Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

I’ve come to realise that since becoming a season ticket holder at the Amex, the match day goings on have somewhat taken over a lot of my recent blogs, and I’m not entirely sure if either of you even like football, so this blog shall have not a single mention of the impending fixture this evening, at home to Newcastle, in the FA cup fourth round, oops, well other than that last bit anyway. Seaaaguuullllls!!!

This coming year appears to hold promise, if the phone calls I’ve been having regarding future work are anything to go by, and all interesting stuff too. One lot I’m not even allowed to talk about at the moment, (very hush hush in the old patents pending department), I’m just looking forward to getting the drawings for that little project, and once the product has made it out into the world, then hopefully I can share the pics showing the fruits of my labour. These phone calls have been happening while I am actually working, which is always a good sign in January, so whatever happens in the near or distant future, this will have been a better than expected start to 2012.

Also this week I was lucky enough to be granted access to my neighbour, Allen’s photo collection of his mums family, within which are priceless images of Shoreham Beach from nearly a hundred years back, and with some of the stories that go with the pictures, I hope to be able to paint a scriptual picture to add to the Bungalow Town recollections which we already have, some truly amazing yarns, as well as some lovely humorous tales too. Once you start digging into the history of this little peninsula it’s easy to get drawn in further, lapping up every new bit of info you come across. One small snippet for now, Allen’s Grandad and Grand Uncle used to like to nip into town of an evening when they were here on holiday, but the footbridge back then had a toll keeper, it was a penny to cross, but the toll hut closed at six o clock in the evening, so they’d stand there and wait for the toll keeper to close up, then cross into town toll free. These two used to like a bet too, one time after a good day at a racecourse, they disappeared across the channel to France, without a word to anyone, blew their winnings then came back, this was before the First World War! They were part of a family of publicans from London, and Shoreham Beach was one of their holiday destinations, a completely different world from the East End of London. More to come on this story in the not too distant future. The photograph with this blog was taken at Easter 1933 on Shoreham Beach, Doris, who sadly died some years back now, is second from right in the picture, she was Allen’s mum, and our next door neighbour until she passed away, a really lovely lady with a zest for life, and I can’t wait to tell her story. Between her and her husband, Bill, they lived an amazing life by our standards today, and I know all of us as kids loved having them as neighbours, and as adults too.

I had been led to believe that my short scribe about the maritime history of Shoreham, and the Fort at the harbour entrance, would be getting an airing in the Herald this week, but alas that seems to have been put on hold for the moment at least, but I live in hope it may yet make it into print sometime. There used to be a saying, ‘todays story is tomorrows chip wrapping’, (before the Health and Safety Executive began interfering with every aspect of our lives), but I’d love the opportunity to become somebody’s chip wrapper tomorrow, even if only on a fleeting basis.

In the news this week was mention of one of our great institutions, Hornby toy manufacturers issuing a profit warning, and one of their ploys to attend to this situation in Olympic year, is to knock out cheap models of London buses and taxis, presumeably in the hope that the Olympic tourists will shell out for the iconic toys and bolster sales, then following that story they cheerily inform us that an asteroid soon to be passing close to the Earth, is, conveniently, the size of a bus. As Ken Bruce remarked on the radio, ‘can we then expect two or three more to be following close behind that one?’, you can’t help but think someone is having a bit of fun when compiling some of those news bulletins, I’m surprised ‘Planes, Trains, and Automobiles’ didn’t get a mention. Whatever the case, it will be a sad day that passes should Hornby ever cease to trade, where will we go for our boyhood dream making kits, always imagined with a small Hummel paint pot, tubes of glue, and collection of tiny paint brushes. I remember well the joy of walking around Gammons toy shop, north of the station, wishing I could have pretty much everything that was in there, if either of you are close to the same age as me, you’ll doubtless be invoking a few similar memories right now just reading this bit, halcyon days.

This week oy av bin mostly….

22-01-2012

This week oy av bin mostly buildin shelves for Imelda Marcos’s shoes! It isn’t the sort of work I encourage people to believe I can do, but in the current climate beggars can’t be choosers. Add to that, the customers quote from a company that specialise in fitted bedroom furniture, running in to four figures, and we have a marriage of convenience, and a purpose built cupboard and shelving which according to Lynne, whose shoes and hats will fill the finished article, surpass the fitted bedroom company’s design, which made me happy. Mostly though, it’s nice to know you’re back to work and paying your way in life, or earning my way at least for now. I was supposed to be helping a mate with some roofing, but they pulled the pin on the idea in fear of bad weather, so Tony and Lynnes job got moved forward, unfortunately I woke up with a cold the Tuesday I started, so was sneezing me tits off and getting through an unhealthy amount of hankees throughout the week. Right now I’m mentally hearing the old ‘Manflu’ bullshit term being raised in certain quarters, your office wallers may well pull a paid sickie in this situ, but not a self employed tradesman, I’d rather be working when I’m germ ridden anyway.

When Lynne told me what she wanted the space to give her, I had not the slightest notion of just how many shoes she could possibly own, so as I started talking shelf spacing, and how many tiers she might get in the quirky alcove we were designing around, it dawned on me that the doubtful look on Lynnes face was telling me something, “just how many pairs of shoes have you got then?”. She wasn’t sure, Tony had smiled and walked by now, he obviously knows his wife well enough not to have to hang around for the look of disbelief on my face when I hear her answer, which was, “eighty that I’ve counted so far”, and she thinks there are more in boxes not yet opened. I should explain that they’ve just recently moved into this new place, so boxes litter the house while they settle in, “I’m building a shoe emporium for Imelda bloody Marcos!”. For those that don’t know of Imelda, Google her name and all will become apparent.

There are a number of things I like about working after a lay off of any amount of time, such as the drive to work, it’s when I’m at my most relaxed and the mind ticks along with ideas, inspired by what’s around me as well as by any current schemes of interest I may have been thinking of writing about. Also listening to the radio, both for the music, and also for any comedic potential out there, so generally BBC radio 2 with Chris Evans, then Ken Bruce, and later in the day a bit of Mark Radcliff and Stuart Maconie over on BBC radio 6, I like to be kept amused and informed at the same time, which that lot achieve for the most part. And I always have my little snappy camera with me just in case I might spot something worth snapping away at, and a notepad to jot down any little nuggets that may pop into the space between me ears. All these things are somewhat self indulgent I know, but when you sandwich work in between them, then it all becomes validated by the fact you’ve achieved something real, produced a thing of value to whoever you’re doing it for, paid or otherwise, which allows you the opportunity to indulge your dreamworld existence. I’ve said before how I’m a bit of a dreamer, I can’t see that ever changing, but it’s nice to know I’m not on my own, the entertainment world is full of them, I’m much more in fear of becoming one of these hideous bores that are driven by personal gain, but let’s not go there right now eh.

