Margam Park
4th - 6th May 2002

A Pikeman's View

"What has Wales ever done for us", as Mr Eakins was heard to remark.

Well, after the May Bank Holiday at Margam Park, a suntan will be on most people's list (though that's probably not a great bonus if you're a goth). Anyhow, as the bruises of the encounters with the Royalists start to fade, this seems to have acquired that rosy tint in the memory of a pleasant muster in the sun.

Timothy Taylor's Landlord in the beer tent ensured a great Saturday night opener. And I can't remember any more about it (especially not the diversion to the food vans for baked potato and mushy peas) no matter how many times Fil reminds me.

The new day dawned and we trooped off to what was billed as a rehearsal for the battle. With a certain amount of ironic humour the Royalists didn't appear, so the Parliament Army practised advancing towards an imaginary enemy at a speed approaching that of an 'asthmatic ant with heavy shopping'. Reprimands were duly issued for talking in the ranks during this epic, though the prime candidates were mostly those in a position to know better (oops!).

Anyhow, we then moved on to the main event of the morning. Monsieur Lapin had challenged Manchester's to a pike pushing competition and, possibly encouraged by a 4-1 lead established against the Magnificent Seven pikemen at Moira, Manchester's duly took up the gauntlet. The losing block's officer to buy a bottle of brandy and crate of beer at the end of the season for the winning block. After an initial drawn push, the Blews clawed back a couple of points against what all agreed was a very solid Manchester's block.

At this point the rest of the Bristol contingent, which had spent some effort to time their arrival until after drill, turned up.

So we promptly had a pike meeting. This allowed M Lapin to sent forth the new focus on recruitment and raising standards. I explained how drill will work: postures, manoeuvres, battle drill on the first day, Brigade drill on the second day. Mr Jeal explained the focus on kit, starting with red coats (well done Danny); then armour, then tassets and then footwear. Though John Harris has volunteered to get hold of the army surplus boots that Curly Dave has converted (by replacing the laces with a thong) for anybody at £25 a pop. Finally M Lapin said that the display pikes would be available later this season. He also introduced the practise of cleaning pikes after the battle (of which more later).

The discussion on back & breast and tassets (which apparently make excellent shelves according to Jason the Handyman) prompted a further round of frantic armour trading by Blabber. He bought and sold at least one set during the week-end as well as a helmet and was later seen discussing purchases with Horse, including the use of off-balance sheet financial vehicles to fund the acquisition of a set of Madregal armour, with a reverse convertible option on tassets.

By now we had assembled a sixteen strong block, which is something like an 80% turn out. And a back rank including Mike Jeal, Mr Gordon, Mel and Paisley involved some prodigious numbers of years (73?) in the Knot and nearly equal number of stones in weight. Remember "it's not because we're better trained that they are,...."

Numbers were indeed sufficient for some debate over four versus three wide to ensue. The decision was in favour of three because: (i) the chance of drop-outs on the first day of the first Major muster, especially given the rapidly rising temperature, was high; (ii) the average size of the enemy blocks was (rather over-optimistically) believed to be relatively low, indicating they would also be fighting three wide.

A 2.30pm form-up and only a short walk to the battlefield led to some further optimism over the likelihood of only a short wait until the off. The sight of Royalist regiments trooping past on their way to the battlefield swiftly shattered this idea and it was nearly an hour before the Army of Parliament finally surged (or rather oozed) over the slope.

A broad field lay before us, so we immediately packed into a corner and were joined by a large number of similarly agoraphobic Royalists for a good old fashioned bit of thug and bash. The combination of Rupert's Bluecoats and Earl Rivers' Blackcoats in a single block was our main opponent. This was a tough fight against solid opposition with perhaps a slight edge in numbers. Their chant of 'Black and Blues' was certainly appropriate. However, attacking down the slope five deep, including what must surely be the best back rank in the Knot, we fancied our chances against anything up to, and including, a dry-stone wall.

As a consequence, while the Black & Blues certainly had the best of some pushes, there was an increasing incidence of 'Daylight' as the front rank were battered through the opposing ranks and into the sunshine beyond.

The arrival of the King's Guard while providing something of a respite for the Black & Blues, was pretty relaxing for us as well. M. Lapin noticing the Irish had come up into the line (having crossed half the field in search of ourselves - isn't it nice to be wanted) remarked to their officer Pleb, that we would be over to fight the 'men' as soon as we had sorted out the 'boys'. This piece of arrogant macho boasting was being passed back through the Irish ranks just as the King's Guard were suddenly scythed down in front of them.

After a successful clash with the Irish, we then dealt with the King's Guard again. I came through the other side of the Guard face to face with the Irish block, who I duly reached out and tagged, to their amusement...until the Guard fell backwards into them.

