Rhythm, But Not A Lot Of Riot

It was pitch black, blowing a gale and the rain was howling down, a night worthy of that scene in Rocky Horror, and I’m at the end of a long drive from “oop north to darn sahth” for a B movie kind of weekend in one of those prison style holiday camps best avoided. The last twenty miles or so are along a road full of unexpected twists and turns, my windscreen wipers doing double time and my eyes tired from peering into the inky black night. Finally a vision of gaudy blue and yellow neon looms out of the drizzle, signaling that we have arrived at our destination, Pontins, Camber Sands. The friendly guy on the gate directs us round to reception where we book in and receive our chalet keys and a wristband. We drive round the complex twice looking for Block 30. Once found, we have to find somewhere to park which isn’t too far away as we’ve got loads to carry to the chalet, including our own mattresses and bedding, four suitcases and several bags containing our food for the weekend. Not easy in the tiny slots which are at a very odd angle and the car to one side is taking up two spots. And wouldn’t you know it, we’re on the upper level, with the bottom of the stairway to our landing surrounded by a puddle the size of a small lake. We opened the door and tried to turn on the light. Nothing. We’d forgotten to purchase our electricity cards when we booked in. And it was freezing! Since the rain had stopped I suggested we worry about the electric later and concentrate on unpacking the car before it started again so at least the bedding stayed dry. I rearranged the bedroom, pulling the two single beds together and putting my king sized air mattress on top to inflate whilst I finished unpacking the car. We did try rearranging the lounge but thought the sofa bed might take up too much of the space. In the end, we found it wouldn’t have. Once the car was unpacked we trotted off to find our way back to reception, which turned out to be about 200 yards away. I don’t know how we’d missed it on our drive round earlier. To activate the card we had to climb on to the worktop to waft the card in front of the meter which was in the top corner of the wall cupboard. We now had light. Heating was provided by two small, ineffectual heaters. It was so cold Manda put on her big mohair jumper which made her look like a Minecraft character. Now we could see we set about sorting out our belongings. Then we took a good look around. Oh my goodness…..the bathroom! It was disgusting. There was a black scummy coating and some indeterminate splashes on the sink, the bath was scummy and had hairs in it, the toilet had poo streaks and the remains of a toilet roll had a big blob of poo on the edge! And no wonder it was cold, the bloody window was wide open! To say we were not impressed was an understatement. Photographs were taken. The kitchen turned out to be almost as bad as the bathroom, with a used roasting bag still inside the microwave, grease and food left on the cooker hob and dried egg on the plates. More photographs. Fortunately Manda was partly prepared, but not for a full scale deep clean. She was armed with cleaning fluid but only one cloth, which she was using to wipe down the kitchen; so there I was, giving the bathroom a deep clean using wads of our toilet paper. Its a good job we’d brought plenty with us. By the time we’d done we were feeling a little peckish so, whilst enjoying the first cocktails of the weekend, Manda got the chilli she’d pre-prepared and a bag of boil in the bag rice and served up a delicious dinner. Time to get ready for our first night out. We tarted ourselves up and headed over to the main venue. There were two dance halls, the downstairs one with music provided by a string of DJs, one of whom was a friend of Manda’s, which is why we’d opted to arrive on the Thursday. The upstairs one had the stage for the bands. We stayed downstairs and danced the night away until fatigue overtook us and forced us to retire somewhere around 2am. But, on returning to the flat, we found we’d already used half of our electric, We decided not to risk it running out on us whilst we slept so trudged wearily across to the main reception where we found the card dispenser was out of order, but at least the shop at the back of the arcade was open so we bought £10 worth on my now unfrozen bank card.  I had, on our journey down, had the embarrassment of trying to pay for petrol, only to have my card declined because it had been frozen by Paul ,who had managed to freeze my whole account when we were unable to find my credit card before I set off. We finally dropped into bed at 2.30am 

