Penny for the Guy

Welcome to Bramley, a village near Guildford that, every November for the last 40 years, has produced a stunning evening of lanterns and illuminations to commemorate the Gunpowder Plot.  I love the celebrations on 5 November, its cold dark evening a reminder of Autumn’s tightening grip on our lives, confining to memory the sunny days of summer, and forewarning us instead of the winter that lays inevitably ahead.  It’s also such a particularly British festival, arguably the most visible annual celebration of our national history, and here at Bramley, they really do it properly; no tasteless fairground rides, no tacky plastic wands, no booming music that is better suited to city clubs and bars…  In fact, the evening begins in wonderfully traditional style, with the judging of village children’s Guys.

Bramley is well-known in these parts because of its November 5 lantern procession, which makes for a stunning and atmospheric evening.  The long procession leaves the village centre and heads, slowly and carefully, for the massive bonfire, in the spirit of Walt Disney's Night on Bald Mountain.  When the torch-bearers have all assembled (and they circle the bonfire three-or-four people deep), we are reminded of the Gunpowder Plot, the crowd chanting those famous and traditional words:

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
To blow up the King and the Parliament
Three score barrels of powder below
Poor old England to overthrow
By God's providence he was catched
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

The Guys are placed lovingly on the bonfire, which is then set ablaze by the lantern-bearers.  Fire rips through the material, taking hold at an astonishing rate, illuminating the field and the crowd with awesome brightness.  Fortunately, the wind is on our side, the heat blowing away from the gathering and up into the dark, starry sky.

As the bonfire begins to die down, a single rocket firework flies up into the heavens; a warning for spectators to shift their focus upwards.  What follows is an awesome display of noise, colour and light, an inspirational show to celebrate the 40^th anniversary of Bramley’s brilliant event.  The crowd cheer, clap, ooooh and aaaah, as do Lizzie and I, for this is the best display we have ever seen.  It’s hard to get good photos of fireworks, but I think this video gives a little taster of just how good these illuminations were:

So, how do Bramley get it so right and produce an evening better than so many others?  In my mind, it comes down to tradition, community, and generosity.  The celebrations are handled in the most tasteful, timeless manner, they’re organised by volunteers in the community, and they rely on donations, the sale of lanterns and refreshments, so that they can make next year’s event every bit as good.  Everyone plays their part which, speaking as someone from outside the area, is very noticeable and says much about the village.

So, it’ll probably be Bramley again for next year’s festivities – I just think it’s great, and so unusual, to find an event that seems so dedicated to retaining the spirit of the occasion, and to doing it right.

Huge thanks for a very tiny prize!

We don't win an awful lot here at Nich About Town, but perhaps our luck is changing!  Last week I entered a Twitter competition run by the jolly folk at the Book People on the subject of Tweeters' favourite Lego minifigures of the past 35 years.  Much to my surprise and delight, I was one of ten winners, for the tweet below:

Well a few days passed, and then my prize arrived with a tiny flick of the letter box.  In dropped a mini book charting nearly 50 iconic minifigures, and a limited edition to boot, being number 112 of only 260 printed!

Naturally, this mini edition is the perfect companion for the bigger, more informative cousin I bought recently, which dedicates chapters to the rise of these popular plastic people, and their development through the decades.  Through the pages, a Lego history lesson, and a million memories - spacemen, police officers, knights, pirates, wizards, chefs, kings and cowboys, a wonderful celebration of Lego Man's 35th anniversary.

So thanks very much to the Book People for this great prize!  I'll let these two soldiers do the hard work of finding a space on my bookshelf!

This blog stands against the Government's cruel, unfair, and unscientific badger cull

Limitless possibilities and the greatest toy on Earth

Cor, what a week it has been!  We decided to go on a whistle-stop tour of Europe, starting in our own capital, London.  Tower Bridge, Big Ben, Piccadilly Circus... we saw them all, and even managed to watch the Trooping of the Colour in the company of the Royal Family!  There was also an unexpected journey to the old Wembley Stadium, its twin towers still standing proud outside the Home of Football.

Leaving London, we had a quick look at Stonehenge, made our way to a Shakespeare production at the Minack Theatre in Cornwall, before heading up country, where the iconically rusty Angel of the North pointed the way to Newcastle.  Further north, across the border and into Scotland, we took in some Highland dancing at Blair Castle, and marvelled at the wonder that is Edinburgh Castle.

Not satisfied with our British adventure, we thought we'd hop across the water and see what was occurring in Europe.  Paris was looking splendid, especially the beautiful Sacre Coeur, and we were delighted to visit a traditional Tuscan village market, before heading into the wilds of Scandinavia, where pretty little churches poked up from alpine tundra, and Abba were giving an impromptu concert.  In Holland, meanwhile, the canals were busy as usual, whilst the architecture in Belgium remains simply stunning.

Of course, Lizzie and I haven't been jet-setting at all!  Instead, we took the 08:03 to Windsor and Eton Riverside, and hopped on the shuttle bus to Legoland Windsor, Britain's home of Lego.  Miniland, which is only one part of this excellent park, contains a staggering number of world-famous buildings from cities across Europe and North America.  What I love best about it is the attention to detail - two new parents with a pram outside Buckingham Palace, the Chancellor emerging from Downing Street with a red briefcase, a group of black-and-white-striped footballers loitering under the Angel of the North - a proper examination of the place would take almost as many hours as it took to build in the first place.