Unfortunately in a subsequent engagement, Andy, the very tall pikeman in the Irish, twisted his leg as they went down and popped his knee cap. He went to hospital and will be out of action for this season. A great pity and a sobering reminder of the risks. Not that he was sober when we saw him later in the beer tent ! Top bloke.

That left us facing a very depleted Irish block (minus Andy and stretcher-bearers), the Guard and Northampton's. As a consequence M. Lapin took the decision for an early bath and we scuttled off over the hill back to the campsite in a fraction of the time it took to make the outward journey.

The evening was a rather disorganised affair as it proved impossible to get food, a dog, children and more than half the regiment in one place at one time despite the best efforts of Darrell in ferrying everybody to and fro. The pub I ended up in rapidly emptied of locals as Blew regiment went through its repertoire and then led by Short Straw (ably supported by Bic) added some new numbers from Rocky Horror. Back in the beer tent the Landlord had run out, but by cunningly switching to the Warsteiner I was still able to render myself ridiculous before heading back to the tents (apparently without a craving for mushy peas this time - as Fil informs me).

Morning saw an impromptu drill session for Steve Bland and Fil on the art of handling the pike, because what would normally have been Drill was instead a lot of mucking about. A photo opportunity for the entire Knot was followed by the Grand Old Duke of York deciding that the Army of Parliament would look even prettier standing half-way up a hill. Despite much sulking, pouting and dragging of feet, we end up posing for the holiday snaps of this megalomaniac.

Tempers were slightly assuaged by a pause on the return journey to continue the contest with those nice chaps and chapesses from Manchester's (4-4) and to pick up some ice lollies for the way back.

Despite M Lapin's kind offer to clean the pikes by himself, as a compliment to the block on their performance of the previous day, he was joined by a few others in giving the pikes a quick wipe down with some oil. This caused quite a scene, with bystanders providing witty advice on how to oil one's weapon while several musketeers rushed off to get cameras to record the event for posterity.  I would like to add, though perhaps coincidental, we lost no pikes to breakages over the week-end.

When play resumed in the afternoon there were three missing from the first day: Mr Gordon with old war wounds playing up; David Stickland having put his back out; and Paisley suffering from exposure (to camera film and idiots). However, on the other hand, Steve Bland joined us for the day to see how the other half fight. And Mr Stickland pottered along with the water carriers (carrying a helmet - just in case).

After a doze in the sun, we advanced over the hill and swept down towards the crowd. Only pausing to change direction towards the Royalists, who were hiding on a different side of the field from the previous day and thereby nearly eluded our cunning plan.

Battle commenced with an attack at charge against the King's Guard. This was spectacularly successful due to the Guard musketeers on the flank being swept away by a pell-mell attack by the entire Northern shot, followed up by our very own Blews musketeers returning to fall on the rear of the Guard pike in search of more Royalists to kill and eat. Very impressive.

A serious contest then ensued against the Guard pike block. They were much improved, being fronted by their better pikemen, while we had given up the slope and lacked half our Big Men at the Back. Touch and go a number of times, sheer determination (led by Jason as team cheerleader) and every available officer (including Mr Eakins) and one of our water carriers (Mr Stickland) carried us through.

And then suddenly we became becalmed. The mixed Northern block (definitely not Manchester's) decided to hog the action against the Guard and employed some shoddy tactics. So we were not prepared to be associated with them (and the Guard were starting to flag). What looked like Black and Blues were by then flagging against Manchester's (well done to them) and in no condition to entertain additional guests.

As far as the eye could see (about twenty yards for most in the pike block without their glasses) there were people enjoying ourselves, but not us, the lonely little Blew pike block, with no friends.

So M Lapin launched us through the centre of the Royalist army - we would go and find some friends. Indeed on the other side of the field were the Irish. Hurrah ! They were our friends and some nasty Royalists (yes, my Dear, the Irish were on our side on Monday - do try to keep up) were fighting them.

I am indebted to Danny's summary of subsequent events. "I don't mind fighting larger blocks and I don't mind fighting uphill, but Henry I don't think you should attack large blocks uphill". Not that I fell over, oh no, not with Jason bellowing "Stay on your Feet!" all the time.

Chaos ensued as we fought what could have been Gerard's or Lyle's (dark blue coats, and stars, I definitely saw stars and some tweety birds) and then Houghton?s & Co in the middle of the Royalist army. The decision at one stage to reform three separate blocks was in hindsight a mistake. However Short Straw and Mr Jeal still managed to reform us for the fight again and again. Not pretty, not (if you ever tried to score these things) very successful, but enough fun that we kept on getting up for the next one.

And then it was over and once again M. Lapin snuck us from the field.

Special mention to Gerry, whose first muster with the Blews seemed to be a roaring success. To Steve Bland, for joining us on the second day and when asked how it went, responding that he had already bought a helmet (from Blabber the arms trader). And of all the rest of the block who I've not mentioned individually but contributed to a great muster, I would finally like to say that I thought Mel done great !