I like beer, so much so that I have devoted many happy hours to researching the subject. I make my own beer in my garage with the help of a stainless-steel Baby Burco wash boiler and a selection of polythene containers from various sources.
Yesterday evening, for the first time, I inflicted one of my beers on a group of friends and it met with a good reception. This is unlike solicting the opinion of the occasional visitor to the house who is compelled to be complimentary out of politeness. That beer was a well-hopped pale ale in the style of and India Pale Ale. I wasn't trying to emulate a particular brand but intended producing my best emulation of the style. I have produced other beer styles and the barrel currently tapped in my garage contains a mixture of a well-aged stout and a fresher and younger traditional bitter. It is delicious since the aging process imbued the stout with a slight sourness which by itself would not be palatable but is complemented by the other flavours.
So a reflection on the phenomenon of sour beers, aging and blending follows.
Lambics are beers which are reputedy fermented by airbone yeast which blows into the brewery from nearby fields in Belgium. (But according so some sources this is not so and the yeast is selected and added to the hopped wort as is usual in every other brewery).
Lambic beers are left open to the air for many weeks so that they intentionally go flat and sour. Then they are sweetened for potability by the addition of fruit syrups such as cherry and strawberry. This is remembered in England when a pub-goer orders a lager and lime.
A flat and sour beer can also be sweetened by the addition of a fresh and young beer Sometimes the result is called a "gueuze". The technique is used to make Newcastle Brown Ale and Guinness which are called "vatted" ales, a name which refers to their being stored and blended in vats.
Years ago a pubgoer might order the barman to blend a half-pint of "Old Ale" with the contents of another barrel further down the bar containg a fresher and cheaper beer. This is remembered in English pubs when a half pint of draught bitter is topped up with a bottle of pale ale. From my observations this is very much a London and Essex phenomenon today.
Elsewhere a "Black and Tan" is sometimes ordered, a half pint of Guinness blended with another half pint of draught bitter. For those drinkers who are unused to the unique attributes of raw and unlaced Guinness, this is a good way to acquire the taste.
The expression "Black and Tan" also refers to the mixed security forces of black-uniformed Police and brown-uniformed Army personnel that operated in Ireland during the struggle for political independance. Use tact when dicussing this in the company of Irish nationals. The behaviour of the Black and Tans made them generally unpopular in Ireland and they are not remembered fondly.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Why men can read maps and women remember birthdays
I'm back on the subject of evolution. The modern society in which I live traces its roots to the societies similar to those we see depicted on natural history programs about New Guinea and Borneo and the Amazon. In these societes we see the men living in the long hut at the end of the village while the women and children occupy a scattering of huts nearby.
When a young man is born into this society, he lives in one of the scattering of huts where he is nursed and tended for by his mother and grandmother and aunties and older sisters. As he grows and matures he seeks the company of older boys and men and gravitates towards the long hut at the end of the village and the company of the older boys and men.
In their company he learns to tell tall stories, to smoke and drink and most crucially for my point, he learns how to find his way through the jungle to where the fat monkeys are. As soon as he can be trusted to join the hunt he and the older boys and the men set off through the jungle find the fat monkeys and return to village in triumph with the trophies of the hunt. The boy has become a man.
As young men do, the boy inevitably begins to notice the presence of females in his village and becomes fascinated by them. At this time he defers to the guidance of his mother, grandmother, aunties and sisters for advice on how to assuage his curiosity. Here he is advised which of the young women of the village are suitable objects for his affection and which young women should be left alone, such as his sisters, aunties and cousins. Again, my point being that this role requires the women of the village to acquire and retain this knowledge for the good of the tribe.
Following the advice of his mother, grandmothers, aunties and sisters the young man acquires his spouse and under the diretion of the tribe moves right to the edge of the village and builds a home or himself and his wife. Well out of earshot from the rest of the village the new family gets busy with raising the next generation. As the children inevitably arrive the mother is joined by the grandmother and an aunty or two. The young man find his appetite for female company starts to wane and he recalls fondly the sociable atmosphere of the long hut at the and of the village. So he spends more and more time at the long hut swapping tall tales with his peers, smoking and teaching the younger men the way to where the fat monkeys live. The circle is complete.
