BRKC 2015.

British 24 Hours. Part 3 of 3: the final 12 hours

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 2.

Sunday 17 August

1.30am.

With six hours in hand until my final stint, I'm just beginning to shut down when Lee Jones appears and, apologetically, summons me back to the pitlane. Jonny Spencer's pitstop is upon us; I learn that he and Lee will be double-stinting overnight, partly so that Lee can leave early and continue his holiday with the family. Having rested overnight, Russell and Lee Hackett will alternate in the morning - supported by Sophie on the pitwall - to bring #11 home.

Still in my wet race gear, cold and bone-weary, I try and imagine getting straight back in the kart for another two hours. I would have done it if called upon, of course. But I'm heartily glad that I don't have to.

Jonny is in the fuel bay, standing beside the kart as the fuellers get to work, Lee giving him a pep talk over the radio. Then he pushes the kart around to us, hops in as we start him up, and away he goes. Even allowing for the wet conditions he will have covered more than 150 laps - 200 miles - by the end of his four hour double stint. Respect.

Back under the awning, the kettle's on; hot chocolate tastes sweeter than ever. I struggle out of my soaked overalls, cup my hands around the steaming mug, watch Lee Hollywood dancing #22 through the fast chicane at improbable speed on the slick surface. Marianne wears the headset, turns to me.
"He wants laptimes..."

I pick up the weariness in her voice and, for the first time in half a day, take a good look at my wife. She's been working flat out - mostly on her feet - for 19 hours now, and is long overdue a break. I take the headset and her phone up into the cafe. In the dry and warm, I spend a few minutes monitoring Lee's laptimes, updating him over the radio, and posting a Facebook update about our progress. The rain has died off a little but the circuit is still over ten seconds away from dry pace; Lee is lapping at least half a second faster than any other team in Club Hire. Only the leaders and our own Jonny Spencer in #11 are anywhere near his pace. Lee has gained another place to bring us up to fourth; Jonny is tenth despite having lost time in the pits to a brake problem.

Geoff White, father of Ed, is at the next table; we swap updates. Ed is on track now for the Titan Motorsports owner team, which has had its share of niggling problems and is running in the lower reaches of the top ten in its class. Ed, however, is flying in the tricky conditions, taking chunks of time out of his immediate competition. Business as usual, then.

After a couple of hours' rest, Alex and Lauren have returned to the team awning, with relief, Marianne and I hand over to them and retire to our tent. It's just after 3am; we set the alarm for 5.30am, try and shut out the racket of the petrol generator twenty metres away.

Two blinks later the stopwatch is beeping, hanging above my head. Wind gusts, tugging at the tent, grey daylight flickering between the moving branches of the trees above. The generator still roars nearby but something's missing: the karts. The race has been stopped; I yank on my clothes and stumble back out to the paddock.

The engines start up as I arrive, Marianne shortly behind: Lee Hackett fills us in. It was another crash for one of the Kartforce teams, thankfully less serious than the first one in the early hours. The driver is, we're told, shaken but unhurt. In even better news, the driver involved in the first crash has been released from hospital having escaped serious injury, and has returned to the circuit. That is a big relief.

Alex is in #22 approaching the end of his stint, while Lee Jones is just about midway through his marathon double stint in #11. Both crews have gained a place in the last couple of hours - #11 up to ninth, #22 back into a podium position in third. It's been a tough night for Corporate Chauffeurs, but hard work and great damage limitation has brought us through in good shape. With seven hours still to go, I try not to think about the podium.

It's pitstop time; Lee Hackett and I and a couple of others troop around to the pitlane. We turn first #22 and then #11 around without major incident - though there's a minor delay for #11. I start the right engine, hear a shout beside me and assume I haven't got it running. I pull the cord again, but there's no give: the engine is running. The cause of the delay is elsewhere: in the kart, Lee Jones is fumbling with the fuel cap, which isn't seated correctly; it takes him five seconds to sort it out and gun the kart towards the pit exit. Momentary panic, but no lasting problem.

With Michael into his final stint in #22, it's time for me to start preparing for mine. Lauren, Sophie and Marianne are working overtime at the camping stove producing breakfast for the team. The fatigue is beginning to bite now; my stomach is very reluctant to accept the (delicious) bowl of porridge handed to me. Lee Hollywood - due on track after me at around 10am - has returned after a couple of hours' downtime, but looks grey with exhaustion. "I don't feel so good..."

Crucially, Sophie has had a little more rest, and does much to lift everyone's flagging spirits and energy levels. My stomach beats a grumbling retreat, having managed to keep down my breakfast; I follow it with the strongest coffee I can remember. Minute by minute, as the sky turns from grey to blue and sunlight begins to wash across the circuit, I begin to feel human again.

At 7.30am it's time to get ready. With energy only for the task at hand, my surroundings are a blur. If we're to make the podium, we must all cast the fatigue aside and produce a clean final stint. Third time around, my ritual is automatic: ankle weight on, overalls on, rib protector, kneepads, boots, elbow pads, radio cabling adjusted, helmet on, radio transceiver clipped to rib protector strap, switch on, test, volume, retest, velcro Push-To-Talk button to overalls lap belt, grab seat insert... and wait for the call. There's a brief delay while Marianne changes the battery on my radio, to eradicate the irritating warning beep in my head.

Alex, Lee Hollywood and Marianne walk with me around to the pitlane. We meet Lee Jones on the way - somehow still conscious after over four hours in #11 - and I say a hasty goodbye. He'll have left before my stint is over; I'm sorry I don't have more time to thank him for all his help.

