Journal Entries
WL Sun 4 Sep
Posted Sep 7, 2005
Being a light sleeper, my body does not respect the need for a full night's sleep. Even sleep for the remainder of the night would have been something, but I didn't get even that. One trouble is that Hebden Water runs just by the back yard of The White Lion, and is particularly noisy there because the river bed has been artificially built up so as to make a fast-flowing cascade where the river is, as a consequence, shallow. I woke at about 4, then again at about 7:30, at which point it was obvious that I would get no more sleep.
I did 4 postcards. The postbox is next to the market place, where a few stallholders were starting to set out their wares for a farmers' market.
Back inside to pack, then breakfast at 9. Misty, Sheena, Hati and MizzE joined me. Jane and Laura were, as Jane put it, "antisocial" and took another table. Jane, Laura and MizzE decided to drive to some nearby village and enter a scarecrow competition. The idea is that some of the locals display scarecrows, and entrants must follow clues and find them all. That didn't appeal to me, and nobody else had any other plans, so, after packing and checking out (which must be done by 11), I went on a slow stroll about town. At Holme St., there was a flea market, including a couple of book stalls, but there was nothing there worth buying.
In the main street, I met Sheena and Hati who said they'd do Hatchard again. It opened at 12:30, so at 12:45 there I was, followed soon after by Sheena and Hati. There were some titles I knew, but none that I felt were worth even £2.
Walking through the park on the way to the rail station to see Misty and Sheena off on the 1:58 to Leeds, I spotted Misty, and caught up with her. She suggested a redistribution of the load: she trundled her suitcase and I shouldered my two bags and carried her bag. She worried that I, as a man, might object to carrying a pink bag. No worries, Misty! Pink is not really my colour, I admit, but I do not have a machismo so fragile as to be damaged by the act of carrying the bag of the woman I am with.
By my rail itinerary, I had a 13-minute connection to make in Leeds, from a local train (leaving Hebden Bridge at 3:58) to one that could be on any platform of Leeds station (which has at least 17 platforms). I played it safe and went on the 2:58. The rest of the journey went fine, and I even managed to get a train out of London 30 minutes before the one on the itinerary, thus getting me home for an evening meal that much earlier.
I had time and energy enough to catch up in ML, but writing lengthy journals and making a photo album for the lockin will have to wait until tomorrow.
Sundry thoughts:
Rail travel: If the destination is so far away that an Intercity leg is needed, then, if possible, book a super advance return at least a week in advance.
Camera: On overnight trips, bring the charger and the other rechargeable batteries. The camera soon exhausts the batteries' charge.
Thoughts on Hebden Bridge in summary:
Quite why BA deemed Hebden Bridge the 4th funkiest town in the world (and the funkiest in Europe) I don't know. [Source: the April issue of highlife, the British Airways flight magazine.] It doesn't seem to have any more art galleries than St. Ives, or independent bookshops than Hay-on-Wye. Perhaps it's all those "media types". As for the statement that lesbians outnumber straight women 6 to 1, I will leave that for others to judge.
One thing that helped make HB3 good was the weather. It was cloudy but dry and warm throughout.
The complete list of Mustardlanders who attended was:
Men: Fitology Phil, QB, Rob, TWriter, his father, me: 6.
Women: Almond Aire, Amy Bridge, Annie Cambridge, Hebe, Hati Haystack, Jane, Laura S, Matilda Groves, Misty, MizzE, Polly Tunnel, Sheena, Tallulah: 13.
This bears out my impression that HB3 was female-dominated. At some stage some woman (Laura?) seemed to have taken pity on me as she saw the arrival of Phil as a man for Word-Lover to talk to at last. Did she think I'd rather chat with him on bloky subjects? What I value is good conversation and good company; it doesn't matter so much to me if the company is mostly female, so long as I can be part of the group, so chat about schoolgirl fiction is no good for that purpose! 
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WL Sat 3 Sep
Posted Sep 7, 2005
Yesterday was dry with light cloud. The forecast is for more dry weather for the rest of the weekend.
Jane, Laura, Misty, MizzE and Sheena were all at The White Lion for breakfast this morning. The plan is to be at The Fox and Goose at 12, then lunch at Moyles at 2:30. This leaves no long interval for doing anything time-consuming, such as a hike, so the hiking boots and OS map will have to stay unused.