It will be no secret to either of you that follow my blogs, that I’m not a big fan of politicians, especially those at the top end, and it was with a mix of incredulity and mirth, that I read about a certain American political something or other, called Newt Gingrich, (a name in itself seemingly invented for comic purpose), who according to an ex wife, “lacks morals”, no shit Sherlock!, but how the fuck is that news?, findind a politician that is even aware of what the word means would be news. The guy allegedly asked his second wife, Marianne, to agree to an ‘open relationship’, as he was already seeing someone else, she didn’t consent to the idea, and he is now married, for a third time, to the woman he had been seeing, Callista Bisek. Second wife, Marianne, puts this information out there for the American media to consume, and Mr Gingrich calls it “despicable” for its timing, which in fairness he may have a point about, news corporations seemingly more interested in tittle tattle than real news. However, it doesn’t change the fact that this is a man seriously going for the God botherers vote, in a country in the unhealthy grip of pious, worshipping, God botherers. Talking of his past indiscretions, he states that he has, “been very open about needing to go to God for reconcilliation”, which, dissected, basically means, ‘making sure that’s what the religious electorate believe in order to secure their votes’.

It’s much like a prosecuting lawyer would say to the jury regarding what he wants to paint as an, ‘unreliable witness’, “he lied before, so how can you be sure he isn’t lying now?”. How far do you take that way of thinking?, Gingrich has proven himself perfectly adept in the art of deception with those closest to him, why should he be trusted to be any different in a position of power?, why would he not seek to cover up any failings in order to get into, then hang onto, power. The idea that you can invoke some fictional deity that will forgive you all your sins is incredibly convenient, it reminds me of the joke where the little boy continually prays to God for a bike, but without success, then he hits on the idea of nicking one, and asking God for forgiveness afterwards, priceless childlike logic, but not what you might be hoping for from a potential world leader.

It was also nice to hear Radcliff and Maconie on Radio 6, committing the perceived herecy of stating their non affilliation to the Olympic movement, that hugely criminal waste of money arriving to our shores in a few months time, at something like triple the original estmated costs. So we will have the news filled with stories of who could throw some stick, ball, or disc, further than anyone else, or who could run in circles quicker than the other unhealthy looking nutters circumnavigating an empty space. Radcliff suggested some competitions which might be more relevant to us, such as an egg and spoon race, but the over riding emphasis was that there really are a lot of us out there that simply could not care less about the whole ridiculous waste of resources which are the Olympic games. The only benefits I’m aware of, are improved travel infrastuctures and stadia, but at what cost?, it’s all very well to say, “oh look, I’ve got a lovely driveway, pool, tennis court, and running track at my new place, but I’m now officially bankrupt for the next few lifetimes so I can’t use them anyway”. Look at Darlington football club for a small scale version of that problem, a 25,000 seater stadium built for a non league club that struggle to get a few hunderd fans through the turnstiles, they can’t even afford to run the stadium, so it will have to be knocked down and sold as real estate to allow them to survive. Why strive to own something you can’t even afford the rates on?, just madness, cut your cloth according to your means.

Having worked the week, and with my away ticket for the Peterborough game on my desk, I figured I’d earned a couple of after workers at the Waterside on Friday night, with the intention of not overdoing it in preparation for an early start Saturday morning. Well, ‘the best laid plans’, and all that, not being my strong point, I woke up feeling decidedly under the weather, and didn’t fancy the trip up to the Posh. It didn’t take me long to regret this negative train of thinking, and at the last minute I raced off to see if I could get up there in time, despite the fact that it would cost me an eye watering sixty three quid for the rail ticket, but I’d made my mind up by then, so sod the cost. I got to the station in good time to grab the fast train to Victoria, and though it was busy, it’s a great way to travel, especially as you cross the Thames, looking up and down this majestic river with its centuries of history and impressive bridges, something I never get tired of. Five stops on the underground and I’m at the incredible Kings Cross St Pancras station, a thing of beauty and marvel of engineering, it’s this kind of stuff that grabs you in London, the scale and maginificence of everything, as well as the history. Then I make my way to the mainline station, just in time to catch the fast train to Peterborough, with just a minute before it was leaving, seventy odd miles non stop, can’t beat that kind of luck, and what a train, smooth, comfortable, and even with plug sockets to charge up your lap tops or phones, it was like a technology convention on board, lap tops, iPads, iPhones, tablets, the first class carriages were rife with them as I walked through to the slightly less luxuriant peasant class further on, but still perfectly comfortable.

I made it in to Peterborough by 2.15, bloody amazing I thought, and an easy walk to the ground in plenty of time. The town centre itself is a nice peaceful, old looking collection of buildings with mainly pedestrian roads, and a feeling that centuries back this was a busy market town, with the best elements of its architecture now supporting the leisure and tourism aspect of the place. The ground itself harbours no such delusions of grandeur, looking like it’s been set in a post apocalyptic bomb site, this really was like travelling back in time, I’d say very little has been done the London Road stadium for a good thirty years by the look of it, with perhaps the exception of the hospitality section sandwiched between the tiers of the main stand, it’s a collection of patio doors, one after another, resembling some kind of Double Glazing company convention.

They have terraced stands behind the goals, so the Albion filled their East end with both numbers and noise from the off, while the rest of us occupying the seats in the adjoining North stand. It’s actually quite a nice little ground inside, even if the plastic seats feel as if they were sized for children, but once the game kicked off that was soon forgotten, especially as Brighton began so brightly, dominating possession for long periods, playing great football to watch, and attacking in waves, which eventually resulted in Buckleys opener after Adam El Abd had been scythed down by Sinclair near the by line, a good thirty yards out, Buckers curled in to to the far corner to huge cheers of derision at their keeper from the Albion fans behind his goal, “dodgy keeper, dodgy keeper”. The game wasn’t all Brighton, with the Posh having a spell of attacking play in the second half, led mainly by their impressive number 26, Taylor, he looked a worry everytime he went forward, going at pace and taking on our lads with no fear at all. Eventually their play got them an equaliser, and in fairness it had looked as if they might during that period, but Brighton soon regained control of the game, and Buckleys clinical winner was just desserts for a great performance away from home.

As I had travelled up on my own it was nice to be among a load of contented fellow Albion supporters on the way back, as well as sharing in the benefits of their technology as they called out the other results and stories of the day. I found myself sat next to a Peter Kay lookalike, Dan, who as it turns out, being only a few years younger than me, has been to many of the same big games as I have down the years, so the trip back was a nice mix of past and present, enjoying talking of the game just played, then tripping down memory lane to Brightons former glory years of the late seventies and early eighties. Back in London the Albion fans were giving renditions of the Will Buckley song, which is basically a reworking of the Heartbeat song, and theme tune, as we all made for the underground. Through the underground it’s everyone for yourself, but I would keep bumping into Dan, so by the time we got to Victoria he had introduced himself, and I had to ask him if he’d ever been likened to Peter Kay, “quite a few times”, he told me, then tells me how he bemoaned the fact to his wife, when they went to see the comedian, that he wasn’t as fat as Kay, but as the northern comic is a fair bit younger then he’ll take it as a compliment, good lad, look for the positives in life!

Yankee misconceptions 1997

Yankee misconceptions of the world they left behind,
assist to keep them comfortably buffered,
the heritage that used to be, a European mind,
and years of wars those peoples long since suffered.

So Pilgrim Fathers left our shores to make their dreams come true,
and build from scratch a better place to live,
and soon embarked upon a brave new world began from few,
with best intentions all they had to give.