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Needless to say, we were late up the next morning. It was still chilly in our flat as we had turned the heating down to preserve our electric. Then Manda discovered that one of the kitchen windows was still open. We sat snuggled under the covers on the sofa bed drinking our coffee and deciding what to do for the day. Since we are both a tad geeky we plumped for Herstmonceaux Observatory and Science Centre, about an hours drive away. The large car park, which was heaving with all of five cars including ours, was a fair walk from the observatory. As we walked up the drive the place felt deserted. We entered the reception area where we had a pleasant chat with the lady behind the counter. Obviously, our first port of call were the toilets. However, this had to be postponed when we found them being used by a hoard of schoolchildren. Instead we started to explore the exhibits, all of which are hands on and fun to play with. Thankfully it wasn’t long before the schoolchildren left and we were the only people, apart from the staff, in the place. And even some of the staff were going home. We had a great time. We made sound-waves, played a theramin and an infrared harp, put an ear together and stretched our speech in the Good Vibrations Gallery. In the Forces Exhibition we created energy to turn on a light bulb and run a model train, swung pendulums, created a parabola in water, bounced magnetic trucks off each other and Manda sat on the vacuum lift (well, she would, wouldn’t she)? In the Light And Colour exhibition we played with the Plasma Globe, learned about fibre optics, peered through spectroscopes and shook hands with ourselves. We finished off in the Life Gallery where, to my utter shame and embarrassment, I failed miserably at putting the organs back into the torso, something I have done and taught on numerous occasions throughout my career! And I had no excuse other than my mind went a total blank. Manda, needless to say, put it back together with no effort. After a coffee and a very tasty sausage roll in the cafe we climbed the stairs up to the first dome to look at the huge telescope and learn about astronomy and time. We then had to brave the outdoors, where it was now raining heavily, to reach the second dome where, along with another telescope and a lot of history about the observatory and it’s short-lived importance, we found the magnificent Orrery. Back out into the rain for dome three, which was not quite as interesting but it is where they give the talks, which we chose not to attend as we were enjoying the science centre too much. We had a dark and rainy drive back to Camber Sands where we had to drive round a couple of times to find a parking spot. Back in the flat, which was finally toasty warm, we had a lounge about and something to eat before getting ready to go out for the night. Fortunately the rain had stopped as we made our way across to the venue around10pm. We left our furs in the cloakroom and wandered upstairs where we caught the end of a band set. Manda was a little surprised at how few people were there compared to previous years and commented on the lack of atmosphere. Mind you, there was still nowhere to sit or safely leave our handbags. In the end, between sets we nipped back to the flat and left the bags there. Now I am more curvy I have discovered I can put my money and lippy into my bra like Manda does. We returned to the venue and had a quick check of the DJs downstairs before drifting back upstairs to watch the live bands. We had a fair few dances that evening until, once again, fatigue took over. And blisters. Serves me right for not wearing socks with my dance shoes. By the time I got back to the flat I was hobbling, my feet hurt, my knees were stiff and my back didn’t want to support me any more. I struggles into my pyjamas, cleaned my face, said goodnight and crawled into bed.

Another slow start to the day with coffee and a breakfast of bacon, avocado and flatbread. Manda had decided before we even set off that Saturday was the day we were going into Rye. At least the rain had cleared up and a watery sun was trying to peep through the clouds.  As we were going into town we dressed in our going shopping best. Only I upset Manda when I came out of my room and commented that her suit also made her look like a Minecraft character. She got in a huff and decided to change. It was only the combination of colours that made me think of Minecraft, not that she looked like a cube for goodness sake! First stop was for more electric cards followed by a quick peruse around the “vintage” stalls selling the same “old” crap they’ve been trying to sell every year for the last decade at hugely inflated prices. Why on earth anyone would think that I’m going to pay 80 odd quid for an obviously home-made dress with sweat marks under the arms, just because it’s old…..sorry, vintage…..is beyond me. I like the era and the style, but not to that