|
|
 |
|
|
|
Fletching
| Lewes (1) | Lewes (2)
| Linthicum | Battle (1)| Battle (2) | Mineral Wells | East Hoathly & Halland | Rye |
Hastings 1999 by Pete Welch
There we were, the Friday before Hastings Bonfire (again - where does the year go?), waiting on the beach at the crack of - oooh, about eight o'clock for the first signs of life. As the morning progressed, boats were dragged across the beach, pallets were hunted down in corners far and muddy, and construction began, to the cries of "Where's the kettle?". Fortunately (for certain select personel, hem hem) the collecting of pallets involved a small diversion to the West End cafè, and a splendid fry-up at meagre cost.
As the day wore on, barriers (don't mention the barriers!) appeared and were unloaded in preperation for the Saturday, and we concluded with a Carlisle beer or some before returning to guard the bonfire until the early hours, failing however to prevent certain 'graffiti' appearing on the landward hulk. Saturday began early with much abustle on the beach, and the highlight of the morning - the collection of the effigy from Poppinghole Lane. The A21 trip back to Hastings, in the cab of a flat-bed in convoy, whilst Shane and Guy took turns to look worried and throw accumulated twigs (from trees - not the publicity department!) back to their wild habitat, and persuade the driver to keep below 50mph - but that's another story!
Reaching the shore, the manhandling of the effigy to its final resting place began, followed by breaks for sausage sarnies and tea (many thanks to Eileen, Margaret and Liz in the caravanteen). More barriers (don't mention the barriers!) were distributed, and the firing crew placed their charges, whilst diligent programme-sellers flogged their wares to innocent passers by. The fire was slabbed off, all preparations progressed towards conclusion, and suddenly 'twas time to prepare for the night ahead.
Assembly behind EHSAA in the dark was accompanied by the growing throb of drums from all around; other Society members milled in a huge crowd, and the procession start was duly announced with the beacon and flare mortar. Torches in the Old Town, crackers in the street, the scent of flammables in the air - bonfire was back in Hastings again! The final stage, rallying on the fire-site, was followed by a 'swift' ignition of the pyre and a spectacular display by Same Sky, and cumulated in one of Mr. Beechings finest - crescendo after crescendo, cross-firing and echoing around the town before the effigy went its singular way to the delight of the crowd.
Memories of the day are many, varied, and often hazy, in no small part thanks to some of Brian's excellent brew, and especially those of the fire-site at sunrise next day, but one which will stay with me for some time is the astonishing gamut of expressions, from exhilaration and delight to shock and sheer unmitigated terror, which Guy presented from atop the effigy as we travelled the A21 that Autumn morning - smile Guy, 'cos we did!
There must be something about mid-to-late October which attracts foul weather to the middle of Sussex - just around the Fletching area. There also seems to be a tradition of breaks in the heavy dusk sky which appear during our bus journey up the A22, and this was in evidence again on the evening of Saturday 23rd October. This year, however, the 'promise' was shamelessly broken, and the procession was treated to a variety of strengths of downpour, throughout which the Bonfire Drummers continued their efforts undaunted.
Gorgeous George was in fine fettle for the evening, dauntlessly detailing the Bonfire (and other) groups present for the benifit of the seventeen (no, it was more than that, surely?) locals thronging the streets. Once again the sterling catering efforts of 'some ladies' in the Village Hall provided a welcome and economical source of sustenance for those of us in such need, as indeed the bar-staff of the Griffin and the Rose & Crown met the demands of thirsty travellers in search of libation (yes, that does mean we got some beer!)
Arrival at the fire-site at the end of the second procession revealed more mud than you could shake a drumstick at, but we must be grateful that the recently ploughed field had at least been recently rolled also - otherwise there might still be Bonfire members mired like so many blackened scarecrows in that field. The blaze, though modest in size, provided a welcome source of warmth and dryness, whilst we settled to enjoy the display.