But carving up a continent was not an easy task,
where greed and vermin easily could flourish,
and soon this fresh society behind the brave new mask,
grew giant rats with plenty there to nourish.

A European tidal wave relentless cleared away,
with Indians like forests swept aside,
so brand new concrete jungles sprang up each and every way,
upon the land where all those natives died.

Free from King and colony, and through a civil war,
the fledgling state grew ever stronger still,
self determination is the motto on their door,
and with the power to impose their will.

Private corporations with accountants at the wheel,
made economy the lord to whom they serve,
quietly convince the population that they feel,
that by spending they will get what they deserve.

Inventing mass production in Detroit was Henry Ford,
a revolution there was on its way,
and soon the city swelled as in for work the labour poured,
convinced they’re working for a better day.

Then to keep this workforce happy, and believing that life’s good,
give ‘em Big Macs, Coke, Walt Disney and the sports,
using films for ideologies that pump through Hollywood,
which can govern by concensus all their thoughts.

The European wars contrived to tip the power scales,
and helped the US profit through supply,
with armaments and ‘Liberties’, the ships so many sailed,
that very nearly bled an empire dry.

So now we have America, the major power left,
consumerism is their comfort buffer,
and as their huge economies establish and invest,
their global impact soon makes others suffer.

Respect for other peoples, for their cultures and beliefs,
should be the first concern in all our minds,
not force or subjugation, and the morals of a thief,
which with the global companies we find.

Their unrelenting might and major politicians bought,
make all of us suspicious rightly so,
suspicious of the funding that these leaders clearly sought,
and finally the lengths to which they’ll go.

Power when misused becomes a nasty ugly tool,
but remember that things always go both ways,
try not to leave it in the hands of any fool,
for that fool won’t be the one that’s made to pay.

The Devils bottom

14-01-2012

Second week into 2012, and other than a couple of cyclonic blasts of foul weather it’s been a pretty pleasant start to the year, with stuff of interest going on all around me. I had a message from the Herald letting me know they’re interested in running my ‘Brief Maritime history of Shoreham’ story, maybe next week, so hopefully that may help the cause of the Shoreham Fort project, as that was the focus of the story, and the reason for me researching and writing it in the first place. Also, Ray, the Landlord at the Marlipins in the High Street, has agreed to put up copies of ‘Bangkok to BC’ for sale, by donation, in the pub, all proceeds going to the RNLI, so that’s three pubs now doing that, he said there were three sales on the first day, one punter putting eight quid in the Lifeboat box for his copy, which is nice.

Work on the Fische all got done in time for Sams fortieth birthday Science Fiction themed party, creating a toilet cubicle under the stairs which just got finished on Friday evening, even utilising one of the original mine sweeper doors for it, which was a nice touch. I left them to the pre party tidy up, with the parting shot of, “see you all tomorrow”, for the actual gig, before going off to meet up with my brother Stig, and a few mates for after workers at the Waterside that Friday evening. The night ended up with me going back to Stigs and knocking back a few ‘Dark and Stormies’, end result being me hammered and staggering home in a blur. It’s a dangerously tasty drink, and should have a health warning attached to each glass, maybe it’s the ginger beer in it, taking you psychologically back to your happy childhood, and that Enid Blyton world of, ‘lashings and lashings of ginger beer’, either way, it may not feel like drinking alcohol, but it certainly slays you. The upshot of all that was that I didn’t fancy another night of drinking on the Saturday, as is usual with me after a big session, or big at least by my ageing standards, so I didn’t get along to the party I’d been helping Fred prepare for.

I went along Sunday afternoon, to check on the aftermath of the party, and apparently everything had gone fantastically well, I even had the last bottle of beer, which Jake had just discovered, so I took part in spirit if not in body, and hung around for a while enjoying the acoustics of this newly expanded gig area amidships on the Fische. So with the pressure of getting everything ready for the party, now out of the way, I figured now would be a good time to have a go at the old mans boat, the Devils Advocate. She’s been out of the water for a few weeks, and the old boy is keen to get work moving on her, so unbekown to him I slipped along to the yacht club to see what I might be able to get on with. As it turned out, it was all quite easy, sanded down the hull, taped the waterline, scrubbed back, sanded and treated the rust on the keel, and two thirds of the anti foul done before running out of the stuff, we’re now waiting on a delivery, then it’s a couple of hours work to finish off the Devils bottom and get her back in the water, followed hopefully by some racing action again.

One of the great things about working at the yacht club, is being alongside the river, I always have my camera with me, because I just know at some point there will be something worth taking a picture of, be it sunrise, sunsets, wildlife, or boat moving stuff going on. Once you’re immersed in the marine environment it’s simply a different world to the rat race outside, I can see perfectly well why people seek to escape there, it’s not quite as good as being on the water, but I can think of plenty worse places to go and forget any worries you may have. I call the boat the old mans ‘Garden Shed’, the place he likes to go, put on the kettle, pump the bilges, check the instruments, tapping the barometer and resetting the needle, listening to a radio station he complains about at home, but apparently is ok if it’s on the boat! I know it’s important to Squire to have his boat time, and once you spend a bit of time around a yacht club, you can soon see he’s not alone. I often used to look on in bemusement at these people that would sink years of their time into working on, or building, a boat over several years, decades sometimes, wondering at the madness of it, but eventually I think I’ve grasped a little better understanding of why they do it, and ‘Escape’ seems to me the word that best sums it up.

So it was nice to see the smile on Squires face when we rolled up at the Devil and he could see the anti foul was all but done, it would have been finished but the chandlers didn’t have enough of the stuff in,  it’s been ordered though, so I’ll finish the job once the gear turns up. While I was working on the Devil, I had a call regarding the possibility of work, a loft conversion in Worthing, then maybe some timber frame new builds on Shoreham Beach, working with some lads I’ve worked with before. We’ve met up, pored over the drawings, and it looks very promising, so I may actually find myself gainfully employed this year, and on interesting jobs too, which would be a bonus.

Today the Albion are at home to Bristol City, so I’ll be off to that game shortly. I have no idea what to expect after that wonderful, yet surprising result against Southampton, followed by the crash back to earth result against Wrexham last Saturday

North Stand Chat, be careful what you say!

09-01-2012

 

Today I decided to have a look at the ‘North Stand Chat’ site, and chucked myself in at the deep end with a suggestion that maybe the North stand at the Amex could do with enlarging, so as not to be outdone by away teams that fill the South stand. Admittedly, I directed them to my blog, which I have since moderated in fairness to some of the comments, but what surprised me was how aggressive some of them decide to be in their tone of disagreeing, actually, just one that stood out, but if you trawl the forums, some of them get really heated. Thankfully there were enough reasoned contributors who were prepared to explain coherently how my ideas weren’t practical, and eventually a voice that appeared to know what was going on joined in to let us all know that the club already have the situation in hand, by filling in the South corners of the ground, and moving the away fans to half of the South stand, and part of the South east.