I set off uphill in search of vantage points for a photo looking down on Hebden Bridge. There was no time to walk up to Heptonstall, so I took a few in the School Street area (a short walk up from The White Lion), where the housing appears to be fairly new buildings, though they are in the style of the old terraces of weavers' cottages. They are not "top-and-bottom" houses, but use the same idea. The bottom storey is for garages on the uphill side of a street, facing downhill. The next storey up is the ground floor of houses on the downhill side of the next street up, facing uphill. Back down in Bridge Gate I ran into a few Mustardlanders and so joined them in Brian's caff. 
Fitology Phil joined us, and unveiled a couple of goodies, but more about them later.
At 12 we convened in The Fox & Goose. This time we had the function room on the left (as you look in from the front door), which is much better than the bar as it is non-smoking. The paint on the walls below the dado rail is mustard-coloured. The furnishings show an admirable, if unusual, example of recycling. Among the seating are two benches which, to judge from their style, had been in pews. A board on which Simon shows some of the available brews is a hymnboard. Unfortunately, instead of the traditional pub piano, there is no church organ; it would probably have filled the pub!
There were there: Amy Bridge, Annie Cambridge (aka Annie MS), Fitology Phil, Hebe, Jane, Laura S, Misty, MizzE, Polly Tunnel, QB, Rob, Tallulah, TWriter, his father, and me. Conspicuously absent, Laura, was the Mustardland jar of Colman's mustard. (The locals must have wondered who on earth we are. Our jar of mustard would have made this clear!)
This is my third Mustardland meet, but the first at which I saw the famous Mustardland book. This was started at the first Mustardland meet that was at the Fox and Goose (which, as was pointed out, was not the first Mustardland meet ever). It has appeared at some Mustardland meets since, including Cromford and Bath, and now here. I duly made my mark.
In grateful thanks for putting up with Mustardlanders invading his pub yet again, the Fox and Goose's publican Simon was presented (by Fitology Phil) with a copy of a game Fox and Geese. Someone said "it's like solitaire". Yes, in the same way that a bicycle is like a unicycle. (OK, I know she was referring to the board. This is not the game where the fox faces 4 geese on an 8x8 board; here, the fox faces 17 geese on a 7x7 board of which a 2x2 area at each corner has been removed, as in peg solitaire.) Jane was presented with an IOU for an Ambridge Rose for organising this meet. Thank you Simon, and thank you Jane!
Now, a written text can capture /some/ of the flavour of speech, but it is at best an imperfect representation. Read Laura's ML messages on any of her pet subjects, and her enthusiasm shines through. Not even these messages, however, can prepare the reader for the phenomenon that is Laura in real life. 
Words and ideas gush forth at a rate of knots. So it was that Laura discussed what she'd bought on the way up. She'd gone into the 
shop Hatchard and Daughters. Having heard that there was a closing-down sale at this branch, and that nearly every was £2, she bought 23 of them. 1940s needlecraft and interwar schoolgirl fiction figured largely in this collection. Brazil nut, then.
How could I resist? Just before everyone else left for Moyles, I sneaked down to Hatchard. Seeing as Laura had been there, the shelves looked somewhat bare, but I picked 2 : a selection of Frank Muir and Denis Norden stories from My Word, and Mostly Harmless, the 5th Hitch-hiker book. (With So Long, the 4th, I would have the set.)
Moyles is a small high-class restaurant on the high street (this stretch of which is called New Road). It can cater for 16. Moyles's 16 places were arranged as 4 tables of 4. By this time we were 18, so Tallulah, QB and Rob went elsewhere to dine.
The dining area is slightly larger than would normally suffice for 16, because the seats are great wide bucket seats, quite the hugest I've seen in any restaurant.
These 15 of us were at Moyles (clockwise round the dining area, then clockwise round each table): Annie Cambridge, Hebe, Laura & MizzE; Amy Bridge, Hati Haystack, Polly Tunnel & Jane; Almond Aire, Misty & me; and Fitology Phil, TWriter's father, TWriter & Sheena.
My steak came with salad instead of another vegetable. No sauce; I don't care if that's the fashionable or posh way to serve meat, but I still appreciate some sauce to help the morsels slip down. The choice of desserts was poor. I chose sticky toffee pudding and vanilla sauce; a delicious sauce made up for a stodgy pudding. Some had crême brulée which apparently was good.
By the time we emerged, replete, from Moyles, it was already nearly closing time for the shops.
