Winter draws on. Well, winter may be passed but it's definitely a case for the thermals as yet another speedway season gets underway in the frozen tundra of North Wiltshire. I seem to recall a description of speedway in a book that stated it was a "summer sport"! It certainly didn't feel like a summer sport last Thursday for the 2008 season opener against Eastbourne in the Craven Shield nor against Coventry last night in the Elite Shield, speedway's version of the football's Community Shield.

But I shouldn't complain. The alternative to this frozen start is a later one with us going straight into the Elite League programme. At least this way we have a number of meetings just to get everything working smoothly. Don't get me wrong - we treat these early fixtures, no matter what competition, deadly seriously, and we have tried to cover all eventualities over the close season, but you can't be certain of anything until the first meeting is done and dusted.

Thursday didn't afford much opportunity for photography, largely because it was very cold, blowing a gale and as miserable as you can imagine.

However I did manage to catch Gerald "Jackson Pollock" Richter and Rod "Pablo Picasso" Ford indulging in some modern art in the reserve pits' area. Adopting a minimalist approach with hints of post modern cubist artistry and composition, they set to on large canvasses (made from 6 ply) using just four colours: red, blue, green and yellow. Completely involved in their artistry, they hardly noticed young Adam emulating Julie Andrews in "Mary Poppins" as the wind caught hold of an advertising banner that he was carrying.

With the fences up and ready, and being cleaned thoroughly, we hastened back to the warmth of number 96 where it was decidedly warm and cosy.

We help off from watering the track - the storm clouds were massing and the forecast was dreadful. Karen, affectionately known to all as Flo, our Sports Therapist appeared mid afternoon to show that she has made a modification to her front door - the new number 94. When the lady from the First Aid centre saw this she asked if I could arrange for a number 92 to be put on her door. But it all got a bit silly when Clerk of the Course, Mick Hunt, still smarting from being turfed out of his cosy office in the pits (it's now Rita's hot drinks emporium), and being relocated in the small electrical cabinet that also houses the hot water for the showers, asked if he could be number 90.

But enough of this nomenclaturial nonsense. "Hello mate, how are you?" I turn around and there is the beaming face of a newly shorn (judging by the ferocious crew cut he now has) Lee Richardson. Eastbourne have borrowed our Lee for just one season, and it's good to see him back. He has been a bright and breezy presence in the pits at Swindon over recent years and many of us were gutted when the points allowance meant that he had to leave this year.

To say that the meeting didn't run smoothly is an understatement. My main concern was with the pits' gate air panel. You can try to take account of every eventuality but this one caught us out.

The pits gate panel is the only one that has to be moved during a meeting (after each heat it must be opened and closed) and , like it or not, these panels are not designed to be moved. They become heavy with shale, the thick rubber kick board catches on the track and pulls underneath the bag, linkages become stretched to breaking point. And our fence is now some years old and the stitched seams are weaker than they were and the very fabric of the panels is becoming increasingly brittle and prone to damage. Also worth adding is the fact that the pits gate panel is the one panel that cannot easily be replaced in event of a problem - it has to be modified just to be able to sit easily between the other bags whilst still being capable of moving back and forth easily.

And so my heart sank when, after heat 8 I heard the guys on the pits gate calling me over. Whilst trying to close the gate someone had pulled rather too vigorously on one of the fixings on the back of the panel and a great section of the stitching had come away revealing a hole that could easily accommodate my hand. With air gushing out I tried to make a quick fix with tape but a combination of air rushing out, a wet and dirty bag and the referees desire to get through the meeting before the heavens opened meant that the repair was less than satisfactory - in fact it lasted just one heat.

We turned up the air pump but the damage was done and despite my efforts, the panel was sagging by heat 12. I tried to close the gaping hole by cable tying the flapping edges but I knew all was against me when someone tried to open the gate while I was trying to make a surgical incision in the air bag with a sharp knife. Result, knife slips and I stab myself. Life is cruel.

By heat 14 the wind was whistling through the pits and blowing against the sad remnant that used to be the pits gate air panel. So desperate was the state of the panel that the ref actually brought a premature halt to the race - thank God the result was not resting on this heat!

But it wasn't over yet. We go through heat 15 but then the lights went out in the pits and a couple of riders wanted after meeting practices. By the end of the meeting I was not only knackered but also tearing my hair out trying to keep the air fence from falling over. And when we let down the air fence at last we found out that a peg had been left in place. Doesn't sound much but the whole weight of the entire section of panels then hangs on this one peg and it requires some serious work with a large hammer to loosen it.