Regardless of what happens at the Amex, the main lesson I have learned is, think very carefully in future before posting any thoughts on North Stand chat, but also give a little more thought to my blogs, and re read them a bit more thoroughly, then maybe walk away for a while and come back with a fresh head to see what I’ve written. The only issue with that is that I don’t want to end up writing inoffensive turgid crap that doesn’t either interest or upset anyone. I’m already only too aware that you will never please everyone, nor would I expect to, and fortunately I don’t have to suffer comments directly on my blog, not because I don’t want to, the site simply doesn’t allow for it. I’ve noticed before on unrelated blog sites, and online newspaper columns, just how vicious and barbed some commenters can be, so I shouldn’t really have been surprised I suppose. The funniest thing about it is that I’m normally quite happy to get in to a slagging match, but face to face preferably, and rarely, (though by no means always), for anything other than personal amusement, which means getting inventive, after all, if you’re going to abuse someone, at least make an effort to be funny about it, any idiot can be just plain nasty.

Despite the mild venom, and I mean mild, I was only referred to as a ‘plank’ at first, then he mentioned my, ‘ramblings of an idiot’ in a follow up, he also informed me he wasn’t trying to be funny after I applauded his ‘shining wit’. The upshot of the whole thing is, I see he had a point, but just had an unfortunate way of putting it, I didn’t rise to his bait. As one of the other commenters told me, the North Stand Chat forum is a steep learning curve, maybe, but as long as you can hold the moral high ground and not descend into direct abuse, I see no reason why I shouldn’t air my thoughts and take it from there.

Close Harmony Blues

07-01-2012

With the first week of 2012 behind us, the weather has been a bit like the economy, unpredictable at best, and it would appear by the evidence so far, that the football is going along in a similar vein. From the relative comfort of 1901 seats in the East stand, I witnessed the Welshmen of Wrexham make a mockery of the three divisions seperating the two teams, supported by, to paraphrase Blackadder, ‘huge gangs of tough sinewy men, terrorising opposition fans with their close-harmony singing’. I don’t know about the tough sinewy men, but their close harmony singing might well attract the attention of Gareth Malone for a possible new series, they did their team proud, although to those of us old enough, this came as no surprise. Back in the seventies, when our Lord Peter Ward was weaving his magic around defences up and down the country, Wrexham were riding high with the Albion at the top of the old third division, beating us two nil at the Goldstone in front of 22,695 fans, the year we began our charge up the divisions in 1976/77. They missed out that season, but went up as Champions the following year. Nice boots them shoes look you, izzanet.

Brighton didn’t look particularly comfortable considering they’re a Championship side playing against non league opponents, but Wrexham are top of their league and winning breeds confidence and belief. Plus the Albion have a fairly unhealthy amount of players unavailable, fielding three youngsters in the starting line up, with two more coming on as subs just after the Welshmen got the equaliser. I have to say here, some of Poyets substitutions appear odd to say the least, against Burnley he threw on his last two subs just after we went down to nine men, with seventy minutes of the game still to go, and today he had his subs lined up to go on, then Wrexham score, but he carries on and chucks them on anyway, leaving Mackail Smith on the bench, who I felt would have enjoyed having a go at their Dodgy Keeper, as the North Stand kept bellowing out. In fairness, all of these youngsters did really well once they were on, looking eager to chase everything, unlike Barnes, who seems afflicted with the same lacklustre spirit of Billy Paynter on too many occasions. Body language is important when you have twenty thousand fans watching your every move, and although the words footballer and intelligent will rarely be used in tandem, you’d think someone would notice and have a word in their shell likes.

Looking down from above the halfway line, a couple of things hit me, and stung a little I’m afraid, firstly, how insignificant the North stand looks from there, and secondly, but most painful, is how the away support drown them out with comparable ease. I’ve only been in the North stand before todays game, so could have no idea how mute we would appear to the away fans, much like we mock them in our ignorance when they decide to chirp up, suddenly I’m aware that the North stand is inadequate, and grossly so, but not the fans I hasten to add, it simply isn’t big enough. Among the building plans which the Albion wish to embark upon, they should make it an absolute priority to increase the North stand capacity, otherwise the ‘Home’ end will just become an embarrassment, a stick with which away fans will take great delight in beating us with. The stadium itself has a good atmosphere, but you want a great atmosphere behind the goal, it should be the focus of support, not a sideshow to the much bigger West stand. For me, the game has always been about the atmosphere every bit as much as the football, a match without either is a disappointment. One of the highlights of todays game were the circling seagulls that distracted everyone for a little while, however amusing, isn’t saying a great deal about the football on display.

The plus points of the day for me, other than slightly wider seats with arm rests, free programmes and hot coffee, were the performances of the young players being blooded, Jake Forster Caskey starting after his great game against Southampton, Grant Hall looking for the most part solid in defence, Adgestein, and Rodgers both eager to get on the ball and be involved as much as possible once they came on, and with no inhibitions regarding running at the oppos defence. Sampayo looked pretty good on the ball, I hope we get to see a bit more of him in the future, while of the six younsters, Kasim was the quietist I felt, but I may have a different opinion if I were to see the game replayed from the comfort of an armchair. Another niggling point for me, was Lua Lua, one minute beguiling us all with his mazy runs and trickery, the next rolling around as if he’s on his last breath with the vet marching out, shotgun loaded to put the poor beast out of its misery. He did it twice against Southampton, and if the management had taken notice of his pleas to be dragged off, he wouldn’t have been around for the first goal he made, the second time in that game they did actually haul him off, or it could be he saw his number was up already so limped off to make it look as if it was an injury decision. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into everything! Overall there can be no complaints, Wrexham earned their replay, so Brighton will travel across the border on the 17th January for another rendition of their fans close harmony intimidation, bring it on.

A fine start 03-01-2012

Well that was a fine start to the New Year, the Albion turn the league leaders over by three goals after a run of four defeats on the trot, as I said in my last blog, ‘it’s a funny old game of two halves’. And what sweet music to Albion ears it was, to hear their manager bleating about perceived injustices to his team, conveniently forgetting the outrageous decisions his side took full advantage of at their place, a penalty given when the challenge was a good yard outside the box, then another penalty after Lambert conned the ref into thinking Calderon had shot him. And their luck seemed to be continuing at the Amex, as Harding scythed through Mackail Smith in front of an enraged West stand, only to get a very lucky yellow, followed not long after by a challenge on Buckley, easily worthy of another yellow, but just gets a talking to from the ref. Adkins hauled Harding off minutes later, so he knew how lucky the lad was to still be on the pitch, and got him off before he was sent off. He aslo neglects to mention the nailed on penalty against Buckley this time around, turned down after one of his players floored Buckers as he was through on goal. No Mr Adkins, you just found out the hard way how, what goes around comes around, your team deserve no sympathy as they certainly didn’t get to where they are without having more than their fair share of luck, whereas, Brighton have had precious little of that particular commodity in their season so far.

The one thing I would agree with Adkins about, was that after Lambert was sent off the game changed, you could see it almost immediately, although I’d say Harding coming off had a little to do with it too, he’d been giving the Albion trouble down the left flank, so with the both of them out of the way the tide turned quite noticeably, but before that Brighton had defended well to make sure Southamptons efforts didn’t result in goals, Brezovan in particular looking assured between the posts, pulling off an outstanding double save at one point. But after Lamberts dismissal it was pretty much one way traffic, and waves of Albion attacks poured forward, Lua Lua in particular causing Saints all kinds of problems, the crowd sensed it too and ramped up the volume, willing the Albion to take full advantage of the situation.

