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Saturday August 4th, 2007. A nice sunny day, not too hot, and just right for a march through Brighton. What time does the parade set off? Half past eleven, according to the web site. Allow 20 minutes to get to the station and buy tickets, nearly an hour on the train, another half an hour to get to Madeira Drive from Brighton station, that means we need to leave - aargh! Any minute now!
Check we've got everything. Money, credit cards, telephones, camera ... good. Off we go. (Forgetting one important thing, as we were to discover later). The train was, of course, full. Standing room only for most of the journey, and the further south we got the more packed it became. (No fast trains in our little backwater).
Anyway, eventually, we got to Brighton station, the doors opened, and we were expelled onto the platform. Already there were hundreds of people at the ticket barriers. "Let's wait until they've gone" we thought, only to see another train arrive with more hoards, so off we went to brave the crowds. Outside the station, we had a problem. "Where is Madeira Drive? Well, it's on the sea front, and the sea is that way (between the land and the sky!)" so we went that way. "Ok, here's the sea. There's the pier. There's the other pier. And is that a flag I see? Must be the right way!"
Having got to the right place, now, which was "our" float? No giant inflatable crucifixes is sight, so we started looking at the signs. Ah! I recognise that voice! Indeed, booming out across the general hubbub was the sound of Debbie blessing the parade. So, we could hear her, but where was she? Up there, with the BBC. But where wasthe Brightwaves float? Right in front of us! Can't see for looking, as my grandmother used to say.
Suitably blessed, we set off, to the sound of much cheering and whistles (which would continue all along the route), and some uplifting music. But the servants of Satan are everywhere and soon disater struck! Our music went quiet, replaced by a half-hearted "cough, cough" from the generator. Attempts to restart it failed, and we realised the worst - we had run out of fuel! Yours truly was despatched on an errand of mercy to the Capital Radio - sorry, Southern Sound - float in front. "I'm from the church float behind, you haven't got any spare diesel, have you?" "No, none, sorry". Oh well. Any other floats nearby? Nothing. The ones following were miles away with thick crowds between. Drat. Syphoning some out of the truck was thought Not a Good Idea, so we went the rest of the way unaccompanied. Well, unaccompanied by our own music, anyway. The Southern Sound amp was clearly audible, and I swear if I hear "Mah-na-mah-na" once more I shall have a fit.
It's a long way from the sea front to Preston Park! But it was fun ... all along the route were crowds at the road side, leaning out of windows, on rooftops (not to mention bridge abutments and bus shelters!), shouting greetings and encouragement, and several times showering us with water guns, a welcome coolant in the hot sun.
On arrival at Preston Park, we saw a few banners which presumably had some "Christian Voice" people underneath them (though there were so many crowds around them all we could see were the banners), and we treated them to an impromptu few lines of "What a Friend we have in Jesus". What a pity the amplifier wasn't on! Then the vehicles and the foot-soldiers parted company and off we went into the park.
Our first thought was food. Now, there was no shortage of food vans, but nothing that looked very enticing. The best one had a big sign saying "hog roast", which we made a bee-line for, until we found that despite there being a roast hog present, all you could buy was a pork baguette for £4·50 - a bit over the top for a meat sandwich. That explained the lack of a queue!
A bit further on, a big stand selling Chinese food, with a lot of people waiting. Looking closer, there was a lot of food left uneaten, and as luck would have it we bumped into some other Brightwavers (is that what we are?), who said it wasn't very nice and not to bother. So we didn't. Never mind. Putting our hunger out of mind, we went off looking round the stalls, selling everything from leather underwear to garden furniture. Nothing that we'd actually want to buy, of course, but fun looking at it all!
After a while, we saw a huge purple cross up the side of a stand, and correctly deduced it was Brightwaves. There was Debbie and Jan - ably helped by everyone else whose names I forget, sorry - doing a roaring trade talking to all and sundry about how God Adores You, with plenty of people stopping to at least read some of the paperwork, some of them getting a warm welcome from Snoopy the dog, who seemed fazed not a bit by the noise and crowds. A bit further round from our stall were the Buddhists, the Quakers, even the Humanists (where the very nice man had no hesitation in sending their regards when I told them I was with the Opposition!). Not a trace of the usual "our god can beat up your god" that we hear for so much of the time.
After that, we looked at more stalls, avoiding the brain-juddering "thump, thump, thump" from the disco tents and fun fair, and then it was time to make tracks for home. Back to Brighton station, by which time my feet were beginning to protest, and on the train home.
This is when I realised what I'd forgotten that morning. Leaning back in my seat on the train, a shot of pain down my back told me I had sunburn! Yes, I had completely ommitted to put on any sun protection cream, and T-shirts aren't known for their extensive covering. Oh well. I'll know better next time.
Finally, we get home, diverting via the local shop for a large cod and chips - first decent meal of the day! And then, a well-earned early night. A very enjoyable day; see you again next year! |
