Newsletter Number 69

July 2001

From The Colonel

Dear All,

At long last the 2001 season has got underway with Battle Abbey - this being the first and last major muster for the year. I trust everyone had a good weekend despite the monsoon on Saturday afternoon.  As usual though, the sun decided to shine when everyone was going home!

  Sir Thomas Lunsford's Regiment has arranged an event at Fort Paull, Humberside on 28^th 29^th July. (Warning Order enclosed).  Unfortunately, due to other commitments, I shall not be able to attend myself, but hope that at least some members of Hoptons will be able to go along.

  Roger Anderson has arranged an event at the Rural Life Centre, Tilford, Nr Farnham, Surrey on 18^th 19^th  August. (Warning Order also enclosed).  This event is going to be very similar to what we do at Corfe and as this is a Hoptons event I would like to see everybody there.  Roger has put a lot of time and effort into arranging this event for our enjoyment and it is only fair that we should all show our appreciation for his efforts by supporting him.  This really also applies to all musters.

  An event has been arranged for the August Bank Holiday in Upton-upon-Seven and Worcester.  This sounds like an excellent event and I would urge you all to try and make the effort to attend.  Warning Orders will follow shortly.

NOW IT'S CONGRATULATIONS TIME

  I am sure you would all like to join me in congratulating Martin Potter and Catherine on their marriage on 8^th  June, and wishing them both every happiness for the future.

  Congratulations also go to Martin Phillips & Catherine and Chip & Erica on their recent engagements.

  I look forward to seeing you all at Tilford.

Yours in loyalty,

  George.

Editorial

  The season started off in earnest in May with a well run event in Parkstone, which I am cautiously allowed to say could lead to bigger things in the future. It was nice to see a good turn out for a low budget/low income type event but I reckon most people went home feeling fairly satisfied as to the amount of ale quaffed (despite my beer tent running out after 40 minutes!) and the home made evening entertainment, which for me anyway, was a nice blast back to the (recent) past. For the first time we managed to get sixteen pike for ‘Mars’, they may not have all been from our Regiment, but no one needs be any the wiser regarding that. You must admit however that it did look a lot more threatening that the miserly eight we usually rustle up.

Pikemen that know what they are doing! Now, there is a random selection of words that you wouldn’t normally see in that order. However, it was noted by no fewer than three people at Parkstone that Grant and Paul (Yorkie) confessed to knowing exactly what they were doing despite the months of inactivity. Yes! I heard it myself, Paul even told me that he was sufficiently wised up enough to be able to instruct newer members into the fine arts of waving the Pike about.

  A good time was had by a very good turn out at the Gurney Slade muster, which was held prior to the major at Battle. I accidentally learnt some things that I never knew before, for instance did you know that all beer seems to be free inside one of those big American campervans things. Providing you can negotiate the fridge of course.   I was also informed of the more unnatural things to do with toilet paper that is probably best kept out of this rag. If you are interested in a rather unusual party trick please speak directly with Vic Milburn who should be able to fill you in.

  But seriously now folks! Thanks to all that attended this event, I know everybody was let down badly with the weather, it being about 90 degrees and all, but we soldiered through yet another ‘Mars’ (eight and eight and all Hopton’s!) display with aplomb (that means the public didn’t spot the mistakes) and Bruce attended the muster, both pubs, the camp site and the house and wasn’t barred from any……Huzzah!

  Well, the major at Battle finally came and all too soon disappeared into another memory bank and, despite a lower than expected turn out everybody who attended had a good time. Although on sober reflection we may have been the largest of the Oxford Company with at least 12 musket, 16 Pike and 9 very small horses. It was especially nice for the newer members to actually feel what a battle is like after being told about it continuously during the diet of living history performances we have been fed on recently.

  Good too is the fact that the Oxford Company is gelling nicely into a unit that is enjoying each other's company both on and off the field. Isn't that after all how you make friends, by playing with them? I do however have a serious reservation with our method of fighting with the Pike. Not the usual well-worn debate about push versus point, something a little more poignant. But as they say in the theatre 'Always keeping them wanting more' so I'll bore you with that next newsletter.

  Looking forward we have Tilford and Worcester in August with Corfe Castle as usual in September. All of these promise to be small but enjoyable events, with Corfe Castle being the venue for a re-appearance from a pair of famous ex Hoptonites, who were banished from the known world for persistent and irascible drunken behaviour a few years ago.

