Rockingham Castle
12th-13th May 2001

"Do a really good write up," said Sonic, "so everyone who didn't come knows what they missed."

Ok, so no pressure then!

Saturday Morning

There I was, driving along with map clutched in one hand, directions from 'Orders' gripped in the other, fag clenched firmly between gritted teeth, determined not to get lost for once, and generally minding my own business. Then I spied a tatty reprobate slouching along the path wearing distinctly 17th century clothes. "Ah, poor soul," I thought, and stopped to pick him up. Had I realised it was Curly Dave I might have just driven past!

Lyn helped me put up my tent - doing the sister thing. It won't last. Then I mooched around with my sword until someone took pity on me and started a sword school. Things were going well until:-

Well, I would like to take this opportunity to steadfastly maintain that what followed was an ACCIDENT. Honestly. I will swear on a bible, or anything else that is held sacred. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!! Yes I swung the sword, no I wasn't looking, and yes I hit Dave in a delicate area. I'M SORRY. Although in my defence, he did say ages ago that if we ever hit him it would be his fault. And on reflection it's the first time I've ever beaten him!

Later on Suze and I sat down and organised our evening - drink, get drunk, fall down. That planned we rushed to form up, stood around in the sun, marched down to the castle, stood around in the shade, then marched through the gap in the castle wall and down the slope to the battlefield. I must confess I hadn't realised that the pike men had defected to the covenanters with Tower Hamlets, and only cottoned on when I saw Lyn and Mrs Pillow following the enemy. By then I was so busy picking up Bob every time he was shot by unfriendly musket fire (which was every time they fired), and picking up Zoe every time she fell over Bob, and forcing re-hydrate down Neil's throat, and trying to run up the cliff face they laughingly call a hill, that I was beyond caring. Backed right up to the castle wall, we had a choice of dying in the stinging nettles or running through them to get to safety. One mad dash later we were on the castle lawn, only to be mown down by the enemy anyway as they poured over the wall.

Saturday Afternoon / Evening

Back in camp, hot, sweaty and dehydrated, everyone collapsed in contented heaps before getting ready to go to the pub, which was putting on a BBQ in the beer garden, along with an outside bar and musical entertainment. To start the evening off on the right foot we celebrated the promotions with depth charges, thereby seeing Mark Eakins, Phil and Mr. Rabbitts on the slippery slope to drunkenness.

As the evening progressed more depth charges were bought, including one for Bob, who admitted it was his first for the Blews, and one for the Lord General, who downed it in four or five attempts, while his wife looked on, muttering anxiously "he doesn't normally drink very much!" That could explain why he fell off the table straight afterwards, to be neatly fielded by Kirky before he hit the ground. Sonic and Margaret were also bought one, as were Kirky, Mum and Amanda. I have never seen anyone down a pint as quickly as Mum, and defy anyone to challenge her to a drinking contest! By now most of the regiment were quite merry. Bob decided that flashing the L.G. would be a good idea, so Margaret placed herself on Modesty Control and followed him round pulling up his breeches, doing up his fly, and even dressing him in a skirt - of which there is photographic evidence.

There was an offer from some strolling minstrels - they would play for drinks. This was quickly shouted down, and first Bob, then Henry followed by the L.G. showed the rest of the beer garden that we could provide our own entertainment - by singing, I hasten to add, although the sight of Bob dancing with everything which moved, followed by everything that didn't, having a spitting contest with Laura (she won), and finally falling asleep on Jo's chest was certainly an alternative form of entertainment.

It was roughly halfway through the evening when I began to suspect that Sam was a bit tipsy. It was the way he took my drink and cigarette away from me and then tried to turn me upside down that gave it away - failing miserably I might add. Then he and Mark Eakins blew - yes, blew! - on my cigarette until there was nothing left, and hid the rest of the packet. Obviously neither of them were at the Fort for the last night when Curly Dave was beaten to within an inch of his life for doing just that. Mind you, the port was stolen at the same time then, so Suze and I may have over reacted slightly.

Highlight of the evening for most of the male Blews came when Sam turned Suze upside down. I must admit that if I hadn't been quite so drunk I probably wouldn't have told the world that she wasn't wearing any knickers, and she wouldn't have been turned upside down again so many times. Sorry Suze.

