Sunday 13 August 2017

Intermission.

                                                               
When I started this blog it was to chart my progress and experience getting into reenactment, where to buy stuff, where to get information, what to avoid, how events were organized, what common experiences there were?.. I'm not sure if the blog really fits that remit anymore.

Should I talk about tips and tricks of gun maintenance? or camp cookery? or delve more into the history, revealing everything a soldier would have had in his pack? should I review gear? what has faded and torn? what arrived three months late? or carry on with the story telling... Or I could find things to rant about I'm sure.

Don't worry, this is not like your insecure friend threatening to delete their facebook account so people can cry out  'No, don't go!'

The blog will continue.

I like the idea of being able to look back after ten years and read about a day I spent at Horsham town museum as much as reliving some epic aspect of a battle in Eastern Germany so it will at least go on as a Diary and if you want to tag along for the ride then great. I did ponder whether to write about Eastbourne as it is an event I have been to four times now, but felt it would be incomplete not to at least give it an honourable mention as a nice day out!


There are still new things on the horizon, I should be going to the American civil war international event near Nottingham next month.. new era and also new experience as I will be going as a civilian, a journalist in fact and for some reason, more so than soldiering as a Frenchmen, I feel I should have a new character.. Wilfred Armitage of Maryland, freelance journalist, failed author. Trying to capture the truth of the war that divides a nation, claiming impartiality, but not really convinced of it himself. I suspect this feeling is borne of playing an individual instead of one of a group. You can talk about the history of the 45th regiment, their trials and tribulations, how they fought, their battle honours, you can't do the same in the third person for a fictional character.. although you can talk generically about journalism, telegraphs, news agencies and the general history of the times.


The possibility of making an appearance at an eighteenth century do as some stray Frenchmen helping the jacobites (or possibly the Americans) may also come about, have tricorne will travel. I still have not had cause to wear my Franciscan Monk's habit.. yet, but adventures in the 45eme will always be the priority.

                             Ever Onwards. There's always something new. 








By the Seaside.

The sun was shinning down on the happy beach goers as I strolled along Eastbourne promenade towards the redoubt.. but then.. Thunderbolts and lightning! Rhandolph has landed! 


It certainly helped wrap up the event for the day and soon the 45eme crew were off to the Belgian cafe for the evening. I was tempted by the £17.50 beer of the century just to find out if it was REALLY worth it, to say you had tried it.. but didn't, we instead had giant six pint carafe things with a tap on the side. All very agreeable, with Dutch hummus.


Next morning with some time until public admission we all went to the beach and some ventured into paddling in the sea, some put off by the prospect of having to do up their gaiters all over again.
Then along the prom for an ice cream or two. It was a lovely event as it did feel very much like a family outing to the seaside.


Since our last visit the museum has been extended and is now dedicated to the redoubt and it's personal history instead of the more regimental museum of before.
After a brief drill and firing display I managed to traumatise a child when her father jokingly said 'Look out, the Frenchmen is going to get you!' and playing along chased after the small scooter borne child going 'Raaaagh'. It remained in tears for some time afterwards. Oh well.


The skirmish began with us rushing in and firing a couple of vollies into the Scots before advancing, we then rushed the stairs where the rifles were.. and we were repelled, taking casualties.. meant to be A casualty but in the moment three of us all decided to be that casualty. No one can say we don't die. This unfortunately left only Duncan, who I believe may have picked up a musket, and John to carry on the fight.
Briefly.

Professor Flapjaque returns to entertain the masses.

Eastbourne is always a good little event where the museum/saff pretty much leave the smattering of reenactors to do their own thing. I suppose it can only help support the redoubt/museum and we are pretty much volunteers, all here for the fun, ice cream and Belgian beer. 

Should be back next year! 





Wednesday 2 August 2017

Absolutely Marvelous.



Three days later and I still can't get Abba out of my head. 

For some time we have had an invitation to drop in and parade about at the Marvelous festival, a celebration of (hopefully) top quality tribute bands, whom I shall refer to by their proper names. Last year the invitation got a bit more formal, a group, with actual things to do, and this year even more so. Arriving on the friday evening there was a couple of drinks in the small stage tent, just out of the rain, and the treat of an Elvis impersonator.


One of our main duties was keeping certain areas free of tents/chairs/people as everyone poured in looking for an advantageous place to sit/set up camp.. mine was the walk way that split the main viewing area in half and by the disabled seating area. When the gates were flung open it was quite daunting to see this human wave armed with deck chairs, pic nic baskets and crates of cider coming towards me like a horde of refugees from Tunbridge Wells. After only a few quiet words the lines of demarkation for the walk way were set and it became evident that it was a no go area. 

This was a large chunk of Saturday afternoon, everyone sat under the rainy awning.

At five o'clock we did a musketry display, announced from the stage more people wandered over than expected and so a firing competition was quickly improvised into the bargain, this would be repeated on the Sunday. People mingled asking questions afterwards including some very tipsy women who wouldn't believe they were real guns despite one of them having watched the end of the display.


A free staff dinner later we returned to the camp, where I managed to fall off my chair carrying a glass of wine, before disappearing to go and see the (UK) Foo Fighters.

Our musketry display was received with rapturous applause, and this was just my bit.

'So do you normally dress like this at the weekend?'


Sunday morning, the joys of litter picking. The punters had all been given a bin bag on entry which was a good idea but still there was rogue rubbish, including a sadly deflated parrot and random olives... and then, after it had rained all night, we were given pitchforks for spreading hay into the worst of the mud and big puddles. 

Down on le farm.

No one wanted to be near the crowds when 'Waterloo' came on. 


Some of the bands completely passed me by although I did catch some of Bryan Adams, not deliberately, which is basically the soundtrack to midlife crisis. I was glad we left before Madness were on as it is my experience that hearing Madness instantly changes grown men into those weetabix characters from the 1980s. 
I would have liked to have stayed for the grand finale of Queen though but it would quite simply have meant staying over another night with no money left and in whatever ditch I could find. 

It was literally a marvelous weekend, despite the rain, and something a bit different. Another experience reenactment has brought to me that I would otherwise have missed. Maybe next year I shall try to make it to a battle prom, which is basically a classical concert with a few musket vollies thrown in. If only Rammstein would give us a gig.

until then 'We are the champions!'