  Ed

  A few dates for your diary

     JULY 28 – 29 Fort Paull, Hull Living History, Drill Confirmed

(Warning Order Enclosed)

     AUG 18-19 R.I.E. Farnham - Living History, Drill - HOPTON’S  Confirmed

(Warning Order Enclosed)

q        

   AUG 25-27 Worcester (Oxford Company) Confirmed

q        

      SEPT 8-9 R.I.E. Corfe Castle - Living history, Drill -  HOPTON’S  Confirmed

Volunteers Inc!

  A now a tale of the extreme supernatural kind… Once upon a time a long time ago a kindly and good-hearted twosome decided to involve themselves a little more fully within a little group that they were well involved with. The happy twosome, which will hereinafter be called 'The Angels' decided to take on the huge responsibility of writing the group newsletter as well as being the willing and happy vendors of all kit and equipment that you the foraging soldier needed for the season. They set up a system, which involved (as far as I could make out) much arguing and crossing out of friends names in a little black book. The loft space was fortified in order to take the weight of all the cloth that was obtained by both fair means and by what was dumped on them in the middle of the night, or left over from musters. The little Angels did this all for many years with happy, smiling and tearful faces; you could tell this was a job that pleased them both very much. So much so that Mr. Angel decided to quit his excellent job as a Sheffield Information Conveyor (SIC) to concentrate on the empire that he was building up along with his blessed Mrs.

  But over the years, unbeknown to him little Mrs Angel was getting the right arse ache with the whole shebang, the late comers at musters, the constant recriminations when things went pear shaped and the never ending list of people begging for help and stopping her getting to the beer tent on time.

‘Oh! Mr. Angel!’ sighed Mrs. Angel one day ‘Why don’t we give all this up and go and buy a place in the country where we can skip happily in the meadows, frolic in the bushes and drink until our angel hearts are content.’

‘Ay’ replied Mr. Angel thoughtfully, ‘but what type of idiot would take over all the work that we do, if we stopped now ‘t regiment would simply fall apart. We can’t have that now me dearest’

‘But that’s not fair’ shouted Mrs. Angel stomping her feet very hard against Mr. Angels shin. ‘We should stop this and have some quality time for ourselves and our youngsters’

Mr. Angel thought this over for a few minutes before taking his pipe out of his mouth and saying ‘Well t’dogs could do with bit more of t’exercise so I think on this occasion you could maybe, just maybe mind, have a point Mrs. Angel my love, I’ll give it some thought’

  Eventually Mr. Angel decided that indeed it was time for them to move over and let a more enthusiastic, younger, more (computer literate) up to date member take over.

With tears in their eyes Mr. and Mrs. Angel notified the authorities (George) of the decision and went about trying to find replacements.

  Well this seemed to be a sticking point, although it was relatively easy to palm off the newsletter on some uneducated lout, they were aghast at the lack of volunteers that came forward to take the weight of the kit from them let alone the recruitment. Months and months went by and poor old Mr and Mrs Angel were getting awfully depressed, sometimes only going to the pub after 10:00pm in order to be close to the phone in case in rang, but for ages nothing.

  It so often happens that when you least expect it good news is forth coming from the most unexpected of sources. Just as L’Angels were getting ready to go to a tap dancing lesson the phone did indeed ring. Mr. Angel who was in two minds whether or not to answer it, eventually lifted the receiver only to find the dulcet tones of young Erica Williams (you know, blonde/ginger/female) mate of Chip and all that. It is what she said next that knocked the re-enacting world for six. ‘I would like to make some kit’ was the somewhat foolish but heartfelt request from our Erica. Mr Angel stood stunned into motionless for what seemed ages, Mrs Angel who knew immediately that something was seriously wrong ran to her open mouthed husband, and the dogs, well the dogs did what dogs always do when they get excited, and rodgered the nearest kneecap.

  Erica ended up that evening being the new ‘Kit Mistress’ for the male variety of soldier. How this happened is anybody’s guess, but it’s a fair bet that Mr. Angel used all of his gruff Yorkshire charm and oodles of personality in persuading her to the task, that I am sure she will enjoy for years to come.

  So there you are. That was the true and unedited version of what happened when ‘Angels Kit Incorporated’ decided to follow ‘Angels Newsletters Co’ into liquidation, and force another volunteer to do all the work, run out of all the patience as well as having a house full of cloth, shoes, half made socks and a pile of whale bones to boot.

  But Erica, look on the bright side. Chip has bought you a brand new Jeep to come to musters in, and, you have got your name on the front of this journal.