extent. Very occasionally I have come across a bargain. I did see a sweet little salt and pepper pot which I liked but decided to leave where they were. If they were still there the next time I looked I might buy them. We wandered up to the bus stop to wait for the vintage bus to take us into Rye. On finding that we had 25 minutes to wait we decided to take the car instead. A short drive into Rye and we found a convenient car park. We took the longer walk up into town taking in a couple of shops along the way. It is a quaint and pretty town with oodles of history which we didn’t have time to explore. We did however explore the countless antique and shabby chic shops which proliferate along the cobbled streets. We did get several admiring comments on our outfits as we wandered round. By half past three the sun was low in the sky and there was a definite chill in the air. We decided to find a tearooms where we could warm up over a pot of tea. The first we tried said it was closing at 4pm and they were already cleaning up. This was happening at several cafes and tearooms along the high street. Why is it that these “tearooms” all close at “teatime”? Just when most people are ready for a cuppa and cake AFTER they’ve finished shopping, of visiting the sights. We eventually found a couple which stayed open later and plumped for “Fletchers”. A good choice. On entering we were called over by two ladies we had spoken to earlier in a hat shop. They were just finishing and would we like their table by the fire. Well, what could we say? It would be churlish to refuse. Once we were settled we perused the menu. Manda chose the Bakewell tart and I opted for the scone with clotted cream and jam. Until I saw the bread and butter pudding set down on the next table. So I asked if I could have that as well. I got the last one. It was huge, filled with melted chocolate and came with a large jug of cream. I did share it with Manda. There was a good choice of teas as well. I like to treat myself when I can so went for the smokey Lapsang Souchong. After stuffing our faces we returned to the car the short way and headed off back to Pontins where I copied everyone else and found the way in to park the car below our flat. Time for a nap before going out. We didn’t want to go out too early as the band we wanted to see weren’t playing until 1.00am. And we only missed Si Cranstoun, who I can leave or leave. We listened and danced to a couple of bands before we began to feel peckish. We found the food outlet and had a tray of cheesy chips apiece. And, surprisingly for a holiday camp, it was real cheese melted, not that awful processed squirty stuff you get in most places. Once satisfied we followed the music into the Queen Vic pub where there was a cowboy band playing hoedown music. We wandered aimlessly back upstairs to find only a DJ, playing the usual runoff the mill stuff, and nowhere to sit. Back downstairs in the foyer, to one side of a purple piano, we spotted an empty cottage suite settee covered with a crocheted blanket. We sunk into it’s cushions with a grateful sigh. We hadn’t been there five minutes when this odd looking chap, bowler hat, colourful scarf, tailcoat and Doc Martens sat at the piano and started to play doodly jazz. Once he stopped playing Manda got into conversation with him. Very odd conversation it was too. We weren’t sure whether he was taking the piss or chatting her up. We opted for the former. Finally it was time to go back upstairs and listen to the band we had been waiting for. Unfortunately, despite our little rest, my feet were now beginning to throb. And Manda didn’t think I was enjoying the weekend as much as she hoped. I think I’m getting a little bored with 24/7 Rock ‘n’ Roll and spending weekends listening to mediocre circuit bands whilst waiting for the main attraction. And why on earth did the organisers think that putting the main headline band on at such a ridiculous hour was a good idea, I was almost too tired to enjoy their set. My mood wasn’t helped by a small group of “look at me, I should be on Strictly types” who, rather than go to the back of the dance floor, were trying to dance frenetically where people were standing listening to the band. There was one woman, not so young but trying to be, dressed in this silver dress, fringed with what looked like the shredded foil they used to throw out of planes to trick enemy radar during the war. Her long straggly hair was very loosely tied so she could flick it about trying to be perky and sexy. She wasn’t. And when one pair nearly knocked me flying I was not impressed. It wasn’t so bad when I was dancing but since Manda was also feeling the fatigue we weren’t dancing half as much as we used to. We left just before the encore and hobbled our way back to the flat where we fell gratefully into bed.