As I wait for Michael, the adrenalin is doing its thing: the tingle runs from my core to my fingertips. By the time I hear Marianne give him the BOX command I'm practically hopping from foot to foot. Michael rolls #22 into an empty fuel bay - perfect timing yet again - and delivers us the kart in excellent time. Like clockwork, I'm in and away; throughout the race, the pitstops on both karts have been exemplary.

The third stint always feels different. The circuit often seems quieter somehow, as if the field has clumped into three or four big trains, leaving long gaps in between. With Marianne urging me on over the radio, I dig deep and pour everything I have into extracting every last tenth without putting a wheel wrong or overstressing the kart. All fatigue has lifted away; my ten weeks of Teesside-specific training - hundreds of miles run, thousands of repeats in weight and core strength training - are paying off. I'm loving every second and the traffic - both Standard Hire and other Club Hire karts - is falling out of my way.

When Marianne gives me the one hour check, she asks if I can carry on for a full second hour: it will reduce the length of Lee and Alex's final stints to around 90 minutes. I remember the pallor of Lee's skin and answer yes without a second thought. I'm managing just fine and the pace is strong.

In my final 30 minutes the adrenalin finally starts to lose its battle with exhaustion; still it's with a pang of regret that I hear the BOX command. I peel into the pitlane, register over 215kg on the weighbridge again - could have managed without the ankle weight after all - and pour my last calories into pushing the kart towards the driver change area before releasing it to Jonny and Alex, and jumping out of the way. As Lee Hollywood blasts away towards the pit exit, I lean on the barrier as the others crowd around me.

Job done. I've kept us in third place. There's little for me to do now but wait. And dare to hope.

And eat. While I've done two hours on track, the girls - and Lauren in particular - appear to have done a similar stint making bacon sandwiches. Lauren takes a break from the camping stove while Marianne creates the Mother of all bacon and egg baps for me. Life is good - and improves further when an abundance of bacon grants me a second bap. Despite the number of Corporate Chauffeurs bodies, we've overcatered; Marianne begins stopping passersby and offering them food. Ryan Smith looks tempted, but is soon due on track for his final stint.

The Squadra Abarth team - Ryan, Connor Marsh, Ben Allward, captain Mike Kettlewell and pit/strategy wizard David Hird - have been beavering away since a couple of issues dropped them to 18th in class in the early hours. They're back up to fourth, a couple of laps behind us, and are keeping us on our toes - a compact, efficient team which combines serious pace with local knowledge.

The Northampton Maidens are still second, two laps ahead of us, having shown searing pace since the opening hour and, as far as I know, suffered no major issues. Leaders Teesside Tigers are long gone; having made the most of a visible straight line speed advantage, they're several laps ahead and will easily win our class barring any mishaps.

Lee Hollywood grits his way through his final stint with typical finesse; as 11.30am approaches, we troop around to the pitlane for the final time: Russell will take over from Lee Hackett to bring #11 home, with Sophie on the radio, while Marianne will call Lee in to hand #22 over to Alex. There's an end-of term feel in the air; with 90 minutes to go, a journey which started within days of last year's race will soon end.

#11 is turned around first, without delay; Russell heading out for the final time. They're ninth in class, with no hope of advancement unless other teams have problems; yet their enthusiasm is undimmed.

Marianne and Alex call Corporate Chauffeurs' final pitstop of 2014. Like virtually all the others it's as slick as a very slick thing. Only an avoidable extra pitstop for #22 in hour 10 mars an otherwise flawless record. With two karts to service and twice as many opportunities for things to go wrong, the team has risen to the challenge; from an operational standpoint, 2014 is easily our best year at the British 24 Hours.

Now, the minutes count down and we worry. We derig the awning, tidy away our gear, begin loading up the cars to try and avoid thinking about the race. About the karts and the merciless beating they've taken over a thousand plus miles. About how tired Alex and Russell must now be. We know, as every endurance race team knows, that our podium finish could evaporate in a second. It's happened to us before.

With half an hour to go, Marianne, Michael and I encounter Becca outside the briefing room. She raises her hands. "You're up to second!"

"What?"

Hurriedly she fills us in. The Northampton Maidens #37 kart lost its Nassau panel at high speed and has been stopped out on track while it's replaced. We've passed them and so has the Squadra Abarth team, dropping them to fourth.

We're not jumping for joy, though. Michael voices all our thoughts.
"I don't like getting second like that..."

There's talk in Race Control, briefly, of giving them the laps back, of restoring them to their original position. It comes to nothing and rightly so; the kart can run without its Nassau panel but is not legal. It's a mechanical failure. Cruel luck for the Maidens, and we sympathize. To their great credit, they seem philosophical about it - outwardly at least.

While this has been going on, the 68-kart leviathan continues to roar towards its conclusion, the leaders well past a thousand laps - 1300 miles - and counting. With five minutes to run, we crowd the barriers, anxiously seeking out our men and our machines, praying that both will last for just a few more miles.

1pm has come and gone by my watch, the held breath threatening to explode my chest... then I see them. Twin chequered flags held high, either side of the finishing line... dropped as the overall winners - MS Soco Select - power through. We cheer Russell home in #11, then I'm looking for Alex. I find him at the end of the banking... through the right hander, then the slow left, accelerating towards the line.

I'm up on the barriers, fist punching the air as Alex takes the flag in second place and the weight of three years of dashed hopes, disappointment and heartache lifts from my shoulders. It's done.