Which is why women remember birthdays and relationships and who is going out with (or married to or broken up with) whom, and why men have no trouble with directions. It's an evolutionary imperative.
When a young man is born into this society, he lives in one of the scattering of huts where he is nursed and tended for by his mother and grandmother and aunties and older sisters. As he grows and matures he seeks the company of older boys and men and gravitates towards the long hut at the end of the village and the company of the older boys and men.
In their company he learns to tell tall stories, to smoke and drink and most crucially for my point, he learns how to find his way through the jungle to where the fat monkeys are. As soon as he can be trusted to join the hunt he and the older boys and the men set off through the jungle find the fat monkeys and return to village in triumph with the trophies of the hunt. The boy has become a man.
As young men do, the boy inevitably begins to notice the presence of females in his village and becomes fascinated by them. At this time he defers to the guidance of his mother, grandmother, aunties and sisters for advice on how to assuage his curiosity. Here he is advised which of the young women of the village are suitable objects for his affection and which young women should be left alone, such as his sisters, aunties and cousins. Again, my point being that this role requires the women of the village to acquire and retain this knowledge for the good of the tribe.
Following the advice of his mother, grandmothers, aunties and sisters the young man acquires his spouse and under the diretion of the tribe moves right to the edge of the village and builds a home or himself and his wife. Well out of earshot from the rest of the village the new family gets busy with raising the next generation. As the children inevitably arrive the mother is joined by the grandmother and an aunty or two. The young man find his appetite for female company starts to wane and he recalls fondly the sociable atmosphere of the long hut at the and of the village. So he spends more and more time at the long hut swapping tall tales with his peers, smoking and teaching the younger men the way to where the fat monkeys live. The circle is complete.
Which is why women remember birthdays and relationships and who is going out with (or married to or broken up with) whom, and why men have no trouble with directions. It's an evolutionary imperative.
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Side order of social phobia and anxiety, thanks
I find that whatever this thing that ails me comes with side orders. That is to say, along with the crushingly low self esteem and self-destructive urges this affliction overflows into social phobia and anxiety. This is worrying me this weekend because a bunch of my friends are meeting up in a hotel to renew acquaintances and have a few drinks. I could have gone but chose not to. A month ago it was the same story with a housewarming party and a week ago with another house party. I passed on all these despite them being attended by lovely people. I'm sure that If I had gone I would have enjoyed myself and had a good time but my fear of going anywhere or meeting anyone holds me back.
So, am I turning into some sort of recluse? Will I be one of those basket cases you see wandering down the street shouting to myself? Will the local kids avoid walking past my house because of the strange old man who lives there (me). This seems like a bad way to end my days.
But please don't worry about me. Time is passing and with each day, well nearly each day, I can feel myself healing over and getting stronger. Maybe its the medication, but it feels like a natural recovery from the piss-poor state I had got myself into. I'm even starting to consider for the emotional battering of applying for jobs again. I'm sure the feeling of winning a job would buoy me up but I'm still not sure if I'm strong enough to shrug off the hundreds of offhand rejections I will have to endure.
So, am I turning into some sort of recluse? Will I be one of those basket cases you see wandering down the street shouting to myself? Will the local kids avoid walking past my house because of the strange old man who lives there (me). This seems like a bad way to end my days.
But please don't worry about me. Time is passing and with each day, well nearly each day, I can feel myself healing over and getting stronger. Maybe its the medication, but it feels like a natural recovery from the piss-poor state I had got myself into. I'm even starting to consider for the emotional battering of applying for jobs again. I'm sure the feeling of winning a job would buoy me up but I'm still not sure if I'm strong enough to shrug off the hundreds of offhand rejections I will have to endure.
Friday, 18 September 2009
North Wales Traffic Police
It was on the A55, somewhere around Abergele and I was tanking along. It was getting on for seven in the morning and I'd been riding since about four am. I was on the way to catch the ferry from Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire. The weather had finally cleared and the bright dry day promised a lot more than the foggy frosty dawn that had greeted me. The traffic was light, the bike felt good so I was letting the bike do the work while enjoyed the pace, and the weather and the view.
