So, I was at the petrol station. Filling my thirsty car who had been travelling on kisses and a promise.
Looking up I see a man coming towards the same pump. At first glance I could tell he was a biker, a very pleasant looking one at that, then I spotted the handles of the harley davidson on the other side of the pump. Over his biking gear he had a waistcoat/jerkin/gillet type thing. This had badges on.
The top one, obviously denoting his tribe:
Then, underneath this, was another one:
I was giggling to myself all the way home. The anarchic hell raisers of the New Forest have organised themselves into a committee. Which it has to be said, committees are indeed all kinds of hell.