Newsletter Number 72
February 2002
From The Sergeant Major
On
behalf of all the officers, I must say "thank you" to all who attended
the Whitehall March. Although not massive, it is good to see our numbers on the
mend, providing half of the Oxford Company on our own. May this trend continue!
Marge
is survived by her daughter Linda and son Steve (who for many years was a
Editorial
I don’t
know what the official response is regarding the numbers for the Whitehall
Parade but in my position as editor I reserve the right to say that I thought it
was er…………well awful. For us the turnout was just about bordering on the
okay without setting the world alight, but others regiments seemed to be falling
far short of the normal, and to see half the Banqueting Square missing was
extremely disappointing.
This I think
has to be a direct result of the lack of musters over the past few seasons,
which I think we all need to dwell on and look to remedy very quickly. Obviously
we must also hope that lady luck smiles on us as well as the rural community and
that the Foot and Mouth stays well clear and countryside activities such as ours
can continue apace.
Anyway on
the bright side we do have a gradually filling up muster list with all
the local suspects starting to materialise and finalise. Cheriton is just around
the corner, Corfe Castle is always enjoyable no matter whether it’s an RIE or
a smaller Hopton’s event, and we have been informed by sources close to the
truth that a beer festival will be staged by the Greyhound over the Early May
Bank Holiday which I’m sure will provide considerable cheer to at least some
of us. Then we have the Bath Major that is detailed below along with the
extension to the weekend. Tilford is set but unsigned at present, and most of
you enjoyed it enough last season to make another go of it in 2002 (I wont be
though!). If we’re lucky then we could see a second major being staged over
the August Bank Holiday and we always end the season with our Corfe celebrations
in September.
So as we get
under way it’s not looking too bad and you never know there could be some
kindly souls out there that see us for what we are! Re-enactors of the finest
quality that offer their services almost freely to any regiment that will suffer
our rather odd peculiarities.
Ed
CONFIRMED
·
April
6th/7th 2002, Cheriton, Hampshire (Hopton's event)
·
May
5th/6th 2002, Corfe Castle (Hopton's event)
·
***May
29th/1st
June2002, Bath Showground, Somerset (Major)***
·
May 14th/15th 2002,
Corfe Castle (Hopton's event)
A
MORE THAN LIKELY CONCERN
·
August
9th /10th 2002, Farnham, Surrey (Hopton’s event)
UNCONFIRMED
·
July 7th/8th 2002
– Event under negotiation
·
August Bank Holiday –
Event under negotiation
***IMPORTANT NOTICE DUE TO UNUSUAL BATH MUSTER DATES***
We have been invited to camp in Stoke
Canon, Devon to spend the remainder of the Bank Holiday doing various things
like impromptu drill displays for the local pub, eating, putting tents up and
generally having a good time. As it’s the Queens Jubilee, that nice man Mr.
George Harrison has decided that alcohol will be allowed during the day once
he’s won the tent erecting competition. Further details will appear both here
and on the Internet once things are more confirmed. As they say in the
advertising industry, ‘Watch this Space’.
Ed
Letters And Articles
We announce
with regret the death of ‘Marge’ Palfrey after a fall in her home in
Starcross, Devon. Marge was a constant during the times that her husband Fred
was a part of the regiment from Pikeman to Colonel. An ever-changing regiment
has largely forgotten her but those of us that do remember her will never forget
who the ‘real’ controller of the regiment was and of the steely eyed stare
that would be given when one upset her!
Pip
For most of
the time that I knew her Marj was one of my unquestioned and much respected
rulers, firstly of our small local gathering in Starcross and finally of the
regiment, but when Fred passed on Marj handed her crown and took a back seat.
The regiment owes her a lot but there is definitely at least one member who owes
a large personal debt as well as the regimental one.
When I first
joined I was still at school and could not afford to attend musters. Without
asking for anything or grumbling once about the massive inconvenience Marj often
drove a second car just to ferry me around the country. Once we had arrived I
was apparently left alone to fend for myself but I always knew that there was a
distant eye making sure that I would emerge relatively unscathed at the end of
the weekend.
On weekends
without musters Marj would cheerfully allow me and the rest of the tea-guzzling
crowd to invade her house and sit around for hours boasting of how heroic we had
been practising with our pikes on the local moor.