Like every male I avoid visible emotion at all costs, but I can't hold back the tears as I hug my wife and the others who made it happen. There's a huge gulf between knowing you're good enough for the podium and actually proving it; ascending the steps (to a huge cheer from the assembled populace) with the rest of the #22 crew is one of the sweetest racing moments of my life. As Alex accepts the trophy, his grin surely must be visible from space.

I'm delighted to be able to join the Squadra Abarth team up there - their third consecutive third place. Mike, Ryan, Connor and Ben - and their supporters - are as pleased for us as we are for them.

The winning team - Teesside Tigers - ran unchallenged for the length of the race. That doesn't make it any easier though. They had the machinery to win, and they won: we salute them.

There's a lasting ovation for the Northampton Maidens, denied a debut podium in the final minutes; they win a trophy for fastest lap in Club Hire and are named the most sporting team - thoroughly deserved.

There's more applause and thanks for the hardworking Teesside staff. This race is as relentless for the marshals, mechanics and race control staff as it is for us. A special mention for the fuel bay crews, who go about their dangerous job with speed, efficiency and endless good cheer - greatly appreciated by exhausted drivers in the dead of night.

For 2014, that just about wraps it up. There's still unfinished business, of course - until Corporate Chauffeurs finishes 1-2, there always will be. The #11 crew - Lee Jones, Lee Hackett, Russell Endean and Jonny Spencer, with Sophie and John backing them up - is an exceptional driver lineup; ninth place both a poor reward for their talent and dedication, and a place or two higher than most would have managed.

For #22 - Alex Vangeen, Lee Hollywood, Michael Weddell and myself, backed up by Marianne, Lauren and Chris Hollywood - the chips have finally fallen our way. We didn't execute a perfect race - there are lessons to be learned, as always - but our result is the best we could have achieved with the machinery we had.

For me, better even than the result is the spirit, the commitment, the enthusiasm and the sheer hard work put in by each and every member of the team - drivers and supporters alike; I'm privileged to work with them. The support we receive, both from our friends in the karting community and elsewhere, is hugely appreciated.

I think Michael summed up the Corporate Chauffeurs experience best of all:

"I LOVE THIS TEAM!!"

Thanks for reading.

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 2.

British 24 Hours. Part 2 of 3: The first 12 hours

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 3.

Saturday 16 August

The flag drops.

We drown out the engines as, seemingly in slow motion, the drivers dash for the karts... Michael slightly ahead of the pack, Alex holding the kart steady as he drops neatly into the seat... away, we're cheering as Lee Hackett accelerates past us in #11, the midfield pack tightly bunched... I'm already jogging back towards the awning as the back of the field disappears over the brow of the hill towards Turn 2.

Briefly, it all goes quiet - then the first of the owner karts erupts out from behind the hill in the centre of the circuit. They're line astern into the Esses at 75mph for the first of a thousand plus passes, the Club Hire field following a little way back. I search for Michael and find him fourth, dicing hard with Jonny Elliott in the ESR team kart.

Over the next 90 minutes, as the owner field pulls away at six to eight seconds a lap, the battle for Club Hire supremacy rages between Michael in #22, Jonny in the ESR, the #37 Northampton Maidens kart and the leading #16 Teesside Tigers machine - the latter beginning to stamp its authority and pull away. Michael is stunningly quick but occasionally a little ragged: a minor mishap with a Standard Hire backmarker sees him drop to 7th after being launched over one of the brutal Esses kerbs. I get on the radio and - as diplomatically as I can - ask him to take it easy. He's driving brilliantly - better than I would be - but there's a hell of a long way to go.

In #11, Lee Hackett is doing a sterling job in his first ever two hour stint and has lifted them from their grid slot of 16th to the fringes of the top ten. As I start to shut out the world and get ready for my stint, Jonny Spencer - who will take over #11 from Lee - is doing the same. Like last year, I'm forced to wear an ankle weight to clear the minimum weight limit - despite a month of cramming in the carbs - but Alex has made my life infinitely easier by bringing a much slimmer set of weights which comfortably fit under my overalls. No more hopping around on one foot with the seams of my overalls tearing.

We've elected to shorten the first stint slightly in the hope of bringing Michael into an empty pitlane; suddenly it's 2.45pm and I'm poised, seat insert in one hand, radio button in the other. Michael is in with no delay... as he pushes the kart over the line into the driver change area we descend upon it - Alex and Lee Hollywood starting the engines as I drop my seat insert into place and follow it. I'm still velcroing my PTT button to the steering wheel when I get the 'GO!' command and leave it slightly loose as I boot it.

Out on track I'm busy straight away, in amongst a train of owner karts, other Club Hires mixed in. In the rush since this morning I've not had much time to dwell on my worries about the kart, but they return with a vengeance almost immediately. I'm struggling to adapt to the oversteery balance, losing time in the crucial low-speed corners and being passed left, right and centre.

The owner karts have had a specification change this year, more powerful engines making the closing speeds even higher. Yet many of them seem oddly tentative when passing. Time after time they get halfway alongside me into the corners and hover there, neither backing off nor completing the move, compromising my line and slowing me down. Others are wildly optimistic, taking unnecessary risks in the high-speed corners; after being clouted hard on the entry to the fast chicane for the second lap in succession, I get on the radio and vent my frustration at the last person who deserves it - Marianne. Once I've turned the air blue, there's a short pause before she tentatively asks if there's anything she can do.

It's not a happy first hour.