There were plenty of highlights in the game, Brezovans double save, Sparrows 25 yards screamer into the top right corner, Lua Lua running their defence ragged in the second half, and the goal line clearances, not to mention the teenage Forster Caskey coming into the side and scoring. But it was the overall team performance which gave the crowd belief, Southampton were threatening in the first half, but nowhere near overwhelming, and considering they should have been down to ten men as early as the 23rd minute, they should consider themselves lucky it wasn’t even worse in the end.

A New Year blog 02-01-2012

 

Well here it is at last, allegedly the last year of existence according to some Mayan legend. Well as I’m feeling full of vim, vigour, and vitality right now, this is as good a time as any to stick two fingers up to that particular idea, I shall patrol the cyber lanes of Nerdville to find out the exact date, and be prepared with a bottle of bubbly for the occasion, possibly a hotel room, and leave the rest to your smutty imagination. If it’s gonna happen, which it obviously won’t, but either way, I guarantee I’ll have a smile on my boat race, such is the life of the grand dreamer. I shall attempt to, if not emulate, then at least share in the spirit of a girl I met while travelling, who instead of adhering to the aboriginal request to not climb their sacred big red pebble called Uluru, hoisted the metaphorical middle digit by shagging her boyfriend of the time when up the top of the damn thing, now that’s the sort of stuff you can’t help but smile at. It did however almost cause her a bit of grief back home when she had to rescue the book from her mum before she got to that bit. Is that really nearly ten years ago now?!!, bloody hell, where did it go??.

Yep, I’m definitely in the sort of zone that could annoy people, but this is me most years, once the falseness of yuletide has been swept away, normal business can be resumed. And despite a few blips, I’m maintaining the non smoking better than well, it’s been over two months now, with less than half a dozen lapses. The pub was always going to be the hardest part, but as finances are so strained that issue has been somewhat taken out of my hands, but the lapses I did have weren’t at the pub anyway, the most recent being at Davids belated Boxing day bash, which was a bloody good night in damn fine company, so I’ll treat that like the seasonal cigar box that used to appear on such occasions, and hope Mr Severs will forgive me for scarfing down the whole thing on my own without thinking!!

Later today I’m off to the Amex, the Albion take on Southampton, a top of the table side with mid table support, but then their fans have always been pants, while the team have mostly punched above their weight. Brighton are in the grip of a poor run, exascerbated by some dreadful discipline and sadly misfiring front men, suffice to say the bookies favourite will be the red and white shirts of St Marys, but as we all know, football’s a funny old game of two halves, nothing is written, and anything can happen, so us fans will still believe our lads can get a result and play our part as the twelth man.

As far as resolutions go, no thanks, what will be will be. I’d like to think there might be more work around this year, but I can easily occupy my mind with the various writing projects I have underway if there isn’t, though some kind of focus may not go amiss in that department. I tend to be easily distracted, so prefer to have more than one project at a time to work on, currently the Shoreham Fort project is front and centre, as well as the family tree, which is always hanging around one way or another. I’d like to be able to afford to travel around the country finding out more about the ancestors lives, but I’ll have to make do with what I can glean through the internet for now. The Fort, or Redoubt as it was originally called, has proved to be a very welcome and unexpected distraction, allowing me to indulge my interest in all things historical, especially local history, so I look forward to continuing with that investigation and where it may lead. I also want to clean up and finish a short story I’ve had on the back burner for a few years now, most of the writing is there already, it just wants sorting out and editing ready for readers consumption. We’ll see about that, no promises, but I hope I do actually get it moving again at least.

Also, the Devil needs a few things doing to it while she’s out of the water, so a team needs organising for scrub down, and anti foul detail, general spiv, and get back in the wet stuff so we can sail again as soon as possible, which will also mean dismantling the Devils staircase once more, then finding room in the garage to store it for another year!! That’s just reminded me I didn’t get round to organising the bloody garage, again!! Bugger. On days like this, being out on the water is just bliss, so I look forward to that happening asap.

We’ve had unwellness in the house this Chrimbo, but health appears to be returning thankfully, which is the strongest pointer to my current jollity, and long may that continue. And I wish exactly the same in terms of good health to all who stop by and read my little missives, yep, both of you. Until the next blog, look after yourselves you crazy duo, and welcome to the end of the world, sorry, 2012 I mean:)))

Shoreham Redoubt, the Adur, and two thousand years of coastal defence

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28-12-2011
Having recently responded to a request for help to try and dig up archive information for what I’ve always known as the Old Fort, I found myself returning to many different ‘histories’ of Shoreham in my quest, so I thought, why not try and bring them together for a brief history of the town in an attempt to explain why it should be considered important enough to warrant its own coastal fortification, also how that need was originally acted upon at least a thousand years ago during Norman times, and quite possibly a thousand years before that when the Romans ruled Brittanica.
Shorehams history will always, inevitably, be linked with the River Adur, but it was a very different river and town as you drift back through the ages. For a start, the river apparently once used to go straight on towards the sea, as it passed by Ropetackle, with the Adur wide, and deep enough to allow ships of war as far upriver as Bramber. Over the centuries, the longshore drift from the west, has successively pushed the river mouth further and further east. This next paragraph, taken from Henry Cheals book, ‘The Ships and Mariners of Shoreham’, (originally written in 1909), gives an eye opening insight as to how this whole area would have once appeared:-

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‘The Adur now passes through the narrow valley–generally known as the Shoreham gap–which in the course of centuries untold it has cut between the chalk hills, and which rise to the east and west in places somewhat abruptly. That this valley was once under the sea-waters of an estuary which extended from Aldrington to St Cuthmans Port (Steyning), and, as we have seen, washed the mound of Bramber Castle, is not difficult to realise; the ancient banks may be easily traced along the road to Botolphs, also in the parish of Coombes; at the Sussex Pad Inn, and in a south-westerly direction at Lower Lancing towards the sea.’

In the remote times, when doubtless the Roman galleys were to be observed riding on the waters of this haven, this valley must have been strikingly beautiful, the slopes of the Downs on either side were then covered with a forest– part of the great Wealden forest of Anderida, which then covered nearly the whole of Sussex, and whose dark jungle and trackless depths were little known. The haven then extended over many acres of now dry land, including the low-lying levels of Lancing opening out into the estuary before named, which was bounded towards the south-east by a large promontory stretching to a point almost opposite Aldrington, where the estuary opened into the channel. The promontory has long been submerged.’

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So there you have it, the sea lapping the shore as far up as Bramber, which was quite possibly known to the Romans as Port Adurni. That there was a Port Adurni in Roman times is not disputed, but unfortunately its exact location as our River Adur, is not proved beyond doubt, as yet, although the evidence is quite strong to support the theory. I’ve often wondered whether there may be archeological evidence directly under Bramber Castle, as presumeably that would have been just as ideal a position for the Romans as it proved to be for the Normans a thousand years later. Perhaps advanced archeological technologies will one day help us to discover one way or another if that were the case.