I was in the habit of looking over my left shoulder as I passed the end of a filter lane. This was IAM training, checking all potential hazards and blind spots. On this occasion I saw one of those Volvo estates with the blue and yellow paint jobs. "Oh dear" I thought. "I'll bet he wants to have a word with me".
So I wound down the revs and started looking for a pulling-in place. I came across one fairly quickly so I signalled, shoulder checked, lane changed and pulled in. The copper pulled up behind me with his lights flashing.
"I expect you have some idea why I pulled you over" he said. This is the standard opening apparently. You're supposed to admit to some offense with your reply at which point you are banged to rights. I tried for a puzzled shrug. I should also explain that by this point I had removed my crash helmet and revealed myself to be a fat, balding grey-haired bloke and perhaps not the spotty long-haired tearway the copper might have been expecting.
"I can't fault you on your riding" he said. "You saw me straight away and pulled over sensibly". Having congratulated me on my riding skills, he went on to apologise. "We had a fatality over the weekend so we've got to be seen to be doing something".
Then he tried to engage me on the subject of driving behaviour more generally. "Are you in a hurry to get to the ferry?" he asked. "Nope" I replied. "I'm just enjoying the ride". He knew the distance to the ferryport to the nearest hundred yards, and when it was due to leave. If I'd tried to make a point of the importance of my trip he was ready to explain how I'd have time to spare if I confined myself to 30 mph for the rest of my journey. I didn't want to give him to opportunity for the roadside safety leture nor the impromptu roadside vehicle inspection. Both of these would certainly detain me past the ferry's departure time.
The copper explained to me that by using his "Vascar" device he had timed my progress between two points and measured my speed at ninety four point eight miles per hour.
"Of course, if you'd been going at ninety-five miles an hour or more, I'd have to send you to court for four penalty points and a big fine. Will you accept a fixed penalty notice with a three-point penalty and a sixty pound fine? Good. Sign here".
As I rode on to catch the ferry the copper's compliments regarding my riding and apology for having to be seen booking someone went round and round in my head. I wasn't particularly peeved about the event since I'd been caught breaking the speed limit and would pay the penalty. Today was just my turn that's all.
But I pitied that copper for having been told to go out and to be seen nicking some motorcylists. It ws apparent to me he didn't want to be doing what he was doing and the image of his finger hovering over the Vascar unit while my speed reduced to below the incriminating ninety five miles per hour is still with me today.
I was in the habit of looking over my left shoulder as I passed the end of a filter lane. This was IAM training, checking all potential hazards and blind spots. On this occasion I saw one of those Volvo estates with the blue and yellow paint jobs. "Oh dear" I thought. "I'll bet he wants to have a word with me".
So I wound down the revs and started looking for a pulling-in place. I came across one fairly quickly so I signalled, shoulder checked, lane changed and pulled in. The copper pulled up behind me with his lights flashing.
"I expect you have some idea why I pulled you over" he said. This is the standard opening apparently. You're supposed to admit to some offense with your reply at which point you are banged to rights. I tried for a puzzled shrug. I should also explain that by this point I had removed my crash helmet and revealed myself to be a fat, balding grey-haired bloke and perhaps not the spotty long-haired tearway the copper might have been expecting.
"I can't fault you on your riding" he said. "You saw me straight away and pulled over sensibly". Having congratulated me on my riding skills, he went on to apologise. "We had a fatality over the weekend so we've got to be seen to be doing something".
Then he tried to engage me on the subject of driving behaviour more generally. "Are you in a hurry to get to the ferry?" he asked. "Nope" I replied. "I'm just enjoying the ride". He knew the distance to the ferryport to the nearest hundred yards, and when it was due to leave. If I'd tried to make a point of the importance of my trip he was ready to explain how I'd have time to spare if I confined myself to 30 mph for the rest of my journey. I didn't want to give him to opportunity for the roadside safety leture nor the impromptu roadside vehicle inspection. Both of these would certainly detain me past the ferry's departure time.
The copper explained to me that by using his "Vascar" device he had timed my progress between two points and measured my speed at ninety four point eight miles per hour.
"Of course, if you'd been going at ninety-five miles an hour or more, I'd have to send you to court for four penalty points and a big fine. Will you accept a fixed penalty notice with a three-point penalty and a sixty pound fine? Good. Sign here".