But gradually, my laptimes start to improve as I anticipate the behaviour of the owner drivers - which I'm still not impressed by - and get a handle on the balance of the kart. I'm still a second or more away from Michael's pace in the opening stint, but the overall pace seems to have slowed: I'm losing time to the leaders but maintaining the gap to the karts around me. Having been overtaken by Ben Allward in the Squadra Abarth kart - which lost positions early on - I keep him in sight, using him to slipstream along the straights whenever I can.

And then, 90 minutes into my stint, petty worries about laptimes are put firmly in perspective when the race is red flagged; I'd been surprised by a marshal running across the track as I approached the pit entry, leaving a pretty narrow margin; as we trickle through the Esses at jogging pace, there's a kart embedded in the tyrewall before the hairpin. The driver is still in his seat, surrounded by marshals and a paramedic, motionless, his head being held upright. My throat is dry. It's an owner kart, which has gone off at a flat-out, 75mph section of the circuit.

The field is brought to a halt on the straight before the pit entry as the circuit ambulance arrives on the scene; we're instructed to switch off and get out. This is going to take a while. I realise that the injured driver is a member of one of the Kartforce crews of wounded veterans.

The circuit medics have called an external ambulance to take him to hospital; once it arrives, they take their time stabilising him. It's a full forty minutes - enough time for me to return to the awning and take on some fluids - before we're told to return to the karts. After another delay while the field is reassembled in order - during which I manage a brief chat with Ed White and Connor Marsh - we're underway again. Though I would never wish misfortune on anybody, the stoppage has helped us, wiping out some of the time I lost early on. Having started my stint in fourth place, I briefly fell to fifth before regaining the place. As is so often the case, my stint isn't as bad as it felt on track; we're still in the hunt for a podium.

Spirits lifted, I reel off another twenty laps or so without incident before Marianne gives me the 'BOX' command. Into the pitlane, slowing to walking pace, stop on the weighbridge - which reads 212.6kg, so the ankle weight did the job - leap out at the fuel bay, wait while the kart is refuelled, thank the ever-cheerful refuelling crew, push the kart 40 metres or so along the pitlane through the left turn into the driver change area. The others descend; I briefly forget that my seat insert needs to stay put; remember as Lee pushes it back into place and jumps in. Engines started, he rockets away. Solid pitstop.

Under the team awning, the girls have been busy: what looks like a truckload of fresh food has joined the stash of snacks and water. The air is redolent with the smell of roast chicken. Including the stoppage my stint has effectively lasted nearly three hours: as the adrenalin trickles away I realise that I'm starving. When Marianne offers me chicken curry for dinner, I nearly get down on one knee and propose on the spot - before remembering that we did that already.

It's 6pm. Five hours in, the sun is turning the scattered clouds gold, the temperature already beginning to drop. With a bowl of curry and cous-cous and a little time to reflect, I try to get my frustration under control. I was undeniably slow at the beginning - Marianne reveals that Alex was fretting, pressuring her to tell me to push, which would have been counterproductive - but I've managed not to lose us any places. Funds have severely limited my racing in 2014 - just three outdoor races since the British 24 Hours last year - and the rustiness has taken its toll. It could have been worse. I didn't actually do anything stupid.

And now, I've shaken off the cobwebs. Later than I'd have liked, but the pace is there and I'll be up to scratch in my two remaining stints.

On track, Lee Hollywood is pushing hard, lapping faster than all but the leading Teesside Tigers team; a cheer goes up as he retakes third place half an hour into his stint. #11 is still struggling for raw pace but Russell is dragging everything out of it and still running 11th. Spirits are high in Corporate Chauffeurs world as calories are ingested and we begin to hunker down for the long night ahead.

At 7.40pm we bring Lee Hollywood in and send Alex on his way. Again the pitstop is silky smooth, helped by the fact that we don't have to lubricate our own chains this year - the fuel bay crew is doing it for us. I head back to the awning and use the Race Monitor app on Marianne's phone to watch Alex's laptimes. The reason he was so anxious about my early pace was that he's usually a little slower than me due to weight; like me, he knows we have a real shot at this, and he doesn't want it to slip away. His laptimes start off steady but he finds his rhythm quicker than I did, and they improve. We're still P3. All is well.

Until just after 9pm, when I spot Alex on his way into the pits, prematurely, thumping his fist in fury on the wheel.

No, no, no... I'm already sprinting across the gravel between the buildings, along the alley between pit and paddock, down the hill to the Club Hire garage. Alex is there before I am, which tells me he's driven through the pits without refuelling; I mentally kick myself for not getting Lauren to remind him over the radio.

Alex is out of the kart, absolutely distraught as the mechanic examines the flat left-front tyre: he's made a rare mistake, going a little deep into the hairpin and dropping the left front wheel over the inside of the kerb. It's pulled the tyre off the rim but hasn't punctured it; the mechanics are already reinflating it. I tell him to take a deep breath and get past it; within a minute he's back in and ready to go. I take four attempts to start the left engine - this seems to happen every year, and in a flash of clarity I wonder if it's something to do with being left handed - but Alex is soon away as we jog up the hill to assess the damage to our race.

The plan is for Alex to pit straight away and hand over to Michael, but his radio cables are tangled; I tell Lauren to leave Alex out for a lap or two. This is getting messy. Mercifully, Alex comes in to an empty fuel bay; I hear him groan in effort as he pushes the kart into the driver change area and I tell him to start the left engine. I start the right engine this time, with no issues, and Michael is on his way.

