Brighton Kite Festival – 7 – 8 July 2007

Thursday morning was spent packing the Espace full to bursting point, and then two of us set off to Brighton Kite Festival two days early. Having guzzled four gallons of Crofter's at Teston, there were those who felt we should get more of the same. However, going via Hastings Old Town would add substantially to our journey, so we thought we'd stock up at Middle Farm instead.

Won't do that again. Whilst the range of ales they have is unbeatable, they are somewhat pricey - £1.80 per pint for the Crofters compared with £2.30 per pint with Middle Farm. And the bottled beers were just as bad. Whilst the range is very good, it's again 50p per bottle more. However, time was pressing so we stumped up for the beer and continued on to Peacehaven where we were met with a most excellent tea, and we sat down with the girls to watch "Shrek 2" and "Hookwinked" until "the very nice man from PeacehavenTM " arrived when we carried on watching the films. The girls went beddy-byes and we sat chatting and then got the cards out and invented a new poker hand - the "manky straight" in which the hand is a straight which is missing the necessary jack, but then wins by mistake because of the full house or two pairs that the player didn't see. "Manky straights" won two hands that night, and as the wine, whisky and port had been consumed to excess we waddled off to kip around 1.30am.

 

Despite having been asked not to arrive before mid day on the Friday, many people had set up camp the previous evening. In fact by the time we arrived at about 10am, most of the bottom of the field was full of campers already. For the last five years we've always camped at the top of the slope at Stanmer park, but it had been mentioned by several people that we were too far away from all the action at the bottom of the hill. This year we planned to set up at the bottom of the hill, and so we did. In a hurricane.

 

I must admit that as we set up I had reservations about the location. Even once we were all set up I was still seriously considering chucking all the gear back in the Espace and driving back up the hill. But variety is the spice of life, and so I steeled myself to give this new location.

There was a minor hiccup with the new-style tent technology. Is it a tent or a Teenage Mutant Hero Turtle costume?

 

 

Before long the rest of our party had arrived and we thought we'd make the most of the wind before the normal people arrived tomorrow. Kat got dragged around the field by a Super-10 for half an hour before we went for tea. Chicken pasta went down very well, and it was at this point I found one of the benefits of our new location. The toilets had hot running water and huge sinks in which I could do the washing up. What usually takes ages was done in a few minutes. But everyone else had figured this out years ago, and one of the drawbacks of our new location was the seemingly endless stream of people through our camp to get to the loos. Our new location was certainly in the thick of it, and whilst it was good to meet new friends from France and the Isle of Wight, it was somewhat disconcerting to find that people we barely knew were sending people we didn't know into our tent because it was "the bar". At one point I had some stranger asking me where the red wine was. "Probably in your caravan" I told him and carried on with my pint. Whilst I do want to be everyone's mate, I'm stuffed if I'm going to be providing a free bar (yet again).

As the evening wore on, far too much ale was downed, and about 1am it was bed time. One of many things I dislike about camping is the lack of facilities so it was good to be able to have a late night shower before going to kip.

 

 

As the wind had slackened off somewhat from yesterday's hurricane it was safe to put up our banners. The simple job of putting up five banners took half an hour before it was time for me to take up my post. Provided someone who knows what they are doing sets up the large kites, I'm very happy to look after them, re-launch them when they crash, etc. It's a great job. I get to be at the top of the hill all day long, flying the biggest kites going. I get to see all of the festival going on around me, the organised events in the arena, the skilled kiters flying the fun kites, the general public tying it all up in knots. It's great. I even get my dinner & beers fetched up to me and have some quality time with my eldest nephew. It's the best job in the festival. And best of all, I don't actually have to do very much. The kite pretty much flies itself. Periodically I give the line a bit of a tug to make it look like I know what I'm doing, and all the normal people think I'm wonderful. At one point the nice man from the paper came up to me and asked to interview me. Before I could get a single word in edgeways he'd set up his video camera, positioned me where he wanted me and strapped me up with a microphone. So I thought I'd have a bit of a laugh with him. "OK" he said, "tell me in your own words why you are doing this". So I stared into hs camera and said in a monotone "my - name - is - david - and - on Saturdays - if - I - take - the - special - tabliks - they - let - me - out - of - the - hospickal - until - tea - time - but - I - have - to - be - back - by - tea - time - or - the - nurse - has - to - call - the - policeman - cos - of - wot - happened - last - time -…" As the colour drained from the chap's face I grinned and asked if he'd like me to do it properly. Oh how we laughed. You can see the final result on line at Thousands Flock To Kite Festival (from The Argus) and I'm told it made the local papers.