As I rode on to catch the ferry the copper's compliments regarding my riding and apology for having to be seen booking someone went round and round in my head. I wasn't particularly peeved about the event since I'd been caught breaking the speed limit and would pay the penalty. Today was just my turn that's all.
But I pitied that copper for having been told to go out and to be seen nicking some motorcylists. It ws apparent to me he didn't want to be doing what he was doing and the image of his finger hovering over the Vascar unit while my speed reduced to below the incriminating ninety five miles per hour is still with me today.
Monday, 17 August 2009
I've spent the last few weeks in an acute depression. I've sought treatment and the wheels are in motion to make me happy and well again. But I've found myself in the same frame of mind as the man who has tooth ache or sea sickness. The sufferer imagines himself to be the most miserable person in the world and can see no end to the misery. Nobody else has ever been this miserable or can comprehend the depths to which the sufferer is suffering. But it's not the experience of depression that I want to discuss. Others have done that with much greater effect than I ever could.
Sally Brampton in her excellent memoir "Shoot the Damn Dog" records the observation that drugs help with the disease but only therapy can effect a cure. Well I reckon I've struggled manfully with my condition for at least twenty years and I don't intend to suffer with it for another twenty. I need to find a cure.
I've spent many weeks mulling over this defective frame of mind I call depression. I think I regarded it as a weakness in my character and would beat myself up about not being a better person, not being able to strengthen that part of me. As a result I got more depressed. This sets up a nasty little positive feedback loop in my mind and I am worse off. (I studied a topic called "Engineering Systems" for my degree and I know a bit about feedback loops, or at least enough to speak with some authority on the subject). My weeks of mulling have not been in vain because I have developed an insight into the affliction which I'm going to share.
Contrary to my thoughts on the subject, modern opinion tells us to regard depression as an illness. Generally an illnesss has symptoms which the professionals love to list and group and present their findings. Many of these end up in the World Wide Web along with helpful questionaires and case studies. Drawing on these resources I find I suffer from "atypical depression" which distinguishes itself from "melancholic depression" by the "heaviness of limbs" and "lack of energy". Overeating is also a dead give away and certainly in my case accounts for the heaviness of my limbs and my lack of energy. But one of the good things about a formally-defined illness is the availabilty of formally-defined cures. For the above administer SSRI or MAOI for six to twelve months and that's that.
So I'm thinking about this illness and part of me still wants to insist it's all down to me (which it is). This illness isn't a bacterium or a virus, it comes about because something goes wrong in the head and the inside of my head is definitely my department. I'm the only one in there and I should be able to look after it.
The trouble is I'm back to beating myself up over this self-inflicted injury I keep moaning about. Unlike sunburn, a self inflicted injury that is easy to avoid, my self inflicted injury came about because I don't know how to handle stress properly. It's like a repetitive strain injury or a hernia, both of which are "respectable" injuries brought about by hard work and not enough workplace support or training in how to deal with everyday stress.
I call them "respectable" injuries or illnesses using a tone of irony. Depression, like many other mental illnesses seems not to be regarded as a real disease or illness or injury. As in my case, outlined above.
Now I think I'm onto a good analogy here. Depression is like an RSI or hernia. Both can be treated with drugs to alleviate the painful effects but also require some training and support in place to prevent their recurrence. The same is true for depression. SSRI and MAOI can take away the pain but we require some expert help in developing strategies for keeping it away forever, which is where the therapy comes in.
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, about which I know very little, offers the means to provide the skills to deal with the causes of depression so that like a correctly-seated keyboard user or a properly-postured lifter of boxes the recurrence of the injury will be averted for ever. At least I hope so.
Sally Brampton in her excellent memoir "Shoot the Damn Dog" records the observation that drugs help with the disease but only therapy can effect a cure. Well I reckon I've struggled manfully with my condition for at least twenty years and I don't intend to suffer with it for another twenty. I need to find a cure.
