Sunday, March 6, 2011
Notes on a Saturday
I took some pictures yesterday during my bike ride to the next town east. But the computer won't let me have them, so the pictures will remain hidden for now and I'll plagiarise this one from the internet.
I went along the coast, past old churches and castles and monuments and coastguard cottages. There was also a military canal, a left over guard point from WWII, a lot of signs detailing history. The Normans were here, there were smugglers in the eighteenth century, it was French territory until Henry VIII, the shoreline was further inland, seventeen coastguard men lost their lives in a storm at this point at this time.
In the town of Rye the antique shops outnumber the rest (including one called RYE DIY). I can hear the accents of American and French tourists and it seems strange. We don't get tourists in Hastings, the reputation of St Leonards is such that even people in neighbouring Hastings and Bexhill don't go there.
The train from Rye only comes once an hour. I catch it back and check the map. Must have been about 17 miles I rode today.
That evening I meet friends and we go to the (re)opening of The Roomz. Back in December, when I arrived in St Leonards I was delighted to find a music venue just around the corner called The Rooms, basically a small cafe/performance space with some rehearsal rooms in the basement. It went to see a blues band play there in December and the next week I saw it had closed down. Well last night it re-opened with a new coat of paint and now definitely more hip with a 'z' in its title.
The highlight of the night was the Swedish/Russian gypsy punk act called The White Trash Family. The drama of the night came when, during the warm up act, a member of The White Trash got locked in the toilet. It seems the new door handle was reluctant to move. The barman who was in middle of fetching my round had to go and help. In the end, my friend Mark (a plumber by day) used a knife from the kitchen to get it open- all to massive applause from the packed out audience. However, this was not before the fire service had been called and for some reason the bar staff had been told not to serve anyone until the fireman had given the all clear. The barman, quite young and now very flustered, got back to my round. I felt very honest in reminding him of the two drinks he had forgotten to charge me for.
Still it was nice to be listening to good live music again and to have A Very Nice Saturday.