The weekly weigh-in: I’ve lost two more
pounds. This makes a loss of twelve pounds since I started with MyFitnessPal. And whilst I’m encouraged by this, the sad
fact remains that I need to lose another thirty three pounds (over two stone) to just be overweight.
Realistically I’m going to be on this diet and exercise lark for a year if I’m
only going to get to the top end of what my weight should be.
The morning’s post brought a letter from
English Heritage. Regular readers of this drivel will remember that two weeks
ago today, me and ‘er indoors TM were locked into the grounds
of Old Wardour Castle. Today the manager of English Heritage (South West) wrote to tell me that he
reason we got locked in was that they didn’t check to see that everyone was out
of the place. Dur!!!
With the tribes gathered we set off to
Battle. Having been to the Abbey earlier in the year, we’d heard about the
re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings, so we went along to watch it. In retrospect
I think it’s fair to say that I underestimated the popularity of the event: we
got within half a mile of Battle, and were stuck in a traffic jam for an hour
before we were able to park.
Once parked we made our way to the arena at
Battle Abbey, and having met up with the Brighton contingent we staked out an
area from which we could watch the activities. We had arrived a tad late to see
the skirmish (!), but we got to see
the archery demonstration. A Genghis Khan lookalike, some bloke in a yellow
frock, and six other weirdoes took pot-shots at a plastic pig. I cheered for
the pig, mainly because the archers couldn’t hit the thing.
And then the re-enactment of the battle of
Hastings took place. I cheered for the Normans, if only because I knew my history,
and I knew who would win anyway. And to cut an extremely long and tedious story
short, the Normans won. I think it’s fair to say that if the public address
system had actually worked, and had the battle re-enactment been staged so that
we could have seen more than just the backs of the Saxon side, then it might
have been worthwhile.
However the public address system was
inaudible, and all we could see was the backs of the Saxon side, and so the
hour of the re-enactment was extremely dull. The last five minutes was
entertaining enough when the Normans slaughtered the Saxons right in front of
us; if only for the cries for a first aider to come to the aid of one of the
actors who’d got a boo-boo.
If nothing else, the afternoon was worthwhile
for getting some photos for CrackWatch.
After the battle seemed to be done, we had a
wander wound some of the Abbey before making our way back to the cars. Getting
out of the car park was a bit tricky, but we (and thousands of normal people) eventually managed it despite,
rather than thanks to, the efforts of the English Heritage staff.
Once out, we made for Hastings, and having
parked in Dudley Road (A lot closer to
the town than I was expecting), we made our way to the Old Town. As luck
would have it, the first pub we came to was the F.I.L.O., and so we popped in for a crafty
half. They had a new beer on the hand pump – “Churches” – their own pale ale. A pint of that went down nicely.
And we adjourned to their patio area to find a beer festival in full flow, so
we had another pint there.
By now we were peckish, and so having
obtained the obligatory flashing rabbit ears, we queued up for half an hour for
some chips. For all that it is a traditional seaside town, Hastings doesn’t
have many chip shops. Whilst queuing we met up with the rest of our party as
well as some old friends, and then made our way to Winkle Island to watch the
procession. And there we met family. And my mobile phone wouldn’t stop – texts and
calls asking where we were. And then asking where on Earth is Winkle Island. How could
anyone not know where Winkle Island is?
The bonfire procession passed, and I looked
for friends who turned out not to be in the procession. And with an hour until
the fireworks went off, the suggestion was made that we might visit the Dolphin
to see what beer was on.
Three pints of HopHead later we wandered down
to watch the fireworks. The fireworks were spectacular; the toilet
facilities were feral. I’d never seen anything like it – you just stood and
pissed into a trough whilst passers-by cheered.
And on the way home I met up with an old
mucker I’ve not seen for years. Happy days….
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