I've spent many weeks mulling over this defective frame of mind I call depression. I think I regarded it as a weakness in my character and would beat myself up about not being a better person, not being able to strengthen that part of me. As a result I got more depressed. This sets up a nasty little positive feedback loop in my mind and I am worse off. (I studied a topic called "Engineering Systems" for my degree and I know a bit about feedback loops, or at least enough to speak with some authority on the subject). My weeks of mulling have not been in vain because I have developed an insight into the affliction which I'm going to share.
Contrary to my thoughts on the subject, modern opinion tells us to regard depression as an illness. Generally an illnesss has symptoms which the professionals love to list and group and present their findings. Many of these end up in the World Wide Web along with helpful questionaires and case studies. Drawing on these resources I find I suffer from "atypical depression" which distinguishes itself from "melancholic depression" by the "heaviness of limbs" and "lack of energy". Overeating is also a dead give away and certainly in my case accounts for the heaviness of my limbs and my lack of energy. But one of the good things about a formally-defined illness is the availabilty of formally-defined cures. For the above administer SSRI or MAOI for six to twelve months and that's that.
So I'm thinking about this illness and part of me still wants to insist it's all down to me (which it is). This illness isn't a bacterium or a virus, it comes about because something goes wrong in the head and the inside of my head is definitely my department. I'm the only one in there and I should be able to look after it.
The trouble is I'm back to beating myself up over this self-inflicted injury I keep moaning about. Unlike sunburn, a self inflicted injury that is easy to avoid, my self inflicted injury came about because I don't know how to handle stress properly. It's like a repetitive strain injury or a hernia, both of which are "respectable" injuries brought about by hard work and not enough workplace support or training in how to deal with everyday stress.
I call them "respectable" injuries or illnesses using a tone of irony. Depression, like many other mental illnesses seems not to be regarded as a real disease or illness or injury. As in my case, outlined above.
Now I think I'm onto a good analogy here. Depression is like an RSI or hernia. Both can be treated with drugs to alleviate the painful effects but also require some training and support in place to prevent their recurrence. The same is true for depression. SSRI and MAOI can take away the pain but we require some expert help in developing strategies for keeping it away forever, which is where the therapy comes in.
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, about which I know very little, offers the means to provide the skills to deal with the causes of depression so that like a correctly-seated keyboard user or a properly-postured lifter of boxes the recurrence of the injury will be averted for ever. At least I hope so.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
My Bill Bryson Moment, a Grumpy Old Pedant speaks
A recent BBC News article contained the phrase: "Lahore is now the epicentre of a struggle ..."
A superficial scan of online dictionary definitions confirms and supports my opinion that "epicentre" means "The point of the earth's surface directly above the focus of an earthquake".
This demonstrates the regrettable tendency for a longer and inaccurate word to be used where a shorter word does the job perfectly well. I overheard someone say "Please interpolate these results for me" when he should have said "Please interpret these results". "Interpolate" has an extra syllable and the pompous twit who used it was trying to make himself sound more important by using a longer word. Unfortunately the word "Interpolate", while it has to do with the interpretation of data, does not mean the interpretation of data. It means the prediction or estimation of a value by using known values of the data which lie to either side of the predicted or estimated value. For example if the weather report told me that the temperature in Birmingham yesterday was eighteen degrees and in Nottingham was twenty degrees I could interpolate that the temperature in Ashby-de-la-Zouche was nineteen degrees. Since Ashby-de-la-Zouche lies halfway between Birmingham and Nottingham it is reasonable to expect that the temperature there lies halfway between the temperatures for those two cities.
Misusing "epicentre" where "centre" does the job is a crime of similar magnitude. I guess the correspondent might be trying to say that a widespread undercurrent of dissent has flared up in an outbreak of violent attacks in Lahore, but why not say that instead of trying to create a geological metaphor? Confusingly the correspondent goes on to quote a source as saying "Lahore is the only city in Pakistan which has remained relatively peaceful" so far from being the centre or focus of violence, it seems the city is an island of stability so a comparison with a seismic disturbance confuses me.
If we're going to enlist expressions from fields such as geology I will allow an "avalanche of support" or a "landslide victory" since these suggest a massive, fast moving and overwhelming weight of whatever we are talking about. Unlike some pedants, I will allow that our language is evolving [1] and enriching our lives but if words like "interpolate" and "epicentre" are allowed to lose their precision and accuracy through the misuse I have quoted above, then we will all be poorer for it.