Between the Romans and the Normans, there came the Saxons, invading these shores during the fifth century, some landing at Cymensora, (Shoreham, is believed to possibly be this site), driving out the ‘Welsh’, as the Saxons referred to the inhabitants. Cymensora is apparently the place in Southern England where according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Ælle of Sussex landed in 477 AD and battled the Welsh with his three sons Cymen, Wlencing and Cissa, Cymensora being named after the eldest son. There is no difinitive proof as to the actual location of Cymensora yet, and the Selsey area is also cited as a possible candidate. It is also to be noted that the Romans had German tribesmen in their legions, and many of them are believed to have stayed in Britain after the Romans left. Combining with the effects of the arrival of even more Angles and Saxons in the following years, it was not long before the indiginous Britons had been driven West, out of this part of England completely, or wiped out, we can only speculate at this time. Perhaps advancing technology will bring some answers to this particular puzzle too.

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Shoreham, and Adur’s history is inevitably linked with ship building, in fact, Shoreham was at one time called Hulksmouth, Hulks being the name for ships centuries back. There is an ancient borough seal inscribed, ‘By this sign of a hulc is Hulcsmouth proclaimed a harbour, and so is right worthily named’. The earliest deed referring to Shoreham as Hulkesmouth is 1302, relating to a right of ferry, ‘across the water of Hulkesmouth’. Hundreds of years later, one of the benefits of Shoreham as a ship building town, was recognised by Navy contractors, who apparently favoured Sussex oak above all else.

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This is a tract from famed writer Daniel Defoe’s three volume book, ‘A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies’, written between 1724 and 1727. After leaving Brighthelmstone (Brighton), Defoe writes:-

‘From hence, still keeping the coast close on the left, we come to Shoreham, a sea-faring town, and chiefly inhabited by ship-carpenters, ship-chandlers, and all the several trades depending upon the building and fitting up of ships, which is their chief business; and they are fam’d for neat building, and for building good sea-boats; that is to say, ships that are wholesome in the sea, and good sailors; but for strong building, they do not come up to Yarmouth, Ipswich, and the north.

The builders of ships seemed to plant here, chiefly because of the exceeding quantity and cheapness of timber in the country behind them; being the same wooded country I mentioned above, which still continues thro’ this county and the next also: The river this town stands upon, tho’ not navigable for large vessels, yet serves them to bring down this large timber in floats from Bramber, Stenning, and the country adjacent; which is as it were all covered with timber.’

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Once eventually the original harbour entrance had been shifted along to its present position, it took the intervention of man to rescue Shorehams position as a viable working harbour, its success later validated by the arrival of the railway in 1840. The by product of the long shore drift which almost finished Shoreham off as a marine trading town, was the peninsula that formed to become what is now Shoreham Beach, or Bungalow Town as it became known in its infancy. This brings me neatly, if not thoroughly, to our Shoreham Redoubt, which is situated right at the end of our peninsula, at the west side of the harbour entrance as it is today.

The importance of Shoreham as one of many possible landing stages for an enemy incursion was recognised in the 1850′s by the then Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston, owing to the perceived possibility of an invasion by the French, and the speed with which an aggressor could reach our shores with the newest steam driven ships. The fortification was completed by 1857, although it is generally accepted that all of these coastal redoubts, and their guns, were obsolete by the time they had been made ready for action. Despite that fact, Shoreham Redoubt would appear to have been permanently garrisonned at least until the 1880′s, with census reports for 1861, 71, and 81, all showing ranks of the Royal Artillary stationed there, often with their families living with them in the barracks. And it would appear from historical records, that the manning of the forts was taken over by Volunteer Forces after 1888.

The Redoubt census reports:-

1861
No1 Officers barracks
Matthew Renham. Master Gunner, Army Artillary. Born 1825 Chesterton, Cambridgeshire
Rebecca ” . Wife. 1827 Cromer, Norfolk
Matthew ” . Son. 1856 Chesterton, Camb’s
Ellen ” . Daughter. 1852 Exeter, Devon
Martha ” . ” 1854 Cromer, Norfolk
Sarah ” . ” . 1859 Tynemouth, Northumberland
Christiana ” . ” . 1860 Devonport, Devon
George Chamberlain. Nephew. 1857 Cromer, Norfolk

No2 Room. Soldiers
Isaac Babe. Bombadier. Born 1824 Ireland
Margaret ” . Wife. 1831 “
Eliza ” . Daughter. 1852 “
Ann ” . ” . 1856 Woolwich, Kent.
Margaret ” . ” . 1859 Glamorgan, Wales

Patrick Kavanagh. Gunner. 1820 Ireland
Mary ” . Wife. 1830 Liverpool.
Frank ” . Son. 1855 Woolwich, Kent
Ciscilie ” . Daughter. 1857 Ireland.
John ” . Son. 1859 Lancing

John Carroll. Gunner. 1831 Manchester
Jane ” . Wife. 1831 Farnham, Surrey

John Garters. Gunner. 1827 Ireland.
Joseph Lunt. ” . 1827 Staffordshire
Luke Parris. ” . 1824 Arlington, Sussex.
Sarah ” . Wife. 1806 Hampshire.

Arthur Porter. Gunner. 1835.
Sarah ” . Wife. 1838 France- British subject
Amelia ” . Daughter. 1857 ” ” “
Eliza ” . ” . 1860 ” ” “

John De Velling. Gunner. 1821 Penzance, Cornwall.
Sarah ” ” . Wife. 1839 Portsmouth, Hampshire.
Frederick W ” ” . Son. 1860 Lancing, Sussex.

Just looking at the dates of birth of the children you can tell they moved about quite regularly, and a number of the locations were in fact towns with their own fortifications similar to the Shoreham Redoubt, while the Woolwich Royal Artillary barracks are known as the home of the Royal Artillary, and, as any Arsenal fan will tell you, where the nickname of ‘The Gunners’ comes from, as they were originally the ‘Woolwich Arsenal’.
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By the time of the 1871 census, it seems curious that there are far fewer families living at the redoubt, just Bombadier Robert Suggett with his wife, Elizabeth, and Gunner John Bicknell, with his wife, Jane, and daughter, Helen. However, there is still the widespread mix of locations from which the Artillary men originate.
1871 Shoreham Redoubt Census report

George Austin. ———- Corporal Royal Artillary. ———– 1837 Shepherdswells, Kent.
Robert Day. ————- Bombadier R A. —————— 1838 Scotland.
Samuel Adams. ———- Gunner R A. ———————- 1841 Liss, Norfolk.
George Hillier. ———— Gunner R A. ———————- 1833 Steeple Ashton, Wilts.
Richard Moulding. ——— Gunner R A. ———————- 1835 Penrith, Cumberland.
John Seymour. ————- Gunner R A. ———————- 1833 Shafford.
Cornelius Shea. ———— Gunner R A. ———————- 1830 Surrey.
John Bicknell. ————– Gunner. R A. ———————- 1833 Willand, Surrey.
Jane Bicknell. —————- Wife. —————————- 1845 Wiltshire.
Helen Bicknell. ————— Daughter. ———————– 1870 Cheriton, Kent.

Robert Suggett. ————- Bombadier R A. —————– 1831 Scotland.
Elizabeth Suggett. ————–Wife. ————————– 1833 Ireland.