Up late again. It was a pleasant morning. We decided to forego breakfast and try to catch the Flea Market before it finished at noon. We arrived with about an hour to mooch around the stalls. Which was plenty of time. In my younger days it was called a jumble sale. I did pick up a rather nice Spanish cruet set for a fiver and a pair of black earrings. Since the main Vintage Market didn’t open until midday we wandered off site to a couple of vintage markets in the local community/church halls. Stuff was much cheaper here and I picked up a really nice Eastex jacket for £18 plus a couple of other little trinkets. By now the sun had come out and the afternoon was really pleasant. We took our purchases back to the flat, changed into jeans and jumpers, wrapped up warm and went for a walk on the beach. Aaaww shucks……we missed watching the hotrod cruise from Pontins to Rye. I know it’s not what I should be saying but after 40 odd years I’m beginning to get bored of looking at cars. There aren’t that many about these days which really stand out. Loads of “I spent £10,000 on a paint job to make my car look like it just came from a scrapyard” types. All with the proud owner wearing the obligatory one brace hanging down dungarees and flat cap, chewing on a piece of grass and trying to look like he’s just walked off the set of “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou”.  Or the shiny, chrome laden fifties cars which come fully equipped with one of three options. The “how the hell did she get into those capri pants” with the gingham peasant blouse and Bettie Page hair. The pants can be substituted for “wiggle dress/skirt in leopard print. The second option is the Freddie’s land girl style jeans worn with a jumper/top and bandana, often teamed with huge cats-eye glasses and exotic handbags. And finally there is the full circle skirt and netty-petty look (the one I generally favour, it hides a multitude of sins and I don’t have to wear a girdle), with the victory rolls, snoods and flowers or a simple pony tail with flowers. And do people not check every angle in the mirror before going out? So, leaving all the car fumes and posing behind we found our way to the bottom of a huge sand dune. Which we had to scale to reach the beach. Climbing that mountain of sand made us feel the accumulated effects of the weekend so far. I must have stopped a dozen times in my struggle to the summit. At the top we were welcomed with a very pleasant view of the sun dappling the water and half a dozen sailboats taking advantage of the light breeze. Photos were taken. Down on the beach Manda strolled on ahead whilst I took photos of the sea, Thea sand and odd bits of driftwood. As I ambled along I picked up and pocketed seashells, well you have to don’t you. I caught up with Manda just as she stood up from where she’d been sat on a rock and realised her bum was wet through. Good job her bag covered the wet patch. We climbed back up the dunes and strolled along the top, until we got fed up of having to go up hill and down dale so returned to the beach. We found the short way back to the holiday camp where we took a quick look around the Vintage Market where I bought absolutely nothing and Manda bought another pair of spectacles. I did pick up the salt and pepper set on the way out. Back at the flat we packed our cases and had everything ready for an early getaway in the morning. We had a quick dinner before going out. The band I wanted to check out, a German swing band, was playing in the Queen Vic at 9.30 so, booted and suited, ready for “Hawaiian Night, off we went. The pub was nearly empty and we found ourselves a seat and waited for the band. Who were extremely good. Not everyones cup of tea but we liked them. Then it was off upstairs to listen to the last few bands. I was asked to dance by this older chap who I couldn’t make out whether he was Dutch or German. Passable dancer though. Manda had a couple of dances with him before we moved to the front to watch the band. Once again we seemed to be surrounded by the “look at me’s” The silver woman, in another tinfoil outfit, was throwing her hair around again, a very strange pairing of an older man with a very young woman dressed in the ubiquitous Suzy Wong dress, I wonder if she’s even watched the movie, trying to dance in the middle of the crowd and a very noisy group of Germans. We had a few dances just to get out of their way. The headline band started off well with quite a good female vocalist for the first couple of songs. Then they she went off and another female vocalist came on. Whoever told her she could sing needs shooting. She was bad. And I mean bad. One of those out of tune shouters who seem to think that decibels equal pitch. We persevered through her first number and then she started on the next. Manda looked at me, I looked at Manda and shook my head in disbelief. The singer yelled a very flat high note and that was it. We could take no more. We collected our coats and left the building. To find a perfectly clear sky with a bright moon inviting us to take a midnight stroll to see if we could catch a sighting of the Leonids meteor shower. We hurried back to the flat and hurriedly changed our clothes and headed off to the beach. Unfortunately, by the time we got outside again a sea fret had rolled in and we ended up walking along the beach in thick fog.

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Monday, and wouldn’t you know it, a glorious autumn morning. We loaded the car in no time now it was so close. Big stuff we carried down and lighter stuff Manda just threw off the balcony for me to catch below. Once everything bar the food was in the car, Manda made us a breakfast of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon to sustain us on our journey home. We had an excellent drive home with no holdups or delays and before I knew it I was home and resting my poor throbbing feet.

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