[1] And in the sense of evolutionary biology, words and phrases are being eliminated from our speech by a process of natural selection. Those which are weak or useless are not being passed on to the next generation. Those which are strong and useful are being preserved through constant use. We are constantly experimenting with new forms and making them work for us, or discarding them
A superficial scan of online dictionary definitions confirms and supports my opinion that "epicentre" means "The point of the earth's surface directly above the focus of an earthquake".
This demonstrates the regrettable tendency for a longer and inaccurate word to be used where a shorter word does the job perfectly well. I overheard someone say "Please interpolate these results for me" when he should have said "Please interpret these results". "Interpolate" has an extra syllable and the pompous twit who used it was trying to make himself sound more important by using a longer word. Unfortunately the word "Interpolate", while it has to do with the interpretation of data, does not mean the interpretation of data. It means the prediction or estimation of a value by using known values of the data which lie to either side of the predicted or estimated value. For example if the weather report told me that the temperature in Birmingham yesterday was eighteen degrees and in Nottingham was twenty degrees I could interpolate that the temperature in Ashby-de-la-Zouche was nineteen degrees. Since Ashby-de-la-Zouche lies halfway between Birmingham and Nottingham it is reasonable to expect that the temperature there lies halfway between the temperatures for those two cities.
Misusing "epicentre" where "centre" does the job is a crime of similar magnitude. I guess the correspondent might be trying to say that a widespread undercurrent of dissent has flared up in an outbreak of violent attacks in Lahore, but why not say that instead of trying to create a geological metaphor? Confusingly the correspondent goes on to quote a source as saying "Lahore is the only city in Pakistan which has remained relatively peaceful" so far from being the centre or focus of violence, it seems the city is an island of stability so a comparison with a seismic disturbance confuses me.
If we're going to enlist expressions from fields such as geology I will allow an "avalanche of support" or a "landslide victory" since these suggest a massive, fast moving and overwhelming weight of whatever we are talking about. Unlike some pedants, I will allow that our language is evolving [1] and enriching our lives but if words like "interpolate" and "epicentre" are allowed to lose their precision and accuracy through the misuse I have quoted above, then we will all be poorer for it.
[1] And in the sense of evolutionary biology, words and phrases are being eliminated from our speech by a process of natural selection. Those which are weak or useless are not being passed on to the next generation. Those which are strong and useful are being preserved through constant use. We are constantly experimenting with new forms and making them work for us, or discarding them
Monday, 20 April 2009
Rockingham Forest Chapter of the Battle of Brighton Re-Enactment Society
The following is a sample from some documents that have come into my possession after the break-up of the Rockingham Forest Chapter of the Battle of Brighton Re-Enactment Society. If anyone wishes to find out more about the past activities of this group I will be happy to make more of the documentation available through the weblog.
Official Journal of the Battle of Brighton Re-Enactment Society (Rockingham Forest Chapter)
May 1997
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Committee Business: After the AGM in April, May saw the appointment of four more scooter-riders to the managing committee. This corrected the long-term imbalance between the numbers of motorcycle riders and scooter-riders in the group the numbers represented on the committee. The matter had been hotly debated in the preceding months with detailed statistical research into the ratio of UK scooter riders and motorcyclists now and in 1967. The numbers in the UK, in the London and Home Counties area and in Sussex, for 1967 and the present day were also examined. Age profiles were brought into play to adjust for scooterists and riders over 25. The classification of powered two wheeled transport into mopeds, scooters and motorcycles was contended with legislation from 1967 and the present day presented for debate. Finally, the decision unanimously and grudgingly accepted was for a straight 50-50 split between the two parties.
The group's first outing to Skegness on the Bank Holiday Monday was deemed a limited success. 75% of the scooterists survived the trip compared with 92% of motorcycle riders. Happily, no long-term disabling injuries were reported. No custodial sentences were imposed by the Lincolnshire magistrates this year, a refreshing break from tradition (although there was a mischievous suggestion that the authorities did not want any of us in their county for a moment longer than possible!)
