Few grand prix circuits have have hosted as many memorable races as Silverstone, the sweeping, ultra-fast track in Northamptonshire, England. My first visit was for the rain-drenched 1988 British Grand Prix, a wet-weather masterclass by the late Ayrton Senna. But the races I remember most saw wins by the local hero, Nigel Mansell. Sadly I missed his legendary 1987 victory against Nelson Piquet, but I was there in 1991 and 1992 when Mansell drove a Williams-Renault and the crowd's enthusiasm approached hysteria.
In both years there was never any doubt he would triumph. His dominance was extraordinary - the way he pulled away from his teammate, the Italian Riccardo Patrese, made it hard to believe they were driving the same car. After the 1992 race all hell broke loose when the crowd invaded the track, and I happily joined the hundreds on the tarmac. I almost got run down near Club Corner by the Italian Michele Alboreto, who was revving his car and pressing forward to keep people at bay.
The routine at Silverstone usually involved driving down the evening before, sleeping in the family camper van, and getting up at about 4am to grab a coveted spot trackside. You had to do this as every section of the circuit would get packed 10 or 20 deep with fans. We would put out deckchairs to mark our spot and then explore the circuit's stalls and attractions on race morning. More often than not it was swelteringly hot - well, for England - by the time the race began.
In the mid-1990s I regularly watched Formula One cars pound round during testing with just a few other dedicated spectators. As he was driving out of the circuit late one afternoon, my favourite driver, the wily Frenchman Alain Prost, even stopped by to sign some autographs and chat with fans.