Some of us saw Annie Cambridge off at the railway station. This station retains some wonderful old signs with their lettering in relief capitals painted white on black. If someone wanted to remake "Brief Encounter" (which used Carnforth (Lancs.)), Hebden Bridge would serve admirably for the station scenes.
Jane, ?Polly Tunnel? and I went for a stroll along the canal, westwards, along past Stubbing Holme Road.
Back to The White Lion to recharge my batteries both literally and metaphorically.
At The Fox and Goose the party was in full swing by the time I got up there. Again, we had the function room on the left.
There were there: Amy Bridge, Fitology Phil, Hati Haystack, Hebe, Jane, Laura S, Matilda Groves, Misty, MizzE, Polly Tunnel, QB, Rob, Tallulah, TWriter, his father, and me. Unfortunately absent were Bex, Jont and Lady M. Jont phoned in. So did Posh, who was accompanied at her end of the phone line by her parrot George who sang Barwick Green to us! Quite the most musical song rendition of the night!
Fitology Phil brought out two printouts of a set of three poems, one on each of the three (so far) Hebden Bridge meets. He didn't recite the poems to the assembled company (shame!) so we just passed the printouts round.
The dreaded Archers board game emerged. The box says "2-6 players aged 8 and over". We wondered what 8-year-old would be interested in The Archers. Fortunately there were more than 6 of us and nobody threatened to set up a tournament or anything so complicated as that.
Seeing as the Howerd2-based Mustardland is to close soon, we discussed the differences between Howerd2 and DNA. Under DNA, there will be no more latest messages. There will be no more posting numbers, and thus no more '000-parties. Amy calls them "noughty parties", a term I hadn't seen before, but then perhaps that's just Amy.
Laura was wearing a wide skirt with flouncy petticoats. She says that men treat her differently depending on whether she dresses and acts in a feminine or a masculine way. These men are not on the pull; indeed, some of them are happily married and on some occasions are accompanied by their wives. Laura's idea is that nobody else is allowed to flounce because, with her petticoats, we have enough flounces already. We felt that I would have to have a masculine equivalent (lace cuffs, perhaps?). Why must men be masculine, though? That's just as bad as saying women must be feminine. I will admit, though, that flouncy petticoats just aren't my style.
Eventually the Mustardland contingent dwindled to 7 survivors: Amy Bridge, Jane, Laura S, ?Polly Tunnel?, Sheena, Tallulah and me. The board game emerged again. We didn't play it (the designers expected players even weirder than us, which is saying something: the rules call for each player to do impressions of a particular Archers character and talk about agricultural subjects like the CAP). We just did the multiple-choice questions bit.
At about 2am, Simon, the publican, brought us some of the notoriously strong cider 
"Moonshine". We daredn't drink much of it, so we had ordered a half pint and a straw each.
Gareth, a local, joined us briefly.
Simon chucked us out at about 2:30am. (Hebden Bridge die-hards might wonder: why so early? Simon, poor him, must get up at 9am.) Tallulah put on what looked like a burqa until she aligned her head with the hole in it: it is a rather striking poncho. It is one of the items Tallulah has won on eBay from the eBay seller "blackpoolsarah". Tallulah started seeking clothes on eBay after Steph enthused, in Mustardland, about buying hippie clothes on eBay. So if ponchos become fashionable among Mustardlanders, it's due to Steph and Tallulah. Amy Bridge and ?Polly Tunnel? left for Prospect House, which is up and out of town, while we other 5 tottered down towards town to our respective beds. I managed to turn in at 2:52!
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WL Fr 2 Sep 2005
Posted Sep 6, 2005
Hebden Bridge 3. This was my first /major/ meet, and I met several Mustardlanders there for the first time.
My camera's batteries died yesterday. No problem: install 2 of the 4 that came with my new recharger unit. I had a slight panic when I found that all these 4 rechargeable batteries are sold as dead. There was time to give them 1.5 hours charge before I had to leave (charging them fully takes 7 hours).