  As for the rest of you please contact Erica and not L’Angels for your kit requirements in future. After you’ve thanked her for taking on this huge task, order whatever kit you need for musters, or if you have a passion for making it yourself, get some material delivered.

  At the time of going to press the situation regarding the woman’s kit is a trifle uncertain. Any volunteers out there? Then we can have part two of this gripping story.

Ed

LETTERS AND ARTICLES

Thank you from Dodge (Boo Boo) and Chris

Just a few words from Dodge, to say thanks to everybody who turned up for the training weekend. We all did a lot of training in the pub, and even managed a drill display for the village fete in the heat on Sunday, We hope you all enjoyed yourselves, as you are invited back again next year.

Dodge

WHAT A LOAD OF BALLS!!!

Forget Simon Schama, professors at Cambridge University have been developing revolutionary new theories about social phenomena in the Civil War period. Demographic studies have revealed that there was a significant fall in population during both the Wars. Well, that’s nothing we didn’t know already. And apparently there were fewer babies being born. Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure I knew that too. But what is astounding is the reason for these fluctuations in population.

  Now, I wouldn’t have said that I was a bad history student. Ok, perhaps I don’t always get my essays in on time, and maybe I don’t religiously attend lectures, but I’m pretty secure in my knowledge of the mid-seventeenth century. I’ve been re-enacting for nearly seven years and in that time I have actually managed to pick up a little bit of useful information (aside from how to really hurt Roundheads and how to find my tent in the dark/the morning after). But imagine how shocked, nay appalled, I was to discover that I’d been getting it wrong all these years!

Call me stupid (but not to my face) but I’d always believed that the population during the Civil Wars fell because everybody was running around killing each other. And according to the new film Antitrust – “When you kill people, they die!!” (What a classic line! Right up there with Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca and Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind! Inspired writing! Anyway, I digress). So, my inherent belief was that because all the chaps (and some of the ladies) were kicking the bucket and snuffing it the level of population fell. Stands to reason. And because all the men were whizzing around the country creating carnage and dying quite a lot, they weren’t at home to make babies with their lovely lady wives, hence the birth rate dropped. But no! There is a completely different reason for this….

  Cannonballs. Yes, that’s right – cannonballs. A professor at Cambridge University, who is allegedly a leading authority in seventeenth century demography, and who, for legal reasons I can’t name because he’s actually my lecturer and I’ll get into an awful lot of trouble, has developed a radical new theory based around cannonballs. The theory is thus –

  The population did not fall because of the enormously high death rate. It fell because of the cannonballs. And it wasn’t because people were accidentally walking in front of the cannons and getting clobbered with the cannonballs. No, it’s far far simpler than that. The cannonballs were putting people ‘off their stroke’. Yes, that’s right. The massive population drop in the mid seventeenth century was because everybody was being put off nookie by all the cannonballs whizzing around. It was a seventeenth century ‘anti-Viagra’. Granted it could be a little distracting to have a cannonball whizz through the bedroom window when you’re getting down and dirty, but unless it knocked off a vital extremity on its trajectory I’m pretty sure it could be ignored.

  This is a real theory, honest. I actually went to the lecture about seventeenth century population changes (shocking I know!!) and this is exactly what the lecturer said. I fell off my chair and laughed uproariously, and doubled checked that he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t. I laughed more. He shouted. I stopped laughing and made a mental note never ever to believe my lecturers ever again. (How can I be expected to pass my exams?!!!).

  So friends, I felt I must share this ‘wondrous’ new piece of information with you. I hope it’s put you out of any misery you might have been feeling when considering the great cosmic questions of population changes. You never know, maybe we could include this new theory in our living histories somehow. But gentlemen, at least you now know that when the missus complains of headaches it’s actually a load of balls!!

Sarah Maun

JUDY

  Signor Punchinello at Figg`s Academy

saith, Never shalt thou trounce me,

for I am Signor Punchinello,

have a care; `tis I shall cudgel you!

With that the noble Signore,

armed with courage exemplary,

did give the Knave a beating sore,

so that he troubleth Punch no more.

Hath learnt his lesson, sorry knave,

who thought `twas a simpleton he gave

the challenge, Ay, not the King

of Puppets, stage and ring.

And Punch to fair Judith did return

an account of the battle fot to make her mourn,

with illustrations apt and terse

upon her fair & gentle arse;

so that with shrieks most warm & shrill

the wench did supply her noble Lord the thrill

of endorsement for his victory

at the celebrated James Figg`s Academy.