Cascades of silver, red and green mimicked the elements before cross-firing stars and thumping mortars, screaming rockets and whizzing shell-bursts filled the Autumn sky. Again and again the thud of tubes discharging their air-bound cargo echoed across the arena, whilst a visual echo arose occasionally from another display in the far background. The closing star-bursts filled our vision, whilst at the same time forcing heads back to stare almost directly up - leading to the discovery that my hat was wetter at some ancles than others!
Finally the show was over, and the mud-stained throng headed back across the slippery slope to beer and food, before assembling for the march back to the transport and homeward bound. A splendid evening - and my thanks go out to the kind soul who saved some mud especially for us - a most generous gesture.
At 3.30 the skies opened
, and it looked like it would be another wet one, but by the time
we go to Lewes, we had clear, cold starry skies. The Commercial
Square were chanting the contentious second Pope verse. Then we
processed in silence to the war memorial to lay our wreaths and
then back to the pub for a beer. The off to the United grand
procession, which this year felt bigger than ever, I reckon two
miles long.The earlier rain had kept crowds away, so it was
easier for us bonfire Boys to get through. The feeling when
walking down school hill in the crowd of torches to see the sea
of torches all around you is incredible. I became quiet
emotional, and proud to be part of it. Costumes abounded, and I
was this year impressed by the Red Indians (not a PC term I know,
but we are talking a Victorian idea here). Waved to many morris
dancers I saw in the crowd (Morris content!) Then back for a beer
and on to the fire site.
Commercial Square is much smaller than the Cliffe, but with ALL
the Lewes Bonire elements. The fire is lit and the flaming
crosses lit. The Bishop of St. John sub castro then gave his
speech whilst being pelted with fireworks. The words may help
others understand. *I give you the arch traitor, Guy Fawkes, who
tried to kill the King and parliament of this country - what
shall we do with him* Crowd reply *Burn him* and a firework
stuffed effigy goes up in flames. A huge cheer when a mortar
blows the head apart. Then * I give you the pope. He incited
people to take over England, he tried to cause an invasion of our
country. What shall we do with him?* Crowd again *Burn him* And
the same firework fate befalls. The fantastic fireworks display
then started. The effigy was of the Milleniunm Bug, a PC with a
huge insect. Very clever when the screen blew apart to reveal the
letters Y2K.
I have no idea what
Cliffe had yet, but I'm sure Mol will tell us. Then another march
and we set a fire right outside the police Station and let off
the biggest firworks we could find. excellent stuff. People were
jumping the fire. It is now midnight and the crowds have gone
home. It is just Bonfire people. The Bishop, by now completely
plastered , gave another sermon. You need an English sense of
humour really, it was totally tongue in cheek - over the top
xenophobia, and hilariously funny. It started * fellow
Englishmen- is there anybody from Scotland or wales, here?---Well
p*ss off then!' He then took a French apple with a firework
stuffed in it and blew it up, whilst swigging a bottle of french
brandy. Trouble is he forgot to let go- *f*ck * he cries as he
drops it and plunges his fingers in a beer. Then it was God Save
the Queen, Remember Remember, Auld lang Syne and off home, to do
it all again today in Battle!
I can recommend Commercial Square to anybody who want s a true
flavour of Lewes Bonfire without all the crowds you get at
Cliffe. As an aside it might be that I said that in Hastings the
pope bit was cut out in the 1880s, but I would defend the right
of the people of Lewes to continue with it, if that is their
wish. It is down to the individual society, it's their Bonfire,
their custom and their town . As I said bonfire is all about the
freedom of the English people, and like Voltaire I will defend
that right with all the will I have.
Now it must be almost time for mumming plays.....
I don’t think I have ever seen so much water on the streets of Hastings as confronted us mid-afternoon on Bonfire Night – except in cases of an extraordinarily high tide. Nonetheless we persevered to the Angling Club and hoped for the best. By departure time, 4.35(ish) things seemed little better, but the journey west to Lewes brought into view a lightening of the leaden skies and a slackening of the howling wind, and spirits rose in hopes that we might not be drenched after all.
