For me, it's an early start on Saturday morning in order to be ready for the first test session at midday.  Beyond Cambridge, I head deeper into the mysterious east, and for reasons unknown a sense of foreboding looms over me.  I'm a naïve stranger to these parts and their Saxon ancestry (village names such as Shelfanger, Garboldisham and Thrandeston speak of a history that pre-dates Domesday) seems to strengthen my sense of dislocation.

Or perhaps it is the region's reputation for civil unrest?  After the Norman invasion, local politician and talisman Hereward the Wake dealt with his insomnia by skulking in the reed beds prevalent in this district and popping into town occasionally in order to stab any Norman Barons unwise enough to linger.  I'm hoping that tourists are more welcome these days.  I spy a road sign, it points to Grimstone End.

Other famous Norfolkians:

Charles "Turnip" Townshend

Andy "Turnip" Marshall

Canaries

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The weather on Sunday is foul.  High winds and frequent downpours sweep over us, but amazingly, a sunny interval combines with the scouring wind and we get to qualify in the dry.  It's a horrible 20 minutes for me.  The Saturday evening suspension changes have robbed the car of feel and me of confidence; I circulate miserably, trying not to hold up the other drivers or to take too much life out of my expensive new tyres.

This round has a small entry by Racing Cup standards with only 18 cars making it to the grid (there was a 19th, but that didn't survive Saturday testing).  I can safely say that I would have been a distant last on the grid if two other cars hadn't suffered technical problems.  So, I'm a lucky 16th,  My times are so far off the front that it seems almost certain that I'll be lapped during tomorrow's race.  Outside my garage, black clouds gather and the pressure of an incoming storm is palpable; within minutes we're treated to thunder, lightning and torrents of water; inside, things are even worse.

The answer, I conclude maturely, is to just go home.  Richard will not allow that and so eventually we compromise and do what he says.  We revert the suspension settings on the car and go for fish and chips.  Amazingly, I don't choke on a fish bone.

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When I arrive at the track on race day, the GTI is waiting for me in the paddock.  Memories of the event that ended my race at Silverstone prematurely come back.  Two weeks ago, number 24 was carried back to the workshop in a sorry state; but the boys in Milton Keynes have done a great job with the dent puller, cable ties and Autoglym - the car's remaining dueling scars now add a hitherto unseen dose of attitude.

How could I have even thought about going home and leaving her behind?

The rain comes and goes and comes again.  Forget the debate about dampers and springs.  Bolt on the wets and let's race!  Not too badly either.  Lap one is enlivened by my complete misjudgment of the grip available for braking as we approach the Esses at 130mph (there isn't any) and so I take to escape road and wait patiently for all the cars I'd just overtaken to stream past before rejoining in last place.  But I'm not the only one making mistakes.  At the finish I'm in the points and even better, I didn't get lapped.

Race one in summary: started 16th, finished 14th.

The weather improves during the day; not only does the rain stop for good, but the temperature soars to 16 degrees.  Not quite cool suit time, but better than 12 and heavy precipitation.

Emboldened by the meteorological upturn (or maybe the prospect of going home) the pilots of Volkswagens (and one SEAT) decide to put on a show for the Bank Holiday multitude.  The crash fest that results begins at the first corner and continues into lap two, giving the Clerk of the Course little option but to introduce the Safety Car to control the race while the situation is assessed.  Ultimately, the race is stopped.

After the debris is cleared we begin again, this time managing to get to the second corner, Sear, before three cars utilize a technique of high impact amalgamation to weld themselves together.  I come across them as they slide, as one, across the track and on to the wet grass.  I too am forced onto the grass to avoid their rolling scrum.  They keep sliding, I keep going wider.  Somehow I get around them, avoid getting stuck in the boggy run off, and make it back to the track.  The remaining runners are long gone.  Not for the first time this weekend, I'm in last place.

Once again the SC boards are hung out and the race is neutralised.  At least this time the accident scene is on the grass rather than the track itself and the racers can continue to circulate while the damaged cars are separated and pushed and/or dragged further away.  It's a break for me and I easily catch the tail of the pack.

Eventually the accident is cleared; after the Safety Car is withdrawn we manage four laps of racing - just enough for me to get past a couple of rivals and claim my best finish of the season to date.

Having (at last) made Richard happy, I am allowed to go home.  Result.

Race two in summary: started 14th, finished 10th.