Without her
behind him Fred could not have given as much as he did to the regiment. Without
her helping me I doubt that I would have been able to even start.
Pete
The 100 Mile March (Revisited)
At some
point during your stay with Hopton’s you have been told of legendary battles,
major musters that only the fearless could have braved and of course the 100
mile march from Clyst Honiton in Devon to Lostwithiel way down in Cornwall. The
following was published initially in about 1992, and despite the fact that this
is a shameful piece of reproduction because I can’t think of anything else to
write it will serve you younger members well in understanding what we oldens
had to do in the days where men were men and musters were a plenty.
In the early
spring of 1992 a company from Lord Hopton's Regiment of Foote set out to re
enact the march that was first completed in 1645 when the original army marched
this distance in order to cut off the Earl of Essex's army that was making in
roads into Cornwall This mammoth task was undertaken by about thirty 'marchers'
and a back up crew of about ten. The
back up crews job was to ensure that everybody had sleeping accommodation and
food at the end of the days march, which in some cases could be as much as 18
miles, all soldiers marching, marched with full body armour and either a musket
or full length pike.
During the
march various impromptu drill displays were organised at Okehampton and
Launceston Castles as well as at some of the smaller schools which we were
invited to stay in, indeed every night there was more work to do after the food
that prepared was greedily disposed of.
Everybody
met at the regiment's then HQ, 'The Copper Key' in North Tawton on the 10th
April to receive last minute briefings, saying fond farewells to loved ones and
imbibing in some last minute Dutch courage before an early night in the luxury
of a comfortable bed for the last time in the foreseeable future.
The march
started from a lay by on the A30 at Clyst Honiton in Devon with the aim of
making it to Exeter in time to meet the Mayor, which was achieved with just a
few minutes to spare, then without delay the company set of Northwards towards
Newton St. Cyres, where we stayed at the local football club, in all a total
distance of about 14 miles was achieved on the first day, unfortunately about 5
of them were going away from our target, but with hearts and hopes still high
the troops managed to have a hearty meal and (or) other refreshments at the 'The
Railway Arms'.
Everybody
was up early this morning for a special Church service at which our Colonel
(Fred Palfrey) and Lt Colonel (George Harrison) presented the Church with a
replacement communion chalice which was stolen during the wars of 350 years ago.
The march then resumed towards a lunchtime rendezvous at Crediton before
making tracks to Copplestone for the second evening.
Again everybody seemed to be in good heart (maybe a few blisters!) and
the distance covered by now was about 25 miles.
A Hurricane
seemed to hit us last night, some tents were completely destroyed others managed
to survive but with much reduced efficiency. Happily the marchers were more than prepared to continue in
the hope of better weather at the next port of call, which just happened to be
back to the old stomping ground of North Tawton.
For lunch the marchers called into a pub in Bow where it was advertised
that we would be hanging a traitor, which we did quite happily after a few
drinks and deciding who exactly was to be the culprit.
Not everything in this world goes to plan and instead of hanging him, the
rope broke and the fortunate prisoner got away with no more than a bruised ego.
North Tawton was no more than two hours march away, and 'The Copper Key'
was utilised once again for the evening’s entertainment.
The march had now gone about 43 miles
After
spending a beautifully dry and windless night courtesy of Lifton School Hall we
set off on our first task which was to perform a morning of drill at Launceston
Castle before embarking on a hazardous journey, especially to the soldier who
decided to march bare foot to Trecarrel Manor, which was only a
distance of 8 miles (nice
short one today!).The displays at the castle went down extremely well with two
primary schools being invited to watch us, then take part in the
putting on of the armour, having a go with a pike and handling the
musket. All good fun and much better than walking!
But onto Trecarrel Manor we had to go, but not until refreshments in the
good town of Launceston were taken. The
trip to Trecarrel was hazardous in the way of rocky paths and ledges that were
not what they seemed to be, and to the tired walker they were indeed hazardous.
After setting up camp in the grounds of the Manor a wonderful evening was
had by some in an old refurbished 17th Century barn and others in a small pub a
little drive away where the inaugural meeting of the soldiers council was formed
by one Officer and three soldiers who will forever remain nameless.
In all about 83 miles under our belts.