The main thing about Lewes, it seems, is that it has almost as much ‘up-and-down-hill’ in it as Hastings does – but we don’t insist on climbing the lot in one evening! Procession after procession strode round the town, and the walks were interspersed with great lumps of ‘queuing for the bar’ or ‘standing around the torch carts’ behind the Elephant. Eventually, though, we followed the descending path to the firesite to enjoy the spectacle of those lunatics on the scaffold, standing as target for any itinerant No. 2’s (and a few larger!). The fire was well ablaze before the procession assembled on the field of light mud, and after an ‘address’ from the platform, the show began.
In the face of some ridiculous weather earlier in the day (horizontal rain is difficult to treat) and various firing/wiring problems, Commercial Square gave a stunning display, with Guy preceding the Pope in obliteration, and the Y2K Bug bringing up the rear. A scattering of cakes filled the gaps between, and aerial mines made their presence known, choreographing nicely with the mortar bursts. Sadly, the Bug’s sting was delayed until the crowd was moving, and the major ‘PopExplosives’ only detonated after the site was almost clear, but their echoing ‘thwoomp’ seemed to come from all directions at once.
This last was the signal, it seemed, for more walking, and so off we set to the Elephant and a display of fire-walking (and Justin’s nail-stomping exercises) to conclude an evening redolent with the echo of Bangers in the Streets. Remnants of Chinese strings lay everywhere, interspersed with shells from Rookies and the like – and long may it continue.
Linthicum - Maryland USA by Conrad Bladey
Unseasonably warm the day before with slight wind gusts on the day. The sixth loomed upon us with all of its wonder after the night waiting by the fire and praying against the anti bonfire forces of ethnic cleansing. The bottle cap car was the first event of the day. It arrived from Washington D.C. and was covered with metal bottle caps stuck to magnets which in turn were stuck to the truck. A wondrous sight of interlace and geometric design. Party car, head hunter heaven and magnet truck were dressed in their signs for all to see and plastic bunting was stretched across the fence. Bonfire toffee was in its final boiling, the puddings were steaming on their way. The guests arrived and were given a tour of the back yard before the darkness arrived.
1 . The Man Out back- our trusty railway car stove with chimney into which was cut the face of a fierce and bearded man with flames rushing out of the features whipped up by the slight gusts.
2. Guest of honor Milosovic on his way to the tower
3. Then it was on to the Guy mounted on extended tripod sign holder about 20 feet in the air draped in pumpkin lights holding his matches and lantern.
4. Moving on under the grape arbor on the street side we showed the guests their dinner--we walked on it in fact! It was several feet down under the ground in the pit on the hot rocks where it had been placed at 10:30 AM. .... all wondered about it all.... really? What would it taste like....
We readied the snacks
hot peanuts in the shell, pretzels, toffee and pop corn....we
found the wine and the beer....the large aluminum half keg was
hoisted out of the cellar. The night grew dark....the guests were
arriving and the veterans were telling the new ones of stories of
times past.....horror stories of exploding fires and singed
beards and the swat team coming through the fog weapons at the
ready. Despite it all the new ones stayed.
Next we broke into teams of four and were assigned chants/bonfire
prayers which would become the focus of our attention. Two silver
pitchers of beer were tapped out of the keg and were ready. One
half full the other full to the brim.
Group by group each group gave the chants their best efforts. The
leaves on the trees rattled the night was broken open by chants
of remember remember....again though, we had a draw -all did that
well!
Next it was the loudness test. All the chants done at once by
each group at the same time. The earth shook the bells rang the
sticks smacked the ground. Here two winners emerged and were
awarded the pitchers of beer for first and second place. As usual
the beer was handed round as we then all raised our glasses for
the centers own chant.
We next re located to the newly cleared away section of the grape
arbor. The torches were made ready and drained off. Two women
were handed bags of potpourri. They were instructed to toss it on
the crowd which was described as in need of cleansing and a bit
smelly . the sweet scent filled the air. I asked the girls- did
they have any potpourri left...they replied yes we have
some.....I said then continue. Then again I asked and they
replied just a little left sir....I said to continue once again.
At last it had been done and I asked - did they have any
potpourri they replied no they did not. I asked did they have any
potpourri and they replied -
"No...No popery!" No popery at all!
