All (but especially Cowlers)
“Well, you hate to watch another tired man lay down his hand, like he was giving up the Holy Game of Poker. And while he talks his dreams to sleep, you notice there's a highway that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder…”
I thought by now that the Hookey match report would be in, so could this email be considered a kind of addenda or points to be added to the report when published, etc:
“The last man standing(ish)” - Can I claim the mantle of being the last to attend at Hookey and failing the time trials? The “Peter Mullins Straggler” award (1.50pm on Saturday in the Beer Tent, it must be a record).
“Captain, my captain” – early on Saturday afternoon, I was asked by some very friendly brummies “is your captain here?” I worked out that they meant Steve, which is fair enough as he has “the sneer of cold command” and he wears a beany! But, if he‘s captain, can I be the Sgt of the Hurlers as the uncle I was named after was a Sgt Major during WW2 (and my forename has been a cross that I’ve had to bear ever since). The brummies, as did others, also asked about us doing a pyramid...see below.
“Future Hurlers – the next generation” – Having dragged myself away from the mosh pit (see link below) for a break at about 11pm, two young women approached me asked me about joining the “hurlers”. I told them about the “6 pints”, “long and proud history”, etc and they were still keen, so for next year, it’s a possible chance at world domination and to possibly flog some t shirts. I suppose if we are looking at the “next generation” does that make Steve, our Captain Kirk, our very own William Shatner!
Bands - It was one of the liveliest sets of bands that I‘ve seen at Hookey and one the liveliest/nicest mosh pits, I’ve ever been catapulted into– “Man make fire” and “pencil face” (last two bands for the record). For the confused – for “Mosh pit” – see wiki link below, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moshing
Football, Glastonbury and facilities – Firstly - no footy!! In this World Cup year and with only four of us (Cap’n Steve, Tom, Pedz and I) it was not enough, so we need to improve numbers - “buy in” players a la Citeh? Therefore, with too few numbers for footy or aunt sally and so much to see and do in the festival site itself, we didn’t leave the site all day on Saturday, so Hookey is in danger (a joyous or scary possibility) of turning into a mini Glasto though thankfully without the unisex showers and eco toilets. For me, I still bear the psychiatric scars from festivals in the 80s and 90s, sharing facilities with the crusties, apart from that joyous “summer of love” in 1989 – Inspiral carpets, The Mondays and The Roses – what a summer, what a set of gigs – I can still taste the brownies and my baggy dayglo t-shirt is still in my wardrobe.
No pyramid – again like the Footy with only four of us, not enough and we were asked if we were going to build one….previous comments refer and see “captain, my captain” comments, above.
“Slippery Slope” moment/dilemma - After the “Rubicon crossing” moment of having taken our children along for the last two years and her (my other half) hearing about the young women wanting to join the hurlers, my other half now wants to go….hmmm…. We better start work on a game plan to prevent the one weekend that I have away from the fruit of my loins and the love of my life becoming just another family weekend….help!
Mushy pea fritters – one of my personal highlights – they ran out early this year – just an observation.
Beers – good and larger selection (included for us soft southern lager drinking jessies) and some rather nice milds and a separate cider stall. Note: The beer did not run out until about 10.45pm….hurrah!!
World Cup Hurlers Sweep - Les won the award, having picked the Spanish (see attached), muy bien…
Robert Green and The World Cup – leave it out…enough said.
Jude – still lovely, still unhappy and now divorced (and a Deputy Head teacher)…the Marlene Dietrich (or is it Marianne Faithful) of the Hurlers on tour…I’ll compose a Shelley like sonnet or a dark verse a la Baudelaire later in the week, if time permits and the muse visits.
1st Hurlers cap – Tom Priest – a good debut – he held his own and others (pints), when asked – “well played, that man”.
Weather – good most of the day Saturday - sunny spells, etc, and all that bollix and very overcast (grey) on Sunday morning
Next year – three key points - bigger numbers/more bodies (a priority) – the site and the range of beers keeps getting better (a positive) – The Bell (Aunt Sally) not what it was (sad and a mild negative).
Summary – a very good hookey, but nowhere near the best (in my view), as too many friends were absent or had to leave early and if we’d had a full contingent, it would have been a huge ball of disco and beer flavored fudge with Football and Aunt Sally topping, so all of you who were “missing in action” try and make it next year so we can have it large!!. I’ll bring my fondue set, Cheers or Hasta la vista, as we say in Green Street, Darce
PS – BTW - I am not having a pop about anyone not attending, my fear is that next year I’ll be at Latitude with “the boss” and my children or more scarily at Hookey itself with the aforementioned….