This
mornings march was quite a scenic affair cutting southward across the outskirts
of Bodmin Moor for 8 miles to a windswept area that calls itself Pensilva, here
we set up for the night, double securing all tent pegs in case of hurricane and
lashing down the cars for fear of no alternative should the afore mentioned
hurricane show up. We thought we
sang joyously in a pub called 'The Crows Nest' so much so that when the landlord
told us to stop singing in order for him to clear the pub so we could have 'afters'
... we did. He promptly cleared the
pub. He promptly cleared us as
well. Some people have no scruples!
The
penultimate day with Lostwithiel on the same page of the map.
We set off from a murky Pensilva morning across the bleak moor in order
to try and locate the A390 towards Liskeard.
We had a lunchtime appointment with the Mayor at Stewart House (King
Charles once stayed there apparently) which we managed to cock up by virtue of
us gliding straight past him as he was greeting us on the corner of the town!
Still, after the formalities were completed and a light lunch at the
house which was very pleasant and a few ales at the local hostelries which was
even better, we set off for Braddock Down School which is situated just past
West Tap House on the A390 about 7 miles from our present position but more
importantly about 5 miles from our ultimate goal.
At the school we again gave an impromptu drill display, which was great
fun as most of the local inhabitants came to watch.
It was made into superb evening when we found out the school had set up a
mini beer festival for our benefit Oh! sweet dreams.
At last our
day of judgement is here, just five short miles to Lostwithiel (3 miles up and 2
down). Not surprisingly most of us
woke up with serious side effects from the night before (somebody woke up with
something even more serious actually!) but everybody was upbeat about the end to
what we then described as the 'Longest Pub Crawl in History'.
The agenda was to be marching into Lostwithiel at 11:00am to meet the
Mayor at the War memorial, so we set off at an astute pace in order to achieve
this and hopefully not incur any delays on the way.
We actually got to the outskirts of the town with about half an hour to
spare, so, we promptly parked ourselves on the verge of the road to conserve our
energy for the greetings and ceremonies that lay before us.
Bang on time we marched into the town shoulders back, heads high but some
still carrying a limp or two and just to emphasis this fact we marched around
the town twice!, had the service with the Mayor before coming to a grinding halt
outside 'The Talbot' which was to be our wet home for the next four hours.
As sore as
we were though very relaxed and with a general sense of bonhomie we were driven
back to our home base of North Tawton and back to the 'Copper Key' where we laid
a band on for ourselves, indeed one of the marchers, Brian Milburn was the lead
guitarist. The rest as they say is
history.
The march
was in aid of Wessex Cancer Trust. We
made about £600.00.
Pip
A New Tent For Georgie
You’ll all
be glad to hear that we have purchased a brand new 10 metre x 4 metre kitchen
tent in brand spanking new white. This should be beneficial to all of us who in
the past have toiled with the old army style one and giving George a much-needed
pat on the back once it was up. This tent is erected with about 20 lightweight
poles and canvas, which at the moment fits into box the size of a PC monitor.
Another good thing about this tent is the fact that we can add extensions to it
for a fairly nominal sum if and when necessary. There is no truth in the rumour
that breakfast will be going up to £3:50 a go.
This Newsletter
I know that
the newsletter has gone downhill since I took over, but until somebody else
comes up with something witty to say on a continual basis it’ll carry on
sliding rapidly down the old literary scale until it hits rock bottom along side
the various biographies of the Beckmans and the Railtrack Safety Manuals.
However! And to the point, the whole production unit has changed. From the
success that was ‘Angels and Phillips’, which brought you more than 30
issues of the newsletter over 5 years and most of them without so much as a
hiccup, we now have the dietly challenged partnership of ‘Dodgers ‘n’
Davies’.
Pip
Whitehall
has once again passed by and yet again the pomp and ceremony that seems to
engulf the whole weekend was absolutely tremendous. I know for sure that most of
you enjoyed the sumptuous banquet and drinkie poos that were quaffed at the
newly opened Wetherspoons at the bottom of the Mall. These old houses seem to
have so much character, although I must confess that I thought the portraits of
various Kings and Queens of the past had absolutely no artistic merit whatsoever
and would have been better placed within the walls of the other more run down
establishments in the area, such as ‘The Clarence House’, ‘Kensington
Palace’ and ‘The George And Margaret’
Another
season now beckons and with it all the anticipation of bloodied and broken
bodies, bitten earlobes and cracked craniums. One thing I hope for this year
above all is the resumption of the unfair fight rule which was scrapped in 2014
due to some politically correct dude called Mandelson insisting that only people
of similar weight and height shall compete in the same competition.