Friday morning was spent putting my thoughts on what went wrong down on paper and trying to come up with solutions prior to Sunday's meeting with last year's triple winning Coventry outfit in the first leg of this year's Elite Shield.

Not that Sunday started all that well. I had inveigled my son David to come along and work on the Sunday. And so at 8.30am we arrived at a winter wonderland of a track. The track surface was completely covered with snow. After a brief snowball fight we gathered (Gerald, Punch, Keith, Dave and me) work out a plan for action.

Snow is not good for a track. While rain will fall and the majority will run off straight away, snow melts slowly, too slowly for any run off and so the whole surface becomes mushy and soaked. Trying to plough it off would damage the surface so we decide to concentrate on getting the air fences and catch netting up in readiness for cleaning with a jet washer. The panels are thoroughly coated with a thick layer after Thursday night's efforts so cleaning will take some time.

By the time that the panels are all inflated and attached to the safety fence the temperature has risen sufficiently for the snow to have cleared. In fact, it's not too soon before the leaden skies lift and the sun comes out. But it's bitterly cold and the wind is whistling in from the north, although this isn't such a bad thing because at least the wind will dry the surface.

Gerald soon has the chain harrow circulating behind the tractor. This gently turns over the surface and opens it up for drying.

Dave and I turn our attention to the sad affair that is the pits' gate air panel. First job is to drag it into the pits and clean up the area surrounding the damage. I use a contact adhesive to put on a large patch (we use super glue for very quick fixes but it does become brittle and will know flex as the air panel should.

With the hole patched and a new air connector fixed in place, Dave and I sat down to ponder the best way of handling the air bag as it opens and closes during a meeting without unduly pressuring the already weakened structure.

In the end we decide to use two thick woven bands which circle the bag and which will support it when it is lifted. We work through a number of ideas before deciding on one that required minimal structural changes to the bag itself.

Mid afternoon, while Gerald desperately tries to dry out the very boggy areas out near the fences, we try the bag out in situ. It works.

Mid morning and we've been joined by Adam and a mate of his. Mark Price arrives and we settle down for a pre planned ritual burning of good food, in this case a shed load of sausages purloined from various supermarkets in the area, mostly two for the price of one buys.

It's too cold to Bar B Q so Punch has brought up a small electrical hob and we cook our lunch in a frying pan. It's not the Roux brothers or even Gordon Ramsay (although the language gets a little close at times) in fact, on reflection it's more case of Delia Smith meets Conan the Barbarian.

But they taste good and the aroma is priceless.

Warm, full and refreshed we venture out into a blizzard. Four hours to tapes up and the snow is buffeting our front door and making life thoroughly uncomfortable for us all. The weather forecast for later is not good but as soon as we begin to contemplate a possible cancellation the sun comes out.

We scatter large quantities of brick dust onto the track, especially around the outside. It doesn't bind that well but brick dust certainly absorbs a great deal of moisture. We desperately don't want to have to resort to spreading saw dust at this early stage of a season - that really messes up a track.

While others are spreading the dust, I, in my guise as the "World's Worst Tractor Driver", am given the job of gentle tyre packing gate four, always wet at the best of times, but now positively sopping. Aboard a new Kubota tractor with lost of gears and levers and things, I drive up and down compressing the surface and encouraging the liberal amounts of brick dust to absorb as much moisture as possible. Photographic evidence to the effect that I did not destroy the safety fence is courtesy of my son's camera - thanks Dave!

By the time that I've finished the brick dust can be clearly seen as a lighter reddy brown and the smoothness of the track gives the lie to comments from Coventry fans later on a bulletin board who subsequently try to claim that their side was beaten on a "ploughed field".

Right up against the fence on turn 3 we have to apply some sawdust, but if a rider gets that far up there's only one place they're going to end up, and that's in my fence, most probably the pits gate panel with my luck.

We say a farewell to Mark Leakey, a member of the track staff who worked turn 2. He's been recruited to join the hospitality team and proudly displays a very smart line in suits. Rumours that all track staff are to be kitted out in two piece suits are hastily quashed.

And the meeting ... great. The team worked really well. Everyone did their jobs and the result was a cracking night The pits gate worked wonderfully - no problems at all