We head into the briefing room where the main timing screen is located. The story is grim: we've lost at least four laps, and have dropped to tenth place. Back under the awning, Alex is practically in tears.
"I'm so sorry, guys..."

We try and reassure him, but all the drivers know exactly how he feels. No amount of consoling will help. It was a tiny mistake, so easily made, and he was dreadfully unlucky to lose the tyre - I saw several others get away with it - but there's no getting around the fact that it might have cost us our coveted podium. This is what makes endurance racing so merciless.

I excuse myself for half an hour, retire to our tent, and try to lift my spirits in private. I stare up at the shifting, dappling shapes of leaves on the canvas and wonder if I still have the motivation for this. To pick myself up, to help the team pick itself up. To fight our way back into contention. Again. For the fourth consecutive year.

After a ten minute power nap, and having given myself a stern talking-to, I return to the awning. I'm out next, in just over an hour's time, and I'll need to focus everything I have into dragging us up the field. Alex and Lauren have taken a break; Marianne mans the radio for #22 while Jonny keeps Lee Hackett informed in #11. I go up into the cafe to plug in the phone, post a Facebook update and warm up a little. Brad and Becca are there with Brad's grandfather; we swap stories of woe. The Baron team had a major engine failure in the early hours which dropped them right to the back of the field. Their pace is good, but they have a long fight ahead of them. It's good to see some friendly faces. This race is such a rollercoaster - physical, mental and emotional - that its tough sometimes to focus on the job in hand.

Spirits restored, I neck half a pint of coffee and get changed for my stint. It's coming up to 11pm - ten hours into the race - and I'll be taking over from Michael in half an hour's time. On track, the news is good. Michael's usual blistering pace and pitstops for others have lifted us to seventh in class, just a lap down on the second placed team - the Northampton Maidens, who are having a stormer of a debut. For Corporate Chauffeurs #22, all is not lost; I can't wait to get back out there.

We're a tad short of bodies, though. Aside from Marianne, only Chris Hollywood, Jonny and I are present - and Jonny and I are both out next. After some discussion, Marianne takes over, gets Lee Jones's phone number from Alex and summons him to the awning. It's times like these that I'm most in awe of my wife, whose project management skills seem adaptable to almost any situation.

But a lesson is learned: Chris pipes up in his quietly spoken way to remind us that he's here and is perfectly capable of helping out with a pitstop. I learn later that Russell, Sophie and Lee Hackett were all on call if needed. For future reference: we must use all the resources at our disposal, know where everybody is at all times, and improve communications. With so many more people on the team this year, we got a little sloppy.

It's graveyard shift time. Coming up to 11.30pm, body clock locked in a fight with caffeine and adrenalin: this, for me, is the most magical time of the race. After a couple of false starts - during which I tell her off for changing her mind and potentially confusing the driver - Marianne calls the stop. Michael is in bang on cue - again, to an empty fuel bay. He delivers the kart, Chris starts the engines and I'm away; I get straight on the radio and try to make amends for snapping at my wife, by complimenting her and Chris on a perfect pitstop.

I discover later that we were luckier than we realised: Michael had lost comms completely towards the end, and pitted two laps after he spotted Marianne in the pitlane in her bright green raincoat - an educated guess, and a good one. He had been making the hand signal for a radio failure, but we were having trouble spotting him in the dark. We change procedure, adding in regular radio checks towards the end of each stint if the driver has been out of contact for a while.

I'm out under the floodlights, on a dry track beneath cloudy skies. The wind is blustery, tugging at the vents on my overalls as I crest the hill beside the pits and slingshot down towards Turn 2. The kart's balance has changed in the hours since I last drove it, the wear on the front tyres swinging the balance back towards neutral; I'm flying in the low temperatures, taking just the right amount of kerb through the white-knuckle right hander at Turn 2,  carrying good speed through the tricky right-left-right of the corkscrew and dispatching Standard Hire karts with ease into the Esses.

Throughout the race, driving standards in both hire classes have been exemplary, with good awareness from the Standard Hire drivers and tough but clean racing from the other Club Hires. Too many of the owner drivers, however, are downright shoddy - bullying slower karts out of the way and taking some crazy risks into the fast corners. I do my best not to get tangled up with them, use their slipstreams wherever I can.

I'm into a great rhythm, loving every second, Marianne on the radio telling me my pace is very strong - when the kart is suddenly reluctant to turn in to Turn 2. I understeer wide of the kerb, pick up the line on the exit, wondering if someone's dropped oil on the track... and the tarmac is suddenly awash. No warning speckle of rain on my visor; twenty metres short of the flat-out right-hander at the beginning of the corkscrew, I brake - but it's far too late. I passenger straight into the tyre wall at 40mph.

The broadside impact shoots me out of the seat and rattles my head like a pinball; luckily the barrier is close to the circuit here; as two other karts bounce off the tyre wall to my right, I slither across the strip of wet grass to the tarmac and scramble up the corkscrew. I encounter a traffic jam of owner karts struggling to gain traction up the short, steep hill; it would be comical if I wasn't mildly shocked.

On the back straight, I get on the radio to inform Marianne about the crash, check kart and driver for damage as best I can. Both engines are still running, nothing feels bent. My neck is numb down the right side, but otherwise I seem to have escaped injury in the biggest shunt I've had in years.