And now some
awful news that will no doubt have most of you in tears. I am aware of various rumours circulating as regards to my
continued leadership of this regiment. I am now in a position to tell you, my
followers what it is I intend, as I want you to be the first to hear it.
I intend to
resign forthwith and hand over the reigns to somebody who I have grown to love
and trust over the past twenty years. It has been a pleasure serving with such
an amiable lot such as you but I think it’s now time for a new direction for
me and for the regiment, and with my appointee I think that will certainly be
the case. For myself I will be going into the fantasy and dreams world for my
next post as I take over the vital department of ECWS Human Resources.
As stated my
successor has been loyal, trustworthy and extremely hard working. Not only that
but he has shown the type of enthusiasm that any Officer of this regiment could
only be proud of. I know that as a youngster he got into more than his fair
share of scrapes and accidents, but over the years he has matured beyond all
imagination and nowadays even manages to be in the same city as the muster. Yes
my successor is Bruce Bougourd. I know you will afford him a typical Hopton’s
welcome at our opening muster, should he manage to make it on time.
Wesley
Knowing Your Officers
Most people
in this society have at one point or another been called a ‘son of a bitch’,
often without justification, but our Pete, with all the justification in the
world has every right to be called a ‘son of a witch’. Born into a
relatively unknown coven situated in Devon, Pete started his re-enacting
experience around about the time of the ark with Fred and Marg Palfrey (acting
as the ‘Matthew Hopkins Witch-hunters Guild of Devon), and was persuaded into
the relative safety of the ECWS, which was known then as ‘The Kings Army In
The West, which to me anyway is as near as damn it to an acronym of
‘Witch’……… See! The truth is out there.
Of course
you all know him now as an astute and wise Captain, but let me tell you it
wasn’t always the case. When yours truly joined this lot Pete was a mere
Sergeant who was very reluctant to give orders (not knowing any wasn’t
helpful), and when he did so always had to qualify them with pleases and thank
yous and other pleasantries, and this was to the ones who respected him!
Known
throughout the re-enacting world and beyond (I suspect) as Mr. Clean. Nothing to
do with his lifestyle of drink drugs and wimmin, but more for his ability to
fall in a pile of shite and coming up cleaner than the Dulux dog after being
whitewashed with super whiteo emulsion. It was lovely once to see him covered
from head to toe in Babylon Hill mud, car tyres shovelling more mud into him as
he pushed them out of the gate, his face was as black as a Negro miner, his
temper as hot as a prawn vindaloo, but we needn’t have worried. Thirty seconds
after entering his tent, out came a smiling, squeaky clean, fresh faced, happy
go lucky Angel, looking for a can of lager!
Now, as our
Pete is finally entering manhood he is starting to make himself heard in the
circle of friends known as ‘Yorkshire folk’ and has even begun learning that
lost language of the Tykes known locally as ‘bullshit’. This ‘bullshit’
is starting to pay dividends by the recruitment of others from those regions
into Hopton’s where the bullshit is spreading faster than Foot and Mouth.
Pete is said
to have just one ambition left, and that’s to complete a full season in the
pike block, preferably at the front and without armour!. On many occasions Pete
has sidled up to me after a battle to enquire How the battle went? Did we have
fun? Could he possibly join us? How he wishes he wasn’t in such a prominent
position as to make his participation in the pike so difficult!
So then,
when you see Pete, don’t let him be shy, encourage him into the brethren of
Pike. I promise you, he’ll be your best friend for life.
|
Favourite
Music |
Carols |
|
Favourite
Film |
Angels
With Dirty Faces |
|
Favourite
Drink |
Lager,
but it don’t matter too much |
|
Favourite
Trait |
The
forgotten art of pinickityism |
|
Worst
Trait |
Assuming
people know what he’s talking about |
|
Favourite
Holiday |
Half
term, Whitsun, Summer, Easter, Christmas. |
|
Football
Team |
England
R.F.U. |