We next spread out and
distributed torches held down....we indicated the presence of 5
gallon buckets of water just in case.... we readied the hose...
The charges as read at the 1605 trial were read and the plot
discussed. One by one the torches were lighted and held on high
We paused for a moment of silence to give thanks for our
deliverance from terror in the year past and for those who have
protected us. The torches were indeed spectacular and lit up the
night sky. The participants all accustomed to electrical effects
wondered.....could it be that they were in a movie.....wow....(no
one ever does live torches here at all to my knowledge.... Again
for the second year running American suburbanites demonstrated
that they could be safe with torches . Additionally no fire
trucks were called it was a grand success....
We then proceeded to the turkey pit where shovel in hand I told
the story of the plot from start to finish. The soil was dry and
easy to work. Quite unlike the leaden wet soil of the last few
years. But there was an air of unseasonability about it..... Not
quite right without the wind and the wet....
The alarm was sounded when the sheet covering the food was
spotted in the dark earth. It was carefully cleaned of dirt and
rolled back. A tense moment came when it was discovered that the
sheet had ripped. All worried about the dirt spilling in upon the
turkey packages . One by one the two steaming half turkey
treasures were taken in. The new participants gathered in the
kitchen to see how it was done. The packages were in good shape
and were not over done. The dirt was brushed off and the greens
were carefully rolled back leaf by leaf. The smell of turkey
filled the house. Steamy and rich. Trays of Yugoslavian food were
brought out to accompany them. One half turkey was of paprika and
red wine vinegar flavored the second and the most wonderful was
the brigid's turkey which had soaked in butter melted in a
combination of hand crafted ale and cider with allspice - this
was wonderful , juicy and quite rich..... The fire was started in
the pit the rocks still hot from the cooking. All filled their
glasses and plates and then it was back for refills. From room to
room I went and toasted the co worker in the preparations who
helped cook the food - the earth mother!-
After dinner the sweets came out....cakes upon cakes, toffee,
Yorkshire parkin, more cakes and a pudding -lecture house
pudding. The spectacle was about to unfold. The boiling water in
the kitchen signalled the finishing of the preparation of the
pudding. We were about to lead in to the Christmas season.
something else to burn.... The dickens passage was found and
given to the librarian friend for reading.... would it come out ?
Out it came! to the chant of "Behold the pudding" all
in a line formed the procession from the kitchen out back. Behold
the pudding..... on the steps out to the back the holly was ready
a sprig was picked full of red berries the line chanted:
"behold the pudding bedecked with holly" over and over
till we reached the bar b que grill out back. The head was
chopped off the guy stove effigy. The carved chimney was knocked
back onto the ground below. Out from the smoke stack came the
free fire. The brandy was heated in a small fry pan . Brandy
ignited it formed a wonderful blue beacon in the night.
"Behold the pudding bedecked with flame!" a tribute to
the bonfire night and a foreshadowing of Christmas to follow....
The pudding was passed along the line from person to person into
the house from the back yard. All then went in to a huge table of
sweets.... then others went back to the recycling of aluminum-
the keg....libations of wine and beer were toasted in the night.
The railroad stove was cranked way up and the fire in the pit had
started popping the rocks....A few of the weaker participants
departed early.....the hard core who remained was in for a secret
treat! We assembled by the keg and then a large bottle of fine
brandy was produced. Glasses all round. Where? We are going
where? Yes I said we are going on top of the mulch pile! A large
6 foot tall mulch pile was found in the drive next to the garden.
The tarp was rolled off and the steam rose up! The rich smell of
grain alcohol and warmth . The party gathered on top of the pile
and scooped out little hollows in which to sit. Some reclined
their bodies fully warmed outside by the heat of the fermenting
green mulch pile the inside warmed by brandy. The music of the
17th century drifted out and there was total wonderment at the
warmth of the mulch pile. Steamy the poor man's sauna! A grand
gathering indeed as the brandy bottle traveled round and
round....and the night faded into dawn.
Prior to lighting the
fire the wood from Hastings was taken from its envelope all
gathered by the fire pit....the letter from Keith Leech was read.
