Rochester Christmas Festival
I recently flipped through a book in a charity shop that has altered my perspective on almost everything I’ve seen here. Jeremy Clarkson, (yes, the former Top Gear Host) wrote down his stance on the English Tourism industry saying that it was basically charging people to look at rocks. From large rocks that are mysteriously upright and in a circle to rocks that make up houses that are really old, put up a ticket booth for 5 quid and you’ll make a mint. This week I saw a lovely assortment of rocks and a lot more.
I caught the Medway bus to meet up with Richard and Cecilia, to spend the weekend. Rochester is the home and death place of author Charles Dickens and the city certainly knows how to utilize that. Other than the fact that we were up there mainly to attend the yearly Dickens Christmas Festival, many of the streets lining the High Street have punny Dickens related names; Sweet Expectations, Pips of Rochester and A Taste of Two Cities. One pub went the opposite way, proudly stating that there “Charles Dickens NEVER had coffee here but you should!”
Friday evening we had been to a lovely banquet event, thrown for the people who regularly come in costume and members of the Dickens reenactment group. Cecilia had made a gorgeous regency dress for me, as well as outfitting herself and three others. After a week of spaghetti, the meal was a welcome change and everything about the place was absolutely lovely. The evening itself is what I would image Charles Dickens prom was like- if Dicken’s DJ played a lot of Abba songs. Drinks, dancing and Dickens made for a lovely party.
I've continued to read the book Cecelia lent to me entitled '1000 Years of Annoying the French,' the most British history book ever written. I also had some company in the form of her two cats who were very insistent about receiving my attentions with which I was happy to comply. The following morning, the costumed crowd gathered in the middle of the street to begin the parade. We walked along with the bands, dancers, the steampunk cluster and then a host of characters from various Charles Dickens novels. I tried to snatch a view of Scrooge and the ghosts but they were farther up. I was right behind Mr. Bumble who was offering to buy the various children in the crowds lining the street. I had been momentarily confused when we turned a corner and there was whiteness floating down from the sky. It seems that to create the Dickensian Christmas, and in lieu of real snow, the city hires foam bubble machines and had positioned them around the street.
After the parade and the opening speeches we shuffled through the crowds of people in search of food. We managed to grab a ham sandwich (they put applesauce on them for some reason) and sat down. There was a child terror behind us just running back and forth yelling - it took every ounce of my restraint to resist borrowing Richard's walking stick and tripping him. We walked around the Christmas stalls, rode the carousel, picked up more food and wandered in and out of stores to the sound of carols and stories being shouted from chimney sweeps atop lampposts. As it started getting dark, now around 4, we started lining up for the evening parade. We ran into some Napoleonic war reenacters, one of whom had been at Hastings, and had a nice chat with them. By this point in the evening they were quite sloshed, but very jovial and friendly, one of them even leant me his nice long coat for the parade.
At the end of the parade, the crowd gathered, words were projected onto the castle wall, and the whole assembly sang Christmas carols. The soap was once again drifting down from the sky so you had to cover your mouth on the long notes but it was a wonderful end to the day.
On Sunday, after a big, english breakfast, Richard and I drove around rural Kent and just stopped next to whatever arrangement of old rocks looked pretty. Bodiam Castle was one such stop. This beautiful knight's castle was built in 1385 by Sir Edward Dahlyngrigge, who had made his fortune by looting his way across France in the name of King Edward III. The Hundred Years War had been very profitable to him, and he received permission to crenellate his manor house from Richard II. However, since this wasn't grand enough he decided to built a whole new castle just incase the French decided to try and loot back the money he had rightfully stolen from them. It had all the defences of a battle ready castle; a moat, murder holes, barbican, draw bridge, portcullis, but none of these were ever recorded being used and possibly more for imposing decoration. Even later in the War of the Roses when the castle was held by Lancastrian forces, it was surrendered without much resistance. It was returned when Henry VII took the throne back from Richard III. All in all the castle was more of a knight's dream home than a fortress. Definitely one of my favourite 'piles of rocks' so far.