 

 

 

 

After a while we took the octopus kite off and just flew the Manta Ray. It was pulling like a train, and when the normal people weren't watching we played zip-lines with it. When the youngsters were about we used the lift to raise them up a foot or so and explained about how the ancient Chinese used to do man-lifting for military purposes.

All too soon the day's kiting was over and we packed the stuff away and made our way back down the hill. Saturday night is the traditional BKF barbeque and after some pretty stunning scoff Simon formally awarded me the BKF pin for my help over the weekend. As I say, the best job at the festival, I got an award AND they paid for my tea. Can't be bad.

 

Sunday was one of those days. It started badly at 1am when some brat was running around the camp site in tears and screaming fits. When it finally shut up, the noisy conversation right outside my tent started. When that stopped, the brat had another fit. And so the night wore on. Another drawback of being in the centre of things. It was gone 4am before I got some quiet. And to add insult to injury everyone else slept through the noise.

But I was going to be up the hill again flying the big kites, so life would be good. We put up the Manta Ray and the teddy, and before long a chap set up to our right. He put up a lifter, the shark, and the duck pictured here, and then he shoved off and left it there. As his line flew over, under and around ours I desperately heaved and hauled in order to avoid collisions, but eventually there was the crossing that needed him to haul on his line. And because he'd shoved off, he couldn't. So the whole lot knotted up and crashed. Then he appeared, all stressy about crashing his kites. I smiled a lot, we re-launched. He added a smaller inflatable teddy and shoved off again. I hauled heroically but after ten more minutes his stuff was unavoidable and so another crash ensued. And he appeared again muttering as he added yet more stuff to leave unattended. After about the twentieth crash of his causing, his kite cut off our lifter kite. My nephew told me that he found it, but it was Batty who retrieved from the tree. It was during this episode that our "new found friend" offered to help us pack away the Manta. I told him that it didn't need packing away and that we'd still be flying. He wandered off muttering and wound in our main line for us. Once our lifer was retrieved I unwound our main line and re-launched. And….

 

Yes - you can guess. He'd shoved off again, his kites were all over the sky, it all crashed again. When he appeared this time I'd decided on no more Mr Nice Guy, and told him politely but firmly that all these crashes were entirely his fault because he kept wandering off and leaving his stuff unattended. He just looked blankly at me as though I was talking a foreign language and carried on leaving his stuff unattended. The next collision resulted in his lifter being cut off. I commented "one all" with a smile.

Eventually one of the normal people flew a 50p kite through the Manta's bridle destroying at least three of the bridle lines. I took this to be divine intervention. By the time we'd put the wreckage of the Manta away, loads more of the normal people had set up in our way. It was past 3pm, so I took the executive decision that most of the public had seen a huge kite, and furthermore seeing that Brian had gone to the trouble of lugging a gallon of ale to the top of the hill, it wouldn't be fair to carry it back down again. So we packed all the gear back into the trailer, hitched the trailer back onto the Land Rover, and guzzled a gallon of ale whilst watching the world go by.

 

All too soon the world had gone by, and it was back to camp. Tea time - fajitas!! A particular favourite of mine. Three of those, more ale and then one of our kiting friends asked if we'd like to play with his man-lifter. I wouldn't touch it with a barge pole, but I know people who would……

 

 

 

It would seem the noisy element went home On the Sunday night as I slept well. After a good breakfast I decided it is handy having the hot water nearby for the washing up. It was on my third trip to the toilets to do washing up that the heavens opened. For the last few weeks the weather has been on the wet side, and we were so lucky to have had such glorious weather over the weekend. But, for the third kite festival in a row we put away our camp in the rain. The tents were sodden, the ground was becoming a swamp. Normally I leave Stanmer Park with a sense of sadness. This morning it was with a sense of relief that we'd got so much away dry. However we had three wet tents. As we drove home and my passenger snoozed I speculated on what nights we could use the scout hut to dry the canvas. Once I'd formulated my plans I realised the rain had stopped. In fact the closer to home we got, the drier it seemed. Ashford was in glorious sunshine and I managed to dry out all three tents on the washing line this afternoon. Well, to be honest, on two washing lines as "Er Indoors" managed to snap the washing line when she tried to put towels on it as well as tent.

Same time next year? Definitely! But where? The top of the hill is just too far away from what's going on at the bottom. The bottom of the hill has the shower block, running hot water for the washing up, close to everyone else, but it's close to everyone else, too close, too noisy and it did get swampy when it rained.…. How about trying half way up the hill?