A warranted note: Punch loyal to the King

When our Sovereign Lord King Charles I son & heir, Charles II returned to England in 1660 he brought with him his great love, the puppet theatre, so cruelly persecuted and disdained by the Roundheads. Mr Punch crossed the Channel with the King and, at Whitehall, where the present monument to Charles I now stands, was established with royal patronage the celebrated Punch & Judy theatre of one Anthony DeVolto.

Samuel Pepys was an avid and frequent fan, describing these shows, which flooded the entire country to general & enthusiastic acclaim, in his famous diary. In Norwich the Puritan capitalists petitioned the King to ban the puppet shows, which interfered with their workers slaving for them in the factories. Charles II resisted as long as he could the moanings of these profit-mad Roundheads, who could not bear to see their workers idling and enjoying the antics of the famous Mr Punch.

My reference to James Figg`s Academy in my poem is not authentic to the 17th century. James Figg established his cudgelling and boxing academy in London in 1725. It may also interest our gentle readers that the first recorded boxing match in England took place in the same reign as the first Punch & Judy show, in 1676 (the first women`s bout being recorded in the later year of 1722).

Yours in Loyalty,

Anthony Walker, Baggage Trayne

Named and Shamed

You were all warned of the consequences of failing to deliver your promised piece of jargon for this most prestigious of publications. This month we have our first public shaming of a man more used to being a little more introspective than other members of the regiment. Other than when he’s totally wrecked of course. But in total fairness I must say that I haven’t given him his book back for two years and this could be an added reason for his delay in producing said piece. However I’m Editor and he ain’t, so without further ado.

The Fortifications of Seventeenth Century London

This article has been continually promised since I took over the Editorship and despite plenty of opportunity and motivation, including a boring 3 hour flight to Italia and back he has singularly failed to deliver.

A hopeless case and as such is the first member to be embarrassed in this way. I assume the piece will be forthcoming for the September issue.

Pete Coppack

A short guide to Hopton’s English

Once upon a time I brought a new recruit to a muster. She had a whizzy jolly time, running around and drinking a lot, and clobbering Roundheads in a truly vicious way. I too had a whizzy jolly time doing similar sorts of things. But imagine how vexed I was when she told me that while she had had the aforementioned whizzy jolly time, she had been unable to understand a bloody word that anyone said to her. “But pumpkin” said I, “we speak good, plain old-fashioned English”. “Nay Sarah” said she, “you speak a load of drunken drivel”. This troubled me greatly. As I remember it, everybody was making complete sense. Perhaps, thought I, she had not drunk enough. But then I remembered that this was not true, as she had been falling over with the best of us. So I sat down and thought about how I could remedy this appalling language barrier. And so, dear friends, here is the short guide to Hopton’s English. May all recruits, old and new alike, never be at a loss to what the bloody hell someone is wittering on about….

‘ELLO DAAAARLIN

Excuse me kind sir/madam, I find you very attractive. Would you be interested in accompanying me to my tent and engaging in a deep discussion about the authenticity of my breeches?

ARGOR, IS BLURRY GOOD STUFF. THINKY HAVE NUVVER ONE.

 Goodness me, this drink is most refreshing. I think I shall partake in another.

CURS WILL ‘HIC’ PIPPY. IS IN THER POST.

Certainly Pip. I would be honoured and pleased to write an article for this fine publication. I shall post it the moment I return home. Never fear, you will have something to put in the newsletter.

ARGOR, ISH BLURRY TRIBBLE. AM GONNA  …… HRRRRGGGGH!

I’m afraid I feel slightly unwell. If you would excuse me, I think I must go  outside for a little private time, just me and nearest hedge/portaloo/tent/ Roundhead.

CURS BLURRY WILL. AM NEFER LAITE. WOT YOU TALKING BOUT?

 Of course I shall be on the drill field bright and early tomorrow morning. I am an extremely punctual person.

The aforementioned new recruit found this guide most helpful, but she was still troubled. Apparently we still speak in tongues in the mornings. So, I continued compiling this guide.

ARGOR, ISH BLURRY TERRIBIBBLE. AM GONNA …. HRGGGH!

See Above.

WOULD YOU BLURRY SHURRUP, YOU NOISY B*****DS!!!

You would mind awfully ceasing that drumming, as I’m afraid I am suffering from a slight headache. You are being quite loud, and I have serious doubts about your legitimacy.

UH-HUH, UH-HUH, YEP, PLEASH, UH-HUH.

Certainly I would love to partake in this wonderful breakfast. Yes, some beans would be lovely. Yes, I’d love some bacon too. A cup of tea would be wonderful, thank you so much.