The second outing at the end of month was the annual trip to Brighton itself. This being the thirtieth anniversary, a special effort was made by all groups. Considerable mayhem was re-enacted for the delight of the holiday makers and participants although one sobering moment occurred when the real Sussex constabulary officers were mistaken for members of the Society taking part in the pageant. In fairness, we were unaware of the recent changes in uniform detail that made serving officers resemble their predecessors of thirty years before. In return for offering to pay for the replacement of the two vehicles, the police offered nominal charges in court leading to surprisingly lenient suspended sentences for those involved.
June 1997:
==========
Committee Business: The escalating conflict in the Balkan states led to an increase in world demand for green parkas. As a result the discount deal with Corby Military Surplus Stores was cancelled. A motion to sell back the group's accumulated stock of these garments at a profit was narrowly defeated. A counter-motion to ban the wearing of leather jackets on conscientious grounds was also defeated, as was the vote of confidence in the group treasurer.
The first mass outing to Great Yarmouth was less than successful. In part this was due to the Norfolk and Suffolk County Councils removing all their road signs for the weekend, on the advice of Lincolnshire County Council. The same measure had been adopted in 1939 to frustrate the efforts of German parachutists to find their way around and it worked for us too. The effect of the police roadblocks was to break up the columns of riders as they converged on Norwich and redirect us in different directions. Although some riders found their way to Great Yarmouth, this was more by luck than judgement. One group of Rockingham riders reported finding themselves back in Skegness, another got as far as the Dartford Crossing on the M25 before realising they were hopelessly lost and heading for home in the Bank Holiday traffic.
July 1997
=========
Committee Business: Support for the oppressed peoples of Bosnia was expressed by the Group Treasurer when he unilaterally donated the entire funds of the group to Bosnian Defense Fund. The treasurer resigned from the group on the same day as the transaction was completed and is believed to be making his way to Sarajevo to take part in the defense of the town. The group's stock of green anoraks is believed to have gone with him. Although the committee sympathises with the plight of the Bosnians, the unauthorised use of the group's resources in the manner is to be deprecated. A motion of censure was carried.
On a lighter note, the weekend camp at Shanklin, Isle of Wight went well. The heavy police presence at the ferry terminal was resented since the prolonged wait for the ferry meant that plenty of impromptu vehicle inspections could be carried out. Attempts by the police to measure the noise levels from bikes and scooters were abandoned at the request of the ferry authority, and many motorists also waiting in the car park. Warnings in connection with the construction and use of vehicles, both verbal and in writing, were issued. The police were frustrated in some of their efforts by riders swapping number plates between machines while the officers were involved elsewhere. It remains to be seen how many of the warnings will be followed up by prosecutions especially since the ferry car park is not an official highway and any prosecution will be void (or so we are advised).
August 1997
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Committee Business: The committee's historical consultant, Stan, has agreed to act as treasurer pro tem. Measures have been put into place to rebuild the groups tattered finances starting with a survival sweepstake. In return for a monthly subscription, any group members who survive twelve months riding without a spill or prosecution will split one half of the pot. The other half goes to the group. Despite it being a 'dead cert' for the group (in Stan's words) the proposal was accepted in a spirit of sportsmanship.
The all-groups conference took place at Butlins Holiday Camp, Weston Super Mare. The Rockingham Forest Chapter presented two courageous motions for debate. Motion 369 read 'The Heavens Acolytes Pensioners levy should be dropped due to the lack of reciprocal support'. Motion 370 read 'Physical intimidation during meetings, including plenary sessions, is to be deplored'. Unfortunately the conference ran out of time before either of these motions could be debated.
Official Journal of the Battle of Brighton Re-Enactment Society (Rockingham Forest Chapter)
May 1997
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Committee Business: After the AGM in April, May saw the appointment of four more scooter-riders to the managing committee. This corrected the long-term imbalance between the numbers of motorcycle riders and scooter-riders in the group the numbers represented on the committee. The matter had been hotly debated in the preceding months with detailed statistical research into the ratio of UK scooter riders and motorcyclists now and in 1967. The numbers in the UK, in the London and Home Counties area and in Sussex, for 1967 and the present day were also examined. Age profiles were brought into play to adjust for scooterists and riders over 25. The classification of powered two wheeled transport into mopeds, scooters and motorcycles was contended with legislation from 1967 and the present day presented for debate. Finally, the decision unanimously and grudgingly accepted was for a straight 50-50 split between the two parties.