Aside from the brilliant models of Miniland, we also met Vikings and Pirates on the park's splash-tastic water rides, took a submarine journey to see real ocean fish, enjoyed an oriental steam train ride, saw incredibly realistic big game animals, explored a medieval castle, and went on a dinosaur safari.  What more could you ask for in one day out?

Lego will always hold a very special place in my heart; it was virtually the only toy I played with as a child, and I collected, built, designed, and absolutely loved it for years.  In tough times, it cheered me up and gave me an escape, whether it was a castle, a pirate ship, a police station... For a child with an imagination, there was no end.  In my more mature years, I may no longer have all the sets (well, I've clung on to one or two), but I've always kept a very close eye on this wonderful plastic toy company, to see where they take themselves next.  And judging by what I've seen, there's another generation of children growing up with their heads full of wonder at the limitless possibilities that this toy provides.  No wonder there were so many happy faces leaving the park's shop at the end of the day; I think I may have indulged a little too:

 

Thanks Lego, for one great day out, and for years of enjoyment!

Steam in the glasshouse, steam on the rails - It's 'otter along the Dart!

If you take a ten minute drive down the A38 from Teigngrace, you might just end up in a little town called Buckfastleigh.  At first glance, there isn’t much to keep the traveller in the little town for too long, but if you look again, you might just uncover a wonderful little world of intrigue, interest and conservation.

We roll up in my trusty little Toyota to what at first glance appears to be a fairground.  What is going on in this usually sleepy little corner of the county?  We find a space in the overflow carpark (courtesy of the traffic-controlling cadets) and make quietly for the otter sanctuary, a source of much delight for Lizzie and I in the past.  Inside, the spacious pens of Buckfastleigh’s well-loved otters lie in wonderfully natural conditions.  The otters, in one way or another, are all rescue creatures that, for various reasons, the sanctuary has been unable to release back into the wild.  One was a baby, swept away from its holt during the recent floods; another was unfortunately stuck in the waterwheel near Morrison’s supermarket in Totnes, and was injured.  Our arrival has coincided with the morning feed, so we are treated to a good talk from the expert keeper, who takes us from the Asian short-clawed to the North American, ending with our lovely native species.

Funnily enough, otters are not the only thing to be found at Buckfastleigh's Otter Sanctuary.  Inside the large glasshouse, cheerfully flapping in the heat and humidity, myriad perfectly formed butterflies flit from leaf to leaf, fruit to fruit.  Being careful not to step on any is quite a challenge, for they do seem to land anywhere and everywhere, including on your clothes, hair, and bag.  Through the middle of the glasshouse lies a pond, so we are also treated to enormous koi carp and sleepy terrapins, who cling to the edge of the water and bask in the heat, occasionally losing their grip and plopping straight in, with some comedy.  So hot is the glasshouse, my camera steams up almost as soon as we enter, hence the slightly hazy nature of the photos.

Back outside, and it turns out we have arrived – quite accidentally – in the middle of a vintage transport festival, enthusiasts out in full force to show off their perfectly-kept cars, or to photograph the shiny steam engines.  Following our visit to the otters, our destination is Totnes, which we intend to get to by the magical form of old steam train.  Our engine pulls into the intriguing little station – more a labour of love, of course, than anything that would function effectively nowadays (unless you’re from the Westcountry, then you may eye Buckfastleigh station with envy when compared to our unkempt and ramshackle modern mainline stops) – and we hop aboard, happily settling into our compartment, reminiscent of Agatha Christie’s murderous night on that famous Orient Express.  Talk about a timely service, within minutes we are chugging through River Dart country, rocking gently, enjoying the rural scenery pass us by at a more-than-acceptable relaxing speed.  I really like these old trains, their comfortable furnishing, their wood panels and doorframes, a glance around revealing not one hint of plastic in the entire carriage.

The ride to Totnes – which is the end of the line – takes not half an hour, and involves a stop at Staverton, from which many excited train spotters – all with massive cameras – can be seen.  When we alight at Totnes Littlehempston (yes, Totnes technically has two railway stations!), there is commotion aplenty, and you would be forgiven for thinking the 11.24 for London Paddington had just turned up.  It’s a heady mix of train spotters, locals and tourists on day trips, guards, luggage porters, even a man with an owl on his arm (a keeper from the nearby rare breeds farm) who has come to show the owl to the tourists, or perhaps the tourists to the owl, and to drum up some support for the farm, which lies just beyond the station.

And what a lovely little farm it is too!  We are given a free bag of animal feed on arrival, and Lizzie wastes no time letting the animals tuck in.  Around the site, we are treated to owls, goats, donkeys, alpacas, sheep, ducks, pigs, geese, hedgehogs, squirrels, guinea pigs, bantams, all manner of small and unusual creatures from the rarer gene pools of the world.  Even the most tiny of creatures had not been forgotten – indoors there are tiny harvest mice, whose nests stretch deep down inside glass-fronted cabinets, dotted with the occasional seed, and looking like the perfect winter retreat.

Rare breeds enjoyed, the food long gone, we stroll back to the station for the exciting return journey up the Dart valley.  Back at Buckfastleigh, there’s just enough time left to browse the railway museum, take in the classic cars, and spend a while watching my most favourite object of the moment, this beautiful carnival organ, which encapsulates a spirit of fun, humour and innocence that I thought was all-but-lost from this world.  It's an absolutely magical object to end an absolutely magical day, so why not play the video and enjoy the tunes yourself?

To see all the photos from our lovely day out along the Dart, click here