Then the evening came to an end - at least for Lyn, Tessa, Mark B and I. We decided enough was enough and strolled gently to the end of the pub car park where we found Sarah being very ill over the wall with a concerned Neil wondering how he was going to get her back to camp. Problem solved. He grabbed one arm and Mark B grabbed the other, and they practically carried her between them. It wasn't until I started walking that I realised how drunk I was, and although I would like to skip the rest of the evening, I have been threatened with all sorts of punishments if I miss out the flying bit. It was only a momentary thing. My brain lost the connection with my legs and became confused - yes, I know it doesn't take a lot. Seeing as I was obviously moving but I no longer had legs, the logical conclusion was that I was flying. If I flapped my arms slowly I veered to the right, if I flapped them hard I shot off to the left. Soon I was shooting from side to side, giggling hysterically but totally unable to walk in a straight line. Luckily there was lots of room and we weren't at the top of that damn hill!

Sunday

Again, amazingly enough, I had no hangover. It'll catch up with me one day. Some sadist decided we were drilling, so off we trundled, down to the large flat airfield - sorry, I mean area, behind Living History, where Lyn and I sat in the shade and I had to chain smoke to keep away the gnats (any excuse) and watched everyone else run about in the sun. One musket block working in perfect harmony (kind of) with three shady characters tagging along at the back wielding half pikes. Firing got quite interesting, with a small competition developing between Henry, Mike Jeal and Curly to see who could javelin their half pikes the furthest. Unfortunately Mike had a misfire and was subsequently disqualified. Curlys hang fire could have been disastrous, going off by Sonic and Mark Eakins as it did!

Trish disappeared off to do her musket test and returned triumphant. Huzzah!

Best bit of drill was when volunteers were required and hands shot up without anyone asking what they were volunteering for. That definitely epitomizes the spirit of the Blews, and Neil and Bob were subsequently picked to help us ladies fill the water bottles. One short water fight later (Neil had control of the hose), and Bob declared that I was the winner of the wet T-shirt contest. Could have been because I was the only one who was wet!

Yes! Another sword school. Dave, out of self-preservation, quickly palmed me off on Neil who had cut the bottom of his foot but still managed to hack me into little pieces. Quickly tiring of the by now ancient art of "Hit the Helen", he took me back to Dave who made me fight Mark B. And I didn't chop anything off anyone. A small step in the right direction I feel!

Form up was later than the previous day as no one fancied standing around for quite so long. I declined to go down the hill again, leaving it to Lyn and Fil, and stood by the wall watching the pyrotechnics man do his stuff. They can misfire too. Scary!

By the time the block had retreated to the castle lawn both Kirky and Mark B had disappeared to Medics to be liquefied. Or something. Kirky came back out, but Mark had to sit out the rest of the battle. The re-hydrate level was dropping rapidly down the bottle by the time everyone died (again), and I was busy watering the dead when I was suddenly distracted by Mark Eakins and Curly facing an entire regiment and being asked if they wanted quarter. Silly question really. They both charged, got about three steps and hit the deck faster than Dolly the sheep with Foot and Mouth. Shaking my head and sighing resignedly I returned to the unenviable task of trying to force water down Bobs throat and re-hydrate down Neil's.

It was only after the dead had risen and reformed that Sonic admitted to feeling slightly unwell and slid gracefully to the floor where he was stripped of the majority of his clothes and belongings by the ladies of the Blews. Yes guys, that's what you have to do to be undressed by the Camp Follower of your choice. He then proceeded to drink the rest of the re-hydrate and recovered sufficiently to stagger to the shade of a large hedge, which he sat beneath while he downed three litres of water. A small child turned to its parent and said "Mummy, what's wrong with that man?" Mummy turned round to look, then replied, "Don't worry dear, it's only play acting." By this point Sonic had turned bright red and I was looking for the nearest medic

We hiked back to camp, letting the block go the long way while Sonic and I took the short cut. Most people had already packed up, and after a suitable relaxation period during which I smoked a lot of Sonic's cigarettes and placed bottles of water beside the most dehydrated looking, everyone drifted off, all agreeing on one thing - it was a damn good muster.!