The group's first outing to Skegness on the Bank Holiday Monday was deemed a limited success. 75% of the scooterists survived the trip compared with 92% of motorcycle riders. Happily, no long-term disabling injuries were reported. No custodial sentences were imposed by the Lincolnshire magistrates this year, a refreshing break from tradition (although there was a mischievous suggestion that the authorities did not want any of us in their county for a moment longer than possible!)
The second outing at the end of month was the annual trip to Brighton itself. This being the thirtieth anniversary, a special effort was made by all groups. Considerable mayhem was re-enacted for the delight of the holiday makers and participants although one sobering moment occurred when the real Sussex constabulary officers were mistaken for members of the Society taking part in the pageant. In fairness, we were unaware of the recent changes in uniform detail that made serving officers resemble their predecessors of thirty years before. In return for offering to pay for the replacement of the two vehicles, the police offered nominal charges in court leading to surprisingly lenient suspended sentences for those involved.
June 1997:
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Committee Business: The escalating conflict in the Balkan states led to an increase in world demand for green parkas. As a result the discount deal with Corby Military Surplus Stores was cancelled. A motion to sell back the group's accumulated stock of these garments at a profit was narrowly defeated. A counter-motion to ban the wearing of leather jackets on conscientious grounds was also defeated, as was the vote of confidence in the group treasurer.
The first mass outing to Great Yarmouth was less than successful. In part this was due to the Norfolk and Suffolk County Councils removing all their road signs for the weekend, on the advice of Lincolnshire County Council. The same measure had been adopted in 1939 to frustrate the efforts of German parachutists to find their way around and it worked for us too. The effect of the police roadblocks was to break up the columns of riders as they converged on Norwich and redirect us in different directions. Although some riders found their way to Great Yarmouth, this was more by luck than judgement. One group of Rockingham riders reported finding themselves back in Skegness, another got as far as the Dartford Crossing on the M25 before realising they were hopelessly lost and heading for home in the Bank Holiday traffic.
July 1997
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Committee Business: Support for the oppressed peoples of Bosnia was expressed by the Group Treasurer when he unilaterally donated the entire funds of the group to Bosnian Defense Fund. The treasurer resigned from the group on the same day as the transaction was completed and is believed to be making his way to Sarajevo to take part in the defense of the town. The group's stock of green anoraks is believed to have gone with him. Although the committee sympathises with the plight of the Bosnians, the unauthorised use of the group's resources in the manner is to be deprecated. A motion of censure was carried.
On a lighter note, the weekend camp at Shanklin, Isle of Wight went well. The heavy police presence at the ferry terminal was resented since the prolonged wait for the ferry meant that plenty of impromptu vehicle inspections could be carried out. Attempts by the police to measure the noise levels from bikes and scooters were abandoned at the request of the ferry authority, and many motorists also waiting in the car park. Warnings in connection with the construction and use of vehicles, both verbal and in writing, were issued. The police were frustrated in some of their efforts by riders swapping number plates between machines while the officers were involved elsewhere. It remains to be seen how many of the warnings will be followed up by prosecutions especially since the ferry car park is not an official highway and any prosecution will be void (or so we are advised).
August 1997
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Committee Business: The committee's historical consultant, Stan, has agreed to act as treasurer pro tem. Measures have been put into place to rebuild the groups tattered finances starting with a survival sweepstake. In return for a monthly subscription, any group members who survive twelve months riding without a spill or prosecution will split one half of the pot. The other half goes to the group. Despite it being a 'dead cert' for the group (in Stan's words) the proposal was accepted in a spirit of sportsmanship.
The all-groups conference took place at Butlins Holiday Camp, Weston Super Mare. The Rockingham Forest Chapter presented two courageous motions for debate. Motion 369 read 'The Heavens Acolytes Pensioners levy should be dropped due to the lack of reciprocal support'. Motion 370 read 'Physical intimidation during meetings, including plenary sessions, is to be deplored'. Unfortunately the conference ran out of time before either of these motions could be debated.
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