After the initial cloudburst the rain is steady. I'm not a particular wet weather specialist but I can hold my own; over the following laps I adapt reasonably quickly, passing other Club Hire karts and some of the owners. We spend a couple of laps under a full course yellow while another crash is cleared; on a circuit this big it can be difficult to keep a marshal in sight and know exactly when the race is back on. Again, Marianne proves her worth by bellowing 'GO, GO, GO!' in my ear as the green flag is waved. I hear later that Lee Jones, beside her on #11's radio, was doing exactly the same thing. On the approach to the corkscrew, I get the jump on the two karts in front of me and a precious few seconds are gained.

I sense that the pace is good; Marianne confirms it by telling me I've moved us up two places to fifth and am running a couple of seconds quicker than much of the Club Hire class. In which case Jonny Spencer in the Corporate Chauffeurs #11 kart must be right at the sharp end - he passes me and edges away at half a second a lap. I try and follow him through the gaps he creates - then Marianne spoils my fun by calling me into the pits. Crash notwithstanding it's been a good stint and I'm sad to see it end. The rain continues; I get on the radio to say that Lee Hollywood - out next - is going to love this. He is a wet weather specialist. And then some.

We're in the maintenance stop window - all hire karts must take a trip to the garage between midnight and 2am - so I visit the weighbridge (215kg including half a stone of water) and loosen the fuel cap on the way to the fuel bay. I've elected to attach my radio button to my lap belt rather than the steering wheel, which saves time at both ends of the stint and costs nothing on track. I ask the fuellers to start the engines and drive #22 straight through the gate instead of through the pitlane - more seconds saved. Lee Jones is in my ear telling me to aim for the flashing red light at the bottom of the hill - and I spot him immediately in the murk, standing outside the Club Hire garage holding an LED keyring. A tiny detail which is typical Lee. God knows what we'd do without him.

I drive in, switch off, jump out and the mechanics get to work. Lee Hollywood is suited up and ready; I tell him as much as I can about the conditions and where grip is to be found, before the mechanics finish their work and restart the kart. In moments, Lee is in and on his way.

I take off my helmet and breathe, let the adrenalin start to seep away, nod in satisfaction. For now, it's going well. I glance at my watch.

1.25am. We're barely past half distance.

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 3.

British 24 Hours. Part 1 of 3: The Buildup

Click here to read Part 2.

Click here to read Part 3.

Friday 15 August

"Lee Jones isn't here yet. Lee Hackett left his helmet at home and had to go back for it. Russell is stuck on the M1. And nobody knows where Jonny is..."

It's midday on Friday, 24 hours before the start of the biggest race of the year. And on the face of it, the Corporate Chauffeurs team's weekend isn't off to the greatest of starts. Half of the drivers - the entire crew of the #11 kart, in fact - are absent. Captain Alex Vangeen is looking a touch strained. Our slice of the Teesside pitwall already looks like Glastonbury on clearup day. And the weather is turning darker by the minute.

But as I focus on fitting the radio headset cabling into my race helmet, I feel calmer than I have in weeks. We're here. The others will be here soon. Lee Hollywood's giant blue awning is up and secured; on the grassy bank behind the paddock, Marianne is putting the finishing touches to the Duff tent. We have a home for the weekend; as the minutes pass, the team begins to take shape and a semblance of order appears. In my fourth appearance at this huge event, I've learned to accept that Friday morning is mayhem. All will, soon, be well.

1pm. Suited, booted and helmeted, I cast off all concerns over logistics and turn my thoughts to rediscovering this monster of a circuit. As I run through my radio checks, Lee Hollywood points out that I'll be the first member of the team to turn a wheel. I hope it's a good omen.

As usual, the standard hire kart isn't a patch on the freshly fettled Club Hire kart we'll be racing tomorrow. But I don't care. The new radios - acquired at great cost and stress by Alex when our usual supplier let us down - are great, with much better sound quality than the usual items. I can understand Marianne and - crucially - make myself understood. Alex and I run through a radio failure pitstop test and fix an agreed position to show the pit board. My seat insert and rib protector are comfortable. And despite a typically tardy kart, the Teesside tingle is present and correct. I'm grinning all the way through the flat-out chicane in front of the pits, sucking in a breath over the sledgehammer kerbs at Turn 2, shaking my head as a pair of owner drivers flash past with inches to spare into the Esses. 

Feels like home. And it's good to be back.

I pit after forty minutes and hand over to Lee Hollywood, who spends his allocated twenty minutes grumbling over the radio about the state of the kart. But the gear is working perfectly and like last year he's comfortable using my seat insert. So far we've only had one technical hitch: Michael Weddell's radio microphone refuses to work: he can hear us, but can't reply. ("Could be a blessing in disguise..." a wag is heard to say.) We work on a series of colourful hand signals to get around the problem.

By the time I return to the awning, it's transformed: Russell Endean, his girlfriend Sophie and Lee Jones (and family) have all arrived. Sophie has already thrown herself in, helping Alex's wife Lauren and my wife Marianne stow the ever-growing piles of kit bags and bring order to the chaos. I finally meet Lee Jones's very glamorous wife Donna (she DOES exist) and his son and daughter. Jonny Spencer has arrived too, with grandfather John in tow.

Meanwhile, familiar faces from other teams are beginning to appear: Ryan Smith (and father Neil), Connor Marsh and parents, Geoff and Ed White, David Hird, Ben Allward and Mike Kettlewell - who captains the Squadra Abarth team, one of our likely challengers this weekend. Brad Philpot - founder of the BRKC which unites us all and therefore the reason I'm here - is hereabouts with his girlfriend Becca. They've already made our awning their second home. Which is exactly how it should be.

