My weekend
May. 6th, 2003 12:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaIt was Hastings Jack-in-the-Green festival this weekend, so I was down there dancing rapper in the odd pub or two. For a few reasons I felt a bit disconnected from the festival this year, so I hope the people who were involved did it properly, and that the sun will shine for the rest of the summer.
(The Hastings festival involves a Jack, or Green Man, made of leaves, who dances through the streets all day, and then is "killed" at the castle in the late afternoon. Killing him symbolises the death of winter, and ensures a good summer.)
We were dancing yesterday and Sunday, but most of the action is really on the Monday, when we couldn't get a team together. Samantha and I watched the procession go past - the Jack and his Bogies (men in green rags, with drums, who guard him), various Giants, morris teams of all kinds, more people hitting drums than you can imagine (or possibly want), what looked like a few local covens, people with poi, and, well, just people who seemed to feel like it. It's said that all you need in New Orleans for a parade is a marching band - in Hastings on bank holiday Monday, all you need is a drum. Start playing, and people will join in. Hundreds of 'em. Really.
Hastings town centre is a an odd place. It's very much split into the New Town (looks a bit run-down, full of low-end shops, full of fights on a Saturday night), and the Old Town (looks very quaint, full of antiques shops, everywhere decked out in green branches and ribbons for the festival). The dichotomy does make it feel like a place that isn't very comfortable with itself. In addition, it seems it still has a lot of local rivalry among the different fishing families (sound more like clans...). I'm not sure I like it, in many ways...
Hastings does, however, do books shops well. There are two second hand bookshops in particular that I'd probably drive all the way down there just to visit. One is a smallish shop stacked to the gunnels with books - I don't think you could seriously look through everything they have in under a couple of days, and that would involve some hard-core shifting of piles of stock. Better, everything is gloriously cheap - I bought two carrier bags full of books, and paid just over eight quid for the privilege. The other bookshop is more realistically priced, but has the most extensive and eclectic (and well-ordered) stock I've seen in ages. I now have enough books to last me the rest of the year, at least.
Oh, and on bank holiday Monday, Hastings is full of bikers. Full, I tell you. According to one of my colleagues, it's the May Bank Holiday Run - "the most boring run of the year". Which doesn't stop them turning out in their thousands, adding engine noise and burnt rubber to the green paint and drumming. I always find it strange to see huge blokes, all leathers and tattoos, sitting about drinking cups of tea and eating doughnuts.
It does mean that driving home is... interesting. The roads are full (again, full I tell you) of bikes. All along the A21 back towards London there are drifts of people sitting at junctions or on bridges, purely to watch the bikes go by... which seems strange, but I do kind of enjoy watching them. I'm a bit unconvinced by the person who'd covered their helmet in pink plush fur, though.
It does seem that with bikes, unlike cars, there is a certain correspondence between engine size and competence. Any idiot can drive a 2 litre car (and often they do). But on the whole, it does seem to be the case that the riders who nearly kill you doing stupid things are all on relatively small-engined bikes, and the larger ones may well overtake you at high speed, but will at least do so safely. This does not apply to Goldwing riders, who appear to think they're tractors. Nor does it apply to anyone riding a bike in Kawasaki green, who all, without exception, appear to be twats. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ach? Nick? Anyone? Any basis for this, or am I making it up?)
I have no idea what sort of bikes the two people who went past me riding on rear-wheels only, on the wrong side of the road, just before a blind summit were on. At least we didn't see them in pieces later...
I've fallen behind with my nominations for Designated Hero of the Week. I don't think we've had one since I came back from Whitby.
However, last week's designated hero is Chris C, for once again providing me with some new music in a timely and unexpected manner.
Continuing the Chris theme, the previous week's hero should have beenao_lai for being most generous with both his car and his sobriety, and thus allowing Toby, Frances and I to drink large amounts of beer on the way home from work on Friday.
(The Hastings festival involves a Jack, or Green Man, made of leaves, who dances through the streets all day, and then is "killed" at the castle in the late afternoon. Killing him symbolises the death of winter, and ensures a good summer.)
We were dancing yesterday and Sunday, but most of the action is really on the Monday, when we couldn't get a team together. Samantha and I watched the procession go past - the Jack and his Bogies (men in green rags, with drums, who guard him), various Giants, morris teams of all kinds, more people hitting drums than you can imagine (or possibly want), what looked like a few local covens, people with poi, and, well, just people who seemed to feel like it. It's said that all you need in New Orleans for a parade is a marching band - in Hastings on bank holiday Monday, all you need is a drum. Start playing, and people will join in. Hundreds of 'em. Really.
Hastings town centre is a an odd place. It's very much split into the New Town (looks a bit run-down, full of low-end shops, full of fights on a Saturday night), and the Old Town (looks very quaint, full of antiques shops, everywhere decked out in green branches and ribbons for the festival). The dichotomy does make it feel like a place that isn't very comfortable with itself. In addition, it seems it still has a lot of local rivalry among the different fishing families (sound more like clans...). I'm not sure I like it, in many ways...
Hastings does, however, do books shops well. There are two second hand bookshops in particular that I'd probably drive all the way down there just to visit. One is a smallish shop stacked to the gunnels with books - I don't think you could seriously look through everything they have in under a couple of days, and that would involve some hard-core shifting of piles of stock. Better, everything is gloriously cheap - I bought two carrier bags full of books, and paid just over eight quid for the privilege. The other bookshop is more realistically priced, but has the most extensive and eclectic (and well-ordered) stock I've seen in ages. I now have enough books to last me the rest of the year, at least.
Oh, and on bank holiday Monday, Hastings is full of bikers. Full, I tell you. According to one of my colleagues, it's the May Bank Holiday Run - "the most boring run of the year". Which doesn't stop them turning out in their thousands, adding engine noise and burnt rubber to the green paint and drumming. I always find it strange to see huge blokes, all leathers and tattoos, sitting about drinking cups of tea and eating doughnuts.
It does mean that driving home is... interesting. The roads are full (again, full I tell you) of bikes. All along the A21 back towards London there are drifts of people sitting at junctions or on bridges, purely to watch the bikes go by... which seems strange, but I do kind of enjoy watching them. I'm a bit unconvinced by the person who'd covered their helmet in pink plush fur, though.
It does seem that with bikes, unlike cars, there is a certain correspondence between engine size and competence. Any idiot can drive a 2 litre car (and often they do). But on the whole, it does seem to be the case that the riders who nearly kill you doing stupid things are all on relatively small-engined bikes, and the larger ones may well overtake you at high speed, but will at least do so safely. This does not apply to Goldwing riders, who appear to think they're tractors. Nor does it apply to anyone riding a bike in Kawasaki green, who all, without exception, appear to be twats. (
ach? Nick? Anyone? Any basis for this, or am I making it up?)I have no idea what sort of bikes the two people who went past me riding on rear-wheels only, on the wrong side of the road, just before a blind summit were on. At least we didn't see them in pieces later...
I've fallen behind with my nominations for Designated Hero of the Week. I don't think we've had one since I came back from Whitby.
However, last week's designated hero is Chris C, for once again providing me with some new music in a timely and unexpected manner.
Continuing the Chris theme, the previous week's hero should have been
ao_lai for being most generous with both his car and his sobriety, and thus allowing Toby, Frances and I to drink large amounts of beer on the way home from work on Friday.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 03:03 am (UTC)Yes, it was definitely that colour.
Further investigation reveals that it was a ZX60, and thus not all that big of a Kawasaki.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 03:04 am (UTC)If the cap fits...