The chared wood was passed around for all to smell of the smoke
of Hastings still captured in it....it was the essence of a grand
fire shipped across the great ocean....
With great celebration the stick was lit and then used to light
he main fire and tossed in....The last of he Hastings fire was
finally consumed all be it on another shore!
Another successful bonfire night. To be remembered and
remembered. I leave you all with that report as I go out to do my
duty to recycle the aluminum keg out back.... I shall switch on
some appropriate music and take a view of life through the amber
of the beer as I start to think of the bonfire of next year and
the task of finding another huge mulch pile - because now it was
part of tradition!
Barely had we returned from Lewes, it seemed, than it was time to travel to Battle, and fight our way into the Kings Head. Drumming echoed along Mount Street, and again at assembly behind Market Place, this time accompanied by a lone Piper, before the procession set off for the first staging point on the Abbey Green. Cracks and bangs reverberated from the ancient building as a fire blazed on the cobble hearth, casting flickering shadows across the Gatehouse, and more than one alarm was triggered by the vibrations from drum and squib.
Some ‘discussion’ had arisen regarding the desired and permitted routes, and the unwonted constraints were eloquently answered with a resounding array of mortars arcing across the crowd. The volley discharge, from some concealed location, caused consternation amongst the Constabulary, who may yet be seeking the source! The gesture was met with unrestrained applause from the assembled throng, although it seems one resident was a little ‘surprised’.
Setting off again for the top of High Street and the final leg back down to Powdermill Lane, the throb of beaten skins brought smiles to the crowd (and set off yet more alarms), whilst fuses sparked on the street and across the fields of the Battle-ground. Hastings Banner spouted candlefire and lance-flame as we approached the Star Wars effigy and the ‘normus gert bonfire’. The pyre was soon well ablaze and attention turned to the firing site, where a crescendo of whirling bangs clad in white fire opened the account.
Screaming shells and coloured fire spread across the moonless sky whilst the retort of aerial mines punctuated the night, whilst the giant Catherine wheel span dizzyingly to one side. A cheer was roused for the brave lads who approached a mis-fired Darth Maul to touch flame to fuse (or twist wire to wire, as it may be) and kick-start the blaze of flame and sparks – a certain young Guy was observed practising his now-famous ‘worried look’. The closing mortars spread far and wide, and we turned again to the glowing pile to concentrate on more rookies, before retiring through a maze of paths and passages to the High Street and crowded hostelries.
The Town continued to buzz for the remainder of the evening. Battle once again has distilled the essence of Bonfire to a heady brew to be shared amongst those fortunates involved, and struck a blow in favour of Bonfire freedom to boot.
Everyone was in high spirits, or it could have been the alcohol, as we set off to Battle as the skyes were clear and there was a good turnout of HBBS members. Even the walking (or hobbling) wounded were there sporting injuries from the previous night at Lewes. The evening started unpredictably in the pub where HBBS drummers had the street rocking to the sound of their drumbeats. We then gathered in the Market Square for the procession and the distribution of the few, but tree-trunk sized torches. There was an impromptu firework display on the Green when a large number of "rockets" were launched from a private garden (I can say in all honesty I never saw any "rockets"). Then on to the spectacular firework display and an effigy depicting Star Wars character (my sources tell me it was Darth Maul) which was somewhat reluctant to explode. Shane's banner went with a bang though as there was the added extra of a few fireworks. And finally it was, unpredictably, back to the pub and a sing-a-long with some other bonfire societies and even some "chandelier acrobats".
East Hoathly & Halland 1999 By Pete Welch
The traditional seasonal clash with Rye Bonfire having been prevented by the Authorities this year (‘every cloud…’ as they say), the opportunity to attend the celebrations as guests of East Hoathly And Halland Bonfire Society was too good to miss, and so the usual crew rendezvoused for pre-transit refreshments in the club. The forecast was fine, and spirits were high as we pulled up outside the pub to be greeted with the delicate aroma of torches and the strain of bagpipes on the night air.