Robert Taylor. ————– Master Gunner R A. ————– 1831 Woolwich, Kent.

After checking through the census records, I discovered that John and Jane Bicknell had two more children after Helen, both of them born in Shoreham. The 1881 census shows Jane Bicknell, now a widow, living with Helen, John, and William A Bicknell, in Queen street, Honiton. John, (1872), and William, (1875), places of birth given as Shoreham, Sussex, so it would appear that John and his family were stationed there for at least four years. Unfortunately this family story has a sad ending, as the three children are listed as, ‘Inmates’, living in a Union House by the 1891 census, so I can only presume their mother, Jane, had died by then too. Union House is just another name for a Workhouse, very unpleasant places to be forced to live in.

1881 Shoreham Redoubt Census report.

James Kerr. ————–Corporal Royal Artillary.—————–1837 Ireland.
Mary Kerr. ———————–Wife. ————————— 1845 Ireland.
Mary Kerr. ——————–Daughter. ————————– 1872 Ireland.
Matilda Kerr. ——————— “. ——————————- 1874 Maker, Cornwall.
Richard Kerr. ——————-Son. —————————— 1876 St Ives, Cornwall.
Daniel E Kerr. ——————- ” .——————————– 1878 St John, Cornwall.
Eugenie M Kerr. ————– Daughter. ————————— 1880 St Germans, Cornwall.

George Davis. ————– Bombadier R A.———————– 1843 Windsor, Bucks.
Annie Davis. ——————– Wife. —————————– 1858 Woolwich, Kent.
Annie Davis. —————— Daughter. ————————— 1881 Shoreham, Sussex.
Annie (Guire?). ————- Mother in law. ————————- 1823 Buckinghamshire.

James Beines. —————Gunner R A. ————————— 1840 Killyman, Ireland.
John Moore. —————-Gunner R A. ————————— 1837 Tunbridge, Kent.

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James Kerr and his family turn up in Littlehampton by the 1891 census, and it makes explains a bit more

1891 Littlehampton census:-
Address:-
Battery House, Pier road, Littlehampton

James Kerr. —————- Sergeant R A.————————– 1838 County Antrim, Ireland.
Mary Kerr. ——————–Wife——————————— 1847 County Antrim. Ireland
William Jas. Kerr.——- Son.– Scholar.—————————– 1871 County Antrim, Ireland.
Daniel E Kerr. ———- Son.– Scholar.—————————– 1878 Plymouth, Devon.
Eugenie M Kerr. —–Daughter.-Scholar.—————————– 1881 Ditto. No 4 Redoubt.
Edward M Kerr.——– Son.—Scholar.—————————– 1884 Shoreham, Sussex.
Edith Agatha Kerr. —Daughter.-Scholar.—————————– 1885 Littlehampton, Sussex.
Victoria Kerr.———Daughter.-Scholar.—————————– 1888 Littlehamton, Sussex.

So it would appear, (with Eugenie born at the Redoubt posting in Devon in 1881, Edward being born in Shoreham, 1884, then Edith, born Littlehamton, 1885), that James and his family were stationed at Shoreham for about three years before he was relocated to the Littlehamton Redoubt. James lived out the remainder of his life in Littlehampton, his Probate listing him as a Sussex Army Pensioner, having died on the 31st December 1912, leaving his widow, Mary £217 17 shillings, and 7 pence.

The census reports have built up a picture of life in the Royal Artillary, for some of the Coastal Redoubt Forces at least, and their movements around the country’s coastline defencive fortifications that they manned during their service. This is all I have unearthed so far, but hopefully miliatry records will add to the story later on, but I think that may take a little more digging. Also, Victorians were sticklers for keeping records of everything, so I’d be surprised if there aren’t extensive logs gathering dust somewhere to tell us of the building of these fortifications, the costing, and who carried out the work.

December stuff

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19-12-2011

The Fische staircase

Me and Fred finally got the staircase out from its original position and swung it round into the new stairwell we’d created, with a bit of help from a block and tackle, an occasional mopped brow, and almost no swearing! We’d both been of the opinion it might need a few more bodies throwing at it, but come the time, once we’d given the job a few coats of looking at and worked out the logistics, we just got on with it between the two of us. Unfortunately, once the stairs were in the new position it was apparent we’d have to jiggle things around a bit to get some suitable headroom, but that would have to wait until the next day, so mission half accomplished at the time, but it had been a good days collar, and the main target of freeing up the midships for Sams 40th party had been achieved, all good.

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One nil to the referee

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Along at the Amex on Saturday the wheels had well and truly come off the wagon after just 12 minutes of play, with the Albion down to nine men. Play had been stopped by the ref in about the fourth minute, nothing seemed to be happening so the crowd began amusing itself, each of the stands singing across to each other, when suddenly you could sense something was wrong by the reaction of the fans closest to the situation, only to realise next that Vincelot had been given his marching orders, but what for? We could only guess it must have been words, but what was said we’ll probably never know, there’s only one word I’d like to hear the refs views on, and that’s ‘discretion’. He took the word of his fourth official apparently, and sent Vincelot off on the back of that, putting the Albion under the cosh just five minutes into the game. Then barely five minutes later Barnes is shown the door for a studs up challenge on Mc Cann, who should have found himself at least in the book for his reaction, right under the refs nose he’s on top of Barnes pushing him into the turf, but it would appear Mc Cann was wearing the wrong coloured shirt get a card at that point.

Football fans are not known for their love of officials at the best of times, but you can just imagine how far down this refs stock had gone by now, and that well known tuneful ballad, “the referee’s a wanker’ was soon booming around the stadium. I have to say, there was no short amount of confusion among us when Poyet decided to make two substitutions after just 20 minutes, taking off Lua Lua and Harley, replaced by Noone and Navarro, it didn’t make sense, down to nine men and with 70 minutes or more left, but what do we know?. Not long after that, Burnleys numerical advantage turned itself into a goal in the 32nd minute, it took only seconds for the ground to almost sing as one, “one nil to the referee”, which soon faded to be taken over by the tune to the Great Escape which once it got going, seemed as if it was never going to end, the stadium was absolutely bouncing. I’ve never known an atmosphere so good for a defeat, it was pure siege mentality, and the Albion fans in every stand were behind it.

As one wave of attacks after another surged towards the Albions goal, so the team repelled all comers one way or another in a collossal display of guts if not glory, but towards the end it seemed as if a miracle might be on the cards. For all of Burnleys possession and time in our half, they hadn’t been able to add to their lone goal, while the Albion began breaking out and getting upfield, with chances coming to Mackail Smith, and Tarricco in the last ten, with an absolute beauty of a chance falling to Mackail Smith right at the death, if he’d tucked it away the ground would have shook and the roof been lifted by the fans, but such was not to be. All in all, I very much doubt anyone that was there will forget such an atmosphere for a losing side in any great hurry, the best defeat I’ve ever witnessed.

