Basingstoke, London and the Lovelies

I went up to Basingstoke last weekend to stay with Dad, as JC was meant to be off to Luxembourg to visit his parents and sister who had flown in from NZ.  Not only did JC pick up an awful cold, which meant he was in no mood to travel, but his sister and children had brought Covid to his parent's in Luxembourg. So the Luxembourg end was in various states of coughing/bed-bound people and certainly not open for visitors.  

JC notwithstanding, I took the train up to Basingstoke Thursday evening.  I worked from there Friday morning and was grateful I would take Dad to a hospital appointment that afternoon and meet an old friend for coffee later that day.  

On Saturday I went up to London and met Caitlin for lunch in Okan.  Aside from the fact that we had to squidge into the seating, and wait to be served (Caitlin nailed the calm-Ruth-down thing) the food was amazingly wonderful and I'd highly recommend.  We then pottered off to meet Keith, Jude and Robin for coffee in Grind.

It was only once in Grind that we realised it was part of Brewdog.  Which was majorly exciting as this Brewdog pub had a slide in it.  What's not to love?


Once we had slid ourselves out, Caitlin and I pottered off to the Imperial War Museum. Allegedly to see 'stuff' but actually because it was a convent spot to stop, have a cuppa and do puzzles.  

We then ambled down towards Stockwell and met Riona and Mark for coffee.  They had just returned from Bruges and it was wonderful to see them both.  

On Sunday Robin and I cooked, then the boys and I played games. Lovely stuff.  Not so lovely was the train home.  When it arrived at Basingstoke I literally had to push my way on.  There were over 15 people standing in the bit between the doors and the toilet.  I couldn't put my bag down and it was similar to those buses you get at airports to take you to/from the plane.  We went via Westbury as there were track works.  But, by then, I'd also ascertained that Paddington station was closed and passengers for Bristol and the like were all on this train.  100s of people left the train at Wesbury and suddenly the carriage was half empty.  Really weird, and I was grateful after a couple of hours on my feet to have a seat.  At least I got home OK and only 16 minutes late - there goes another Delay Repay claim.

The Barrels of Tar, Ottery style

Every year on 05 November, or 04 November if the 5th is on a Sunday, Ottery St Mary ignites, literally, an old tradition known as Tar Barrels.  It's been going for hundreds of years.  The exact origins are unknown, but probably started after the gunpowder plot of 1605.  Various alternative suggestions for burning barrels have included fumigation of cottages and as a warning of the approach of the Spanish Armada.  

The event involves barrels, lined with tar, lit and hoisted onto a local's shoulders, then the bearer runs up and down a road or two.  The barrels start at 16:00 with the children's barrels, far smaller than the adult version, but still with similar risks.  Each child/adult is hoodie'd up (is that a word?), and their hands covered in fire proof mittens.  As the evening progresses the size of the barrels increases as more senior children run their barrels, then then men's and women's barrels start and carry on for the rest of the night.

Ahead of this somewhat mad event, there is a year's worth of prep.  Money needs raising, all the health and safety concerns need to be addressed/mitigated (on the night the local library is the command centre and they fly drones to keep an eye on the action/crowds), and roads closed.  In the central square of Ottery, local businesses board up their properties to ensure that no barrel or crowd falls into their shop.  Boots reminded us they were still open despite the boarding.

The first event of Tar Barrels is the firing of the rock cannons around 0530 (I never hear them but other locals do).  And then the cannons are fired throughout the day before the first barrel is run.   My friend Emma is an authorised cannon firer and we ended up watching the 13:00 firing with her.  They look like guns but, on closer inspection, are mini cannons, detonated by hitting the ignition point.

As the day progressed, Ottery turned into a Covid-like lock in, with no vehicle entry/exit and we were all in it together.

Fortunately, because we live on one of the barrel runs, we could pop in and out as we pleased.  I find the crowds quite overwhelming after a while and need to retreat for some peace.  We did, however, realise that they were running a barrel up and down our road so got some ring-side views!