Around us the paddock is teeming as 68 teams and the better part of a thousand drivers, supporters, circuit staff and hangers-on prepare for the huge challenge that awaits us all. Virtually the entire pitwall - all 200-plus metres of it - is lined with team awnings. Behind the main circuit buildings, every inch of spare tarmac is covered with motorhomes, team trucks and marquees. Karts lie in pieces or up on stands, mechanics working feverishly; in hospitality tents, kettles and pots are already bubbling. The PA system booms with edicts from Race Control. And overlaying the noise and the chatter is the chesty roar of four-stroke kart engines. Nearly a full day before the race starts, but already you can taste the anticipation.

Out on track, Alex and Lee Jones are dialling themselves in while Michael's blagged a run in a kart owned by friend Graham Nairn, who runs the Raceland circuit near Edinburgh. Like most owner teams they use a practice chassis on Friday to save the race kart; nevertheless there's some consternation when Michael puts two wheels on the grass coming out of the Esses and pirouettes into the tyres. No harm done to kart or driver though: we give him ten points for style and refuse to let him live it down.

By four o'clock, Marianne and I and the Hollywoods are done for the day; we leave the others to finish their practice runs and head back to try and convince the manager of the Beefeater beside our hotel to reserve a table for 14 on a Friday night... Marianne's eyelashes seal the deal.

At dinner, there's a huge cheer for Lee Hackett, who made it - complete with helmet - after a mammoth ten hour journey. As I tuck into a rather good burger - the food's taken a turn for the better this year - the atmosphere around the table is crackling. We've been waiting all summer for this.

As usual in recent years, sleep comes easily for me. Tomorrow is a huge day, but today has been tiring and every minute of rest will count for the next 36 hours.

And, dare I say it, we're as ready as we can be.

Saturday 16 August

Race day dawns sunny. I never thought I'd write that about a weekend at Teesside.

By 8am we're on the circuit infield where the fleets of hire karts are parked. Kart selection time is a bunfight: over a hundred drivers crowd the patch of tarmac, trying to pick the best for their team. Without the luxury of testing it's an educated guess. But after our cracked chassis debacle last year Alex, Lee Hollywood and I are careful to check the underside of each candidate. After much discussion we make a decision; the #11 crew have also picked theirs and we get to work attaching the smart Corporate Chauffeurs/Mount UK branded Nassau panels. Along with the logos and race number, each has our names printed down the centre; I've never competed in anything emblazoned with my name and am thoroughly overexcited at the prospect.

Jonny and Lee Hackett have brought natty suede-rimmed steering wheels to replace the standard items, and lap timers. With the 8.30am driver briefing rapidly approaching there's no sign of them; after a stressful five minutes I learn that there's no rush: the schedule has been pushed back an hour, just like last year. This year it's down to a paperwork mixup instead of the weather; either way it's a relief. That's three years in four that we've started at 1pm: I think the gods are trying to tell us something.

As the others get to work fitting the steering wheels with Chris Hollywood's help, I realise that my wife is AWOL. It turns out that the lap timer destined for our kart is sans battery; she's on a Magical Mystery Tour of Middlesbrough trying to find one. The lap timer isn't essential, and I hope she's not tearing her hair out over it.

At 9.30 we crowd around the main building for the drivers' briefing which is, as always, refreshingly succinct given the scale of the event: it's assumed that we know what we're doing. Along with the usual flag procedures we're asked to take particular care over the pitlane speed limit, and to show respect to other classes on track. The last point will come back to haunt me.

And suddenly it's 9.59, the PA is blaring, engines are starting, and practice is underway. In a change this year, we have an hour of free practice followed by three 20 minute qualifying sessions - one for Standard Hire, one for Club Hire and one for the owners - in place of the two hour free-for-all of previous years. It's a sensible change, but it only gives us an hour to diagnose and fix any problems with our kart.

As the most mechanically literate of our foursome, Lee Hollywood has the honour of putting the first laps under #22's wheels; Lee Jones is out first in #11. #22 is back in the pits within minutes, Lee complaining that the chassis is slightly bent - not at all unusual in a hire kart - which makes it a little more eager to turn left than right. The engines are so-so. Two different Teesside mechanics take it out to test; after a tyre pressure check and an adjustment to the idle speed on the left engine, we're essentially told to get on with it. We could insist on a kart change but there's no guarantee of an improvement: with so little time, better the Devil we know.

As Lee exits the pits again for a final run I'm suited up and ready to go; I hear him muttering over the radio.
"This is a joke..."

Half of our practice hour is already gone when Lee rolls back into the pits and hands over to me. Over the radio, Alex instructs me to do five sighter laps and hand over to Michael. As I roll out in #22 for the first time, I'm expecting a revelation compared to the slow practice kart I drove yesterday. But it doesn't come; within a lap I'm worried. The kart feels sluggish in a straight line; top speed is fine but it's labouring out of the slower corners. And the handling is very pointy: the nose darts into every apex without a hint of understeer which is good - but the rear can't keep up. I suffer from snap oversteer into the hairpin and the corkscrew, sapping momentum and contributing to the lack of speed down the long straights which follow.

It's the antithesis of the balance I'm used to in karts; there's no time to dial myself in before I have to hand the kart over. I'm now seriously worried about the kart and my ability to extract speed from it - but there's nothing to be done. The locomotive is rolling, and we can't get off now.