Processions wound into the night and back again (with a steady but noticeable increase in the amount of ‘winding’ perpetrated by some!), banner torches were sourced and the crack of rookies grew in frequency. The final walk led us eventually onto the fire-site, where the pyre was already well ablaze and casting a welcoming glow (and a pall of smoke) across the field. Much socialising with friends old and new ensued, until a barrage of white-fire bangs announced the start of the display.
The next several minutes (or so it seemed) were filled to bursting with coloured sparks and echoing salvos. Rumours of ‘a thousand mortars in one minute’ had been spreading for days, and whilst keeping count would have been beyond the scope of mortal man (especially at that time of night), or at least those of us in the best seats, the record would be hard to dispute. Banks and volleys sped skywards in unceasing fusillade, interspersed with almost a minute of white screamers and flights of rockets like winter geese.
All too soon however the show concluded, with a lovely selection of high, and almost simultaneous, bursts, and we turned again to the glowing heap of embers to close the evening. One or two ‘mini fires’ were built from torch remains and scrapwood, and a mellow atmosphere embraced us all. Whilst local loyalties are likely to prevail in coming years where the dates again conflict, the East Hoathly show is one which can be highly recommended.
Despite the best efforts of certain ‘officialdom’ to price the celebrations out of the market with extortionate demands for road closure costs, the timely intervention of the local MP enabled Rye Bonfire Society to hold their "Better Late than Never" a fortnight after the scheduled date, and Friday 26th November 1999 saw the erection of a huge bonfire on the Salts. Sadly, work commitments prevented personal involvement in this for the first time in years, but Saturday dawned bright and, well, earlyish, with access to the torch wagon and in due course the loading of the flammable sticks.
As ever, this process involves parking carefully on the lethal bend by ‘Grandad’s Garden’, with all the dodging of high-speed traffic that that entails. The usual suspects (i.e., David, Adrian and your humble reporter) filled the wagon almost to bursting, yet careful stacking left a mere two square feet of space at the rear to carry ‘additional items’, and we returned to the firesite to block part of the field for the rest of the day.
Stakes and ropes were moved, lunch was consumed, scraps were cleared up (thanks for the chips, lads!) and make-up time arrived – completed in the truck cab with the aid of a plastic cup full of water and the wing-mirror. Further supplies for the evening were purchased, and we set off for Tilling Green and the assembly point. Gradually, groups of processors gathered in the glow of the street lights, greetings were exchanged, and the pile of torches laid at the road-side rapidly dwindled. We topped this up before departing ahead of the procession to the next torching point, only to be greeted by the Bobby on duty with ‘You can’t park that there here, yer blockin’ the road!’. It seems that Road Closure was not to take effect until the procession set off!
Fortunately, this was not long delayed, and we were able to take post in readiness for the approaching throng. Torchlight flickered through the streets of Rye, drum beats echoed the length of the town, and the torch supplies were handed out in a frenzy to the demanding marchers. As ever, the glory of the procession was lost on the workers in the wagon, but swiftly we had refuelled the Societies and were off again to the last, revised, torching point on Strand Quay, only to be questioned (again) on our entitlement to be there – this time because we were driving along a closed road!!
The remaining torches were distributed before, clear now for the evening, we set off to park up and enjoy the show. Strangely, this year around 15 torches too many had been made, and remained in the back of the truck. Diverting to deliver the first contents of Jimper’s collection bucket to the Legion, and finally arriving on site in time to suggest in a loud voice that the celebrity be dropped (the bearers took no notice, or at least no action!), it was a pleasure to observe the raising of the effigy – a certain Inspector who was destined, in due course, to disintegrate in a significant explosion – nice one, Adrian!
The fire blazed furnace hot, scorching and then burning the grass around, and the crowd took refuge at some distance to watch the display. A wide variety of mortars, rockets and aerial mines culminated in the now-famous 16 Incher, and another Rye Fawkes Night drew to a close around the glowing heap of embers. Not being fast enough on your feet often leads to involvement in extra tasks, and so it was that a final tour of the town collecting used torches was completed, before a swift pint in the Bedford and an impromptu drumming session concluded another glorious evening. Congratulations to RBS for a damn’ good night in the teeth of adversity!
This page was last updated on Saturday July 10, 2004