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Spilling the seed

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I had the misfortune to hear of an incident where someone poured pure verbal vitriol and spite onto a person ill equipped through health reasons to do anything about it, other than leave the situation. It amounted to bullying effectively, and as we all know, a bully is just another term for gutless coward. My ears pricked up as the story was recounted to me, the offender actually believing that the ability to upload his seed amounted to a life achievement, and airing that worthless thought while simultaneously informing his object of abuse that he had achieved nothing, purely on the basis of not having sired a child. (He said far worse, but there’s no need to advertise the extremity of his venom here). What kind of a fool actually believes that bullshit. Your achievement is as a parent, and how you go on to bring that child up, not the ability to perform an action that every single male member of the human species was designed to do. I’ve known plenty of blokes down the years that have displayed an ability to sire children, often all over the place, and a great deal of whom I’d say mankind would have been better served by them being neutered before they could spread their pestilent seed, it makes you weep for humanity that so many women fall for these bar fly fathers with their cock sure demeanour, pun intended.

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Tommy Tippets Solo Atlantic row

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Earlier on in the year, Tommy joined us on the Devil for a trip across the channel, as part of his training for the impending Atlantic crossing from the Canary Islands to Barbados. We’ve been following his progress ever since that trip across to St Valerie. He started off the week before last, unfortunately he’s had a minor setback, and is currently back on the island of La Gomera awaiting his second bite of the cherry, but he keeps a blog, so here you are:-

Tommys blog:-

It has been 8 days since I set off from La Gomera at the start of the Talisker Whisky race and I must admit, I didn’t expect to be where I am 8 days on. It also seems much more like 8 weeks than 8 days. But, for all that has happened, I currently find myself sitting on the side of a small marina in the ‘Port’ of El Estaca on the island of El Hierro, currently without money, shoes or any respectable items of clothing (not that this is too much of a problem).

Before I describe the events of the last week I will say that things are looking up and although currently not making much progress towards Barbados, it is not all over and I am planning to be back under way at the turn of the year.

The start of the race was delayed for 24 hours due to strong wind conditions prevailing through and it was felt that with the weather turning calmer over the following few days, a 24 hour delay would be in everyone’s best interests. So on Monday 5thDecember 17 boats set out of San Sebastian harbour and started the long trip across to Port St. Charles, Barbados.

For me, I could not have got a better start. Moderate winds from the NE set me moving well over the first 6 hours. Boat felt good as did I, there was onslaught of sea sickness that created big problems in the initial days for teams, and for the time I was at sea I was not once ill, something to be said for solo rowers etc. It also wasn’t exactly benign conditions.

I had got down to the South of the island by nightfall and set about getting into my routine quickly, something that is important to do early. I got my head down (again something that some people really struggle with, I was sleeping really well at sea) and awoke to find the winds had shift SE and were pushing me backwards towards the South of Gomera. Not an ideal start, but something I would have to deal with during the trip. I got back on the oars and was able to row against the wind (and a .5 knot current against) and tried to then make a bit of progress.

By midday on day 2 (Tuesday) the E/ESE/SE winds had kicked in and were pushing me W/NW when off watch. I had the para anchor out and for the rest of the afternoon and would still drift West towards El Hierro.

These conditions continued for the next 2 days and chances of a proper routine being established quickly vanished. I ended up rowing from about 0400-1100 when the winds were the lightest, make up what I had lost and try and head South. For those of you following my route, you can see it wasn’t exactly plain sailing! It became hugely frustrating still being able to see Gomera to the North, and only by day 5 was I out of sight of land both at day and night.

Day 5 came in and the winds had dropped, the sea has a lot calmer and I was able to break out of the small area I had found myself in for the previous 3 days. I made good progress on Friday with no help from the conditions (although to me this seemed like bliss as it wasn’t wind/current against) and my aim was to get to the South of El Hierro before the strong NE’s kicked back in on Friday night. This would mean I could just run with the weather, rather than trying to fight it to go South to miss the island.

Friday night and I was set and ready for the big weather to really accelerate away.

I woke for my 0400 shift and started to make slow progress with little weather around to help. It was during this 3 hour shift that the weather built and by 0900 the NE’s were blowing 20-25 knots and the swell was rising to about 15ft. It was at this time that the problem on the boat was becoming noticeable. In the weather that we were experiencing, the only thing a rower can do is put the stern to wind and weather and go with it. This is where you will get the most miles and can reach over 10 knots surfing the big swells that you get. The problem I was facing was that in these conditions, by boat would not sit down wind and instead sit beam (side) on to the conditions. With the weather that was coming through, this was going to be a real problem as it is when the boat is beam on that it can be capsized (in most cases) For 24 hours straight I was trying absolutely everything to turn the boat stern into wind and face down the swell, but there seemed to be nothing I could do.

I spoke to Simon (Chalk, race duty officer) at around midday who offered some advice on getting the boat travelling forward, but none of his advice seemed to work. I also called one of the guys who rowed the boat last race and Charlie Pitcher, another solo rower, but none of the advice offered by these guys again seemed to work. At this point the weather was getting pretty big and a couple times there had been a danger of capsizing, so I was back on anchor, with bow to wind and all the weather hitting the bow and deck.

Saturday night was a long night. I found out later that the support boat had experienced gusts of over 35 knots . It was slow going moving things around the boat, trying to change the weight at each end to see it that would make a difference.

Simon had alerted the support boat of the difficulties I was in and arrived up at where I was about around 0630 Sunday morning, day 7. I had been through almost 24 hours without any sleep and hardly any food and was knackered. I wasn’t too far from the South of El Hierro island and with the wind/swell forecast to get stronger (a big low pressure system of the UK was sending 15m swells down this way) I took the decision to take a tow to the port than try and continue and risk getting lifted off a capsized boat which could well have set adrift. It was easily one of the most difficult decisions of my life by with the benefit of hindsight by all means the right one.

So this brings us to where I am now. Fortunately Woodvale still have a few cars down here with trailers, and I have someone coming across now to trailer the boat back to La Gomera.

I have spent the last 2 days speaking to everyone and anyone who has had anything to do with the boat and the common consensus is is that it is a weight issue more than anything else. What is quite likely is that being a boat built for pairs, it is just not heavy enough with just me in it and my kit. There is talk of centreboards and autohelms etc. It is also to do with the trim of the boat, where the weight is sitting. This obviously should well have been something I should have squared away, the problem is it is very difficult to train in winds of the strengths I was in as I would not have any way of getting back…this is the thing with ocean rowing, it is harder to train for it than it is to actually just go and head one way!

As I mentioned at the start, this is by no means the end. I am heading back to Gomera with the boat and will spend the next few weeks getting this issue of weight sorted out, and will know for sure if it is something more than weight that is the problem. There are a couple of boats leaving la Gomera in January, one is another Talisker entrant who had to pull out early, and with Woodvale’s work teams boat coming through in February, it is not going to be quiet out there.

It is early days with setting off in January, but I will know for certain by then if it is a problem I can solve, which hopefully it will be, and should be. Fingers crossed. Anyway 2 days ago I had it in my head I had another year to go before another attempt.

Charlie Pitcher, the guy who rowed JJ in 2009 in 52 days, offered some kind words. He said that in sailing it is not uncommon to have teams head out in big races with the wrong set-up on a boat and be forced back.

Will keep you up to date with my movements over the next few weeks, and how things are progressing.

Thank you to everyone for your messages and support, it is truly appreciated and has really helped over these last few days.

As I say, fingers crossed. I suppose this is all just another chapter in the book…