ARGOR, DO I HAVE TO?

Would you mind awfully if I didn’t do the drill manoeuvres? I do not doubt your ability as an officer, but I think I have a touch of the flu and don’t think it is advisable for me to get out of this tent.

OH ***** (add expletive), AM I LATE? ISH STILL BLURRY PISHED. SORRY

I’m terribly sorry, I appear to be late. I do hope you’ll forgive me. It would appear that I am perhaps still slightly inebriated. Please accept my most abject apologies.

So, dear ones, I hope this has cleared up any misunderstandings you may have been having when communicating with your fellow Hopton’s in the beer tent. However, the problem does not finish there. Apparently there are still barriers when trying to translate the orders that the officers give to us. So, I shall write a subsequent article to complete your ‘Guide to Hopton’s English’ (Curs will Pippy. Ish in ther post!). Until then, happy reading!!

Sarah Maun

From the Colonel 2021

The City of Tarrant Monkton has changed little since we first started presenting Major events back in the 90’s, although the stream has turned into the world’s fourth largest inland waterway and the pub has become the most famous starting point for would be folk singers (Ken) and impressionists (everybody else) it still retains it’s rustic charm, even though Monkton Spaceport does spoil it for some. I was unable to attend this year’s carnival of events but I have been informed of its success and of the City Elders wish for us to return again next year. 

  My mission that weekend was to attend the World Organisation of Pretend Soldiers and Inebriates (W.O.O.P.S.I.), which I can happily say was a success inasmuch as we are now allowed to desecrate areas of outstanding natural beauty and demolish listed buildings (provided the scenario of the battle calls for it obviously). Other items on the agenda that are to be discussed more fully next time are the use of cadavers from medical schools to be strewn over the battle field and battlements, and the more contentious issue of drawing lots for the mass execution scenes.

  The Health and Safety Commission have been slow to ratify the second of these items but we are hopeful that they can be pushed through into use by the year 2023 at the latest. If you have no wish to be part of the volunteer service for what could become a most wonderful part of our re-enactments, then you must ‘opt out’ using form ECWS23/MMU/42. Please note that if you wish to remain alive you must have the relevant form filled in correctly by year ending 2021 otherwise your lucky name will automatically go into the special ‘Daily Execution, (Advance Draw)’ (D.E.A.D.).

Wesley

Knowing your Officers

The second in a rather limited edition of getting to know your (sometimes) much elders and betters. The basis of these articles has about as much fact as tabloid journalism; indeed most of it is based on quirky remembrances of things said just as the beer tent closes. This time the unknowing/unwilling recipient of the poison pen is:

The Ensign - Mr Roger Anderson

Too many pages will be needed for me to give you a complete history of ‘Dodgers’ re-enactment career, therefore I will cut it down to just the bare bones and lurid details, that in no way involves his eight stitches, or his ‘snapping at heels’ jibe.

  Dodger joined around about 1990 (at Gosport?) if I remember correctly and has been a constant reminder of how things should be done ever since. Never one to let the grass grow under him, Dodger made his claim to fame shortly after joining by organising the muster that saw the first ever ‘Mars his Triumph’ along with many other moderate success stories that he modestly never talks about!

Dodger started life as a musketeer, soon progressing through the order of dignity until he finally demanded the front right position, which he was never too shy to give up if a worthy alternative came along! With his CV as immaculate as it was he was promoted to sergeant in 1996 and t’was then that his voice was given full prominence too.

As with all high fliers, occasionally there is a set back, and soon after Dodge was denied the promotion he so craved, that of the Ensign and the keys to Black George’s wine cabinet. After a period of instability within the Regiment, Dodger remained as quite and introspective as he could in the background whilst wheels moved around him (obviously quite slowly!). But in the Whitehall parade of 2000 Dodger gained his Officership at the expense of ‘The Evil One’, and became the first Ensign to lead a Hopton company into a new Millennium.

Moving house down to the Pagan county of Somerset, Dodger’s organisational opportunities dried up a little (them lot not well versed in history and all that), but he bounced back as only he can and (ir) regular musters are beginning to take place in a field he bought and strategically placed behind his house. Has recently been honoured by having a dog named after him.

Roger Anderson - Fact file

For Sale

2 Pairs of bucket boots

1 pair size 11 in black leather, originally riding boots made to look like buckets, quite a good job has been done on them and they look authentic.  £10

1 pair in tan, size 11/12 proper hand made buckets made by Kevin Garlic  £100.

Back to Homepage                       Back to Previous Newsletters