Lee Hollywood was originally slated to do qualifying and the race start. But since he isn't overjoyed with the kart either, we swap Michael in - he's easily the quickest of us out of the box. I'm dimly aware that #11 is struggling for pace in practice, languishing in the midfield - but currently my focus is on our half of the team.

Qualifying. I take the radio and tell Michael to keep circulating until I call him in: we want to do as few laps as possible to save the machinery for the race. The new system, with separate sessions for each class, is working well, the drivers enjoying the lack of traffic as they try to bang in a quick one.

After fifteen of the twenty minutes, Michael lies second in class with a 1.20.2. He's not going any quicker, so I call it - just as he's bumped down to third. No matter. It's a solid start, and clearly there is fundamental pace in our kart. Which can't, sadly, be said for #11. They're languishing in 16th on a 1.21 flat - a full eight tenths of a second slower than us. Their engines aren't pulling well, and already they face a fight to make the top ten in the race.

As the circuit falls quiet, I'm reunited with Marianne, who has succeeded in her battery quest; Lee Hackett is fitting his lap timer to our kart. For the first time since 7am, we have a chance to draw breath, take on fluids, bolt a granola bar or two, and wait. At 12.30, the grid begins to form in the usual way: the karts lined up side by side facing across the track. I take pictures, look over the kart again, pose for photographs. Try to savour the moment I've been working towards for six months.

The all-woman Northampton Maidens team - which includes BRKC regular Rhianna Purcocks - has caught the eye by qualifying fourth for their first British 24 Hours, right behind us. I manage a brief chat with team captain Stephanie Walters - whom I know by reputation - and one or two of the others, and come away with an impression of steely determination. Debutants they may be, but this is not a team to underestimate.

Suddenly the minutes are ticking away, the engines starting; we line the barriers in our hundreds as the drivers take their places across from their karts, ready to sprint over when the flag drops. Some look anxious, hopping from foot to foot; if Michael is nervous he shows no sign of it. Alex holds the kart in position. The rest of us hold our breath as on the circuit infield, the start marshal raises the 30 SECOND board. As the seconds count down I shut my eyes for a moment and offer up a prayer.

Please let this be our year.

Click here to read Part 2.

Click here to read Part 3.

British 24 Hours 2014. Teesside, 15-17 August. Preview.

This is why I go racing.

For 51 weeks of the year, every training session, every running mile, every precious moment of karting seat time boils down to this. There are kart races, and then there is the British 24 Hours. For scale, spirit and sense of occasion, nothing in endurance karting comes close.

Every August, 70 top teams and 300 drivers flock from across Europe and beyond to duke it out over a day and a night on the longest, fastest kart circuit on Planet Earth. If the weather is dry, the winners will lap its gargantuan 1.3 mile length over a thousand times at an average speed of more than 60mph.

Think Plymouth to Inverness and back. No power steering, no seatbelts, no windscreen, no sleep. If there's a sterner test of stamina, teamwork and driving skill I've yet to experience it. And if there are bigger thrills to be had with your clothes on, I've yet to discover them.

The race is the blue riband event of the European Prokart Endurance Championship, a ten round series for owner driver teams. It will feature four classes - effectively four races in one. The big-money owner teams bring their own karts, mechanics and truckloads of support gear. Each of these teams competes in one of two classes with slightly different technical rules.

The other two classes are for hire karts which are supplied and maintained by the circuit. We'll be competing in the Club Hire class, the faster of the two. In 2014 ours is the most popular class of all, with over 20 teams entered.

In previous years good causes have abounded, with various initiatives and teams raising thousands for a number of charities; 2014 continues the theme. The two Kartforce teams of wounded veterans make a welcome return and again, the challenge they face makes ours look like a stroll to the shops.

Our longtime sponsors Corporate Chauffeurs have generously stepped up their support this year: two karts will run under their banner. Kart #11 will be driven by British 24 Hour regulars Lee Jones and Jonny Spencer with newcomers Russell Endean and Lee Hackett. Be not fooled by the newbie status, however - Russell and Lee H are multiple champions in other categories and bring a wealth of talent to their first 24 hour race.

Kart #22 will feature three quarters of last year's lineup and one defector: team captain Alex Vangeen will be joined by Lee Hollywood, Michael Weddell and myself. We're delighted to have lured Michael from the Squadra Abarth team - he proved his worth by helping them to a podium finish and claiming the fastest lap in class last year. Lee returns for a second campaign with us and is simply one of the finest drivers I have ever seen. In our fourth British 24 Hours together, Alex and I are approaching hardened veteran status. We bring more dogged determination than raw talent, but we know how to get the job done.

We will, as ever, be ably supported from the pitwall by Marianne Duff and Lauren Vangeen. Backed up by an enthusiastic (and long-suffering) crew of loved ones, they'll man the radios, look after the drivers and keep the team on its feet through a long, tough weekend.

With the hours counting down and packing underway, I'm offering up my usual prayer for Fate to smile on us. Come what may, the Corporate Chauffeurs team will approach the weekend with commitment and a sense of humour. But we want to stand on that podium. And I'll wager that no team will work harder for it.

Testing for the British 24 Hours starts on Friday 15 August. The race starts at midday on Saturday 16 August. Facebook and Twitter will be buzzing with regular updates and pictures throughout the weekend. The hashtag for both will be #B24. As always, any and all remote support will be much appreciated.

To everyone competing this weekend: good luck, and stay safe.

Game on, folks...

Click here to read the race report.

My novels

• Second Split
• The Art of Living Dangerously