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
2010 - The UnFestival
At technical conferences like Oracle OpenWorld, it has become fashionable to run 'Unconferences' where people stand up and talk about the detailed innards of the Oracle log buffer mechanism. A deliberate contrast from corporate marketing and death by Powerpoint.
Due to a late breaking family commitment, I was forced to attend Hook Norton on Thursday and Friday this year. This had the benefit of missing the crowds but the minor disadvantage of missing the actual beer festival on Saturday.
I checked in to the Bed & Breakfast above the Pear Tree which comes highly recommended - free WiFi, colour TV, shower, toilet and excellent full English breakfast and all possible flavours of Hook until you choose to turn in - around 9pm in my case.
On Friday, I was joined by Steve, his lad Tom (making his Hookie debut) and Peter. Wheeldon appeared with surprise guest Thompson and Bill glided in from somewhere towing an expensive caravan, he'd acquired from Keenan. Canny Scot Bill managed to negotiate a discount for the odd odour emanating from the chemical toilet.
I managed to escape helping Steve's gang erect their deluxe awning by telling my mate, Allan the landlord, that I'd gone for a 18 mile country walk to Banbury whereas in truth I was watching the golf upstairs in my penthouse suite.
Thompson explained his 12 year absence by telling us he'd been busy trying to secure the title of 'Professor' and failing; he's still just a 'Senior Lecturer' at Oxford University stuggling to solve the external GHS conundrum: 'Why the fuck did we all go to Stevenage ?'
Steve had brought lots of food - well bread, peanut butter and bananas. This was bad news for Tom who doesn't like bananas or peanut butter.
Had a couple in the Pear Tree, played Aunt Sally in The Bell where, inevitably, we were accosted by locals who threw one stick, missed and promptly diaappeared without even standing their round.
On to the Sun for another pint and back to The Pear Tree where the stalwarts cranked out of version of the Socialist anthem 'The Rights of Man' before a local advised us that the loud volume might prejudice any potential 'lock-in' so we all adjourned to Steve's VM Dormobile which, inevitably, is pale blue.
Steve got out his acoustic guitar. Young Tom turned rather green but thankfully recovered to produce a moving cover version of Nirvana's 'Come As You Are'.
The next morning dawned sunny and bright. The Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales was now just hours away. A year of waiting and expectation was finally over.
Let the laughter begin.
And that's when I had to leave.
Due to a late breaking family commitment, I was forced to attend Hook Norton on Thursday and Friday this year. This had the benefit of missing the crowds but the minor disadvantage of missing the actual beer festival on Saturday.
I checked in to the Bed & Breakfast above the Pear Tree which comes highly recommended - free WiFi, colour TV, shower, toilet and excellent full English breakfast and all possible flavours of Hook until you choose to turn in - around 9pm in my case.
On Friday, I was joined by Steve, his lad Tom (making his Hookie debut) and Peter. Wheeldon appeared with surprise guest Thompson and Bill glided in from somewhere towing an expensive caravan, he'd acquired from Keenan. Canny Scot Bill managed to negotiate a discount for the odd odour emanating from the chemical toilet.
I managed to escape helping Steve's gang erect their deluxe awning by telling my mate, Allan the landlord, that I'd gone for a 18 mile country walk to Banbury whereas in truth I was watching the golf upstairs in my penthouse suite.
Thompson explained his 12 year absence by telling us he'd been busy trying to secure the title of 'Professor' and failing; he's still just a 'Senior Lecturer' at Oxford University stuggling to solve the external GHS conundrum: 'Why the fuck did we all go to Stevenage ?'
Steve had brought lots of food - well bread, peanut butter and bananas. This was bad news for Tom who doesn't like bananas or peanut butter.
Had a couple in the Pear Tree, played Aunt Sally in The Bell where, inevitably, we were accosted by locals who threw one stick, missed and promptly diaappeared without even standing their round.
On to the Sun for another pint and back to The Pear Tree where the stalwarts cranked out of version of the Socialist anthem 'The Rights of Man' before a local advised us that the loud volume might prejudice any potential 'lock-in' so we all adjourned to Steve's VM Dormobile which, inevitably, is pale blue.
Steve got out his acoustic guitar. Young Tom turned rather green but thankfully recovered to produce a moving cover version of Nirvana's 'Come As You Are'.
The next morning dawned sunny and bright. The Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales was now just hours away. A year of waiting and expectation was finally over.
Let the laughter begin.
And that's when I had to leave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)