I arrived at King's Cross with enough time to spare to grab a bite from Ixxy's Bagel shop. (The bagel is a traditional item of Jewish food. Mine was BLT. The bagel is also one of the few food items that don't have h2g2 "smileys".) Six yobs occupied 6 of the seats near my reserved one, and were rather rowdy. Fortunately, for most of the journey to Doncaster, most of them loitered near the doors. A family of 4 (parents and young son and daughter) got on at a later stop. I spent a few minutes playing the bears and fish puzzle with them. Beyond Doncaster the journey was on local all-stopper slow trains. The Doncaster--Leeds train was shabby and slow, and its engine seemed always on the point of seizing up. (It left at 2:18, 4 minutes late, and arrived at 3:11, 10 minutes late.) The other train was also an all-stopper but was better furnished, and the ride was smoother. I arrived at Hebden Bridge at about 4:30.
Like many Mustardlanders staying at HB, I was at The White Lion, a little old hotel at the top end of Bridge Gate. My room was one of 4 in an annexe out by the back yard. It has a double bed and a single bed and an en-suite bathroom (bigger than the one here at home!), which made me wonder if the possibility of Mustardlanders (other than those who would have shared anyway) being willing to share a room had been suggested (I don't recall any such suggestion).
By now it was about 4:55. Judging by the ones I saw, shops here shut at 5. I put the batteries on to charge, and went out and bought some postcards.
I went out to recce Moyles (New Rd.) and ran into Tal, Laura, MizzE and Jane. I recognised Tal from the front and Laura from the back (she was wearing long mustard ribbons in her long hair: photos in the Lockin).
I got ready for the dinner and turned up at Il Mulino (Bridge Gate, next door, down the hill, to The White Lion) at about 6:45 (for 7). The restaurant is on the first floor of the building. I appeared to be the first arrival. However, when Amy Bridge arrived, Jane appeared from the dining area. The aforementioned 4 had turned up at 6:30 and been treated as a separate group, to ease the task of catering for us all. Thus we were at 2 widely-separated tables. My group was 8: Almond Aire (aka Chris Hanson), Amy Bridge, Misty, Polly Tunnel, Sheena, TWriter, his father, and me. My tagliolini was a disappointing mix of a large serving of pasta with a miserable quantity of little bits of meat and veg.
TWriter is 16, younger than I thought. His choice of subjects in TB, and the maturity of his prose style, suggest a greater age. He uses a wheelchair, but can walk a short distance unaided. He associates muchmore with adults, and less with children, than other boys of his age do (for example, not playing football with boys of his age); this, I suppose, is one way he could have acquired such maturity of style so young.
Back to my room, to find that we had indeed dallied so long at Il Mulino that I'd missed all of tonight's televised Prom.
The Fox and Goose is at 9 Heptonstall Road, but (unusual for a no. 9) is right at the bottom of it. It has three downstairs rooms: a small function room each side, and an even smaller entrance room which is the bar. That night, all Mustardlanders there were in the bar, squeezed into a small space together with several locals. One local, Brian, joined us (his pic is in the lockin). Some of these people were smoking. 
(That's the nearest smiley I could find!) This created an unbearable oppressiveness which got the better of me around 10:45.
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WL Wed 31 Aug 2005
Posted Sep 6, 2005
I went to the rail station for the (standard-class off-peak) return
ticket to Hebden Bridge. I was quote a price about twice what I
expected. I returned to the PC to see if I'd misremembered the figure
I was thinking of (I hadn't). The National Express web site showed
that, if I travelled by coach and bus, I wouldn't be able to make the
Friday evening meal. The National Rail Timetables web site mentioned
"super advance returns". I checked various alternatives for a main leg
of the rail journey, and it seemed that super advance returns for the
appropriate days were no longer available. Mentally grovelling, I
asked at the station again. The man there tried a few times and
eventually found me a super advance return for about 75% of the
earlier higher price. I have a printed itinerary; the only legs where
I must go on a particular train (for a particular booked seat) are
London King's Cross -- Doncaster out and Leeds -- London King's Cross
returning.
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WL Sun 31 Jul
Posted Aug 6, 2005
Once again, at 6am, nothing to do but get up. By the time I had breakfasted and packed and was ready to go, it was about 8:30 and AR still wasn't up. Eventually I found some notepaper (AR's house is a maze of clutter) for thank-you notes to AR and to neighbour (to return spare keys to).
While waiting for the return train, a policeman stopped and searched me, or, to be more precise, he stopped me and searched my bag. This is fair enough, given recent events in London. A cursory survey of my overnight bag and the coolbag satisfied him. In filling out the stop-and-search form, he asked me for my name, address, date of birth and height: I jolly well hope he was genuine.
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