I wandered down from my home in Ringmer and saw the entire cavalcade assemble on the edge of Lewes before it set off in two awkward half-convoys. In the midst of the police motorcycles and sponsored trucks was a lone runner clutching an eBay-ready Olympic torch.
To be honest, I was rather hoping that the assorted bonfire societies of Lewes had planned a guerrilla response in the style of Crocodile Dundee’s much-quoted knife scene. “Call that a torch parade?”, someone would shout as hundreds of paraffin-soaked wooden stakes were raised to the skies. “No, THIS is a torch parade”. A giant papier-mâché effigy of Wenlock the mascot would then be burned on the playing field behind Tesco.
Sadly, that remained a mere fantasy.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not joining the Cynical Olympiad that seems to be accompanying the 2012 games. This column isn't the place for such cynicism. It's the place where I extol the benefits of not living in Lewes while singing the town’s praises.
And Tuesday was the perfect example of Lewesians getting a bit of a raw deal while the rest of the world looked on.
Never mind the road closures. Never mind the transport disruption. Never mind some businesses wondering where on earth all the customers had gone.
No, Tuesday was all about visitors. Through a curious quirk of scheduling there weren’t even any Lewes residents carrying the torch through their home town.
Also notable was the way some of these visitors dressed. Not the torchbearers. The tourists.
It’s a curious thing but we Brits really seem to choose dramatically different clothes when we’re on holiday, even when our destination isn’t that far away and our lifestyle hasn’t changed. Suddenly we’re wearing storm-proof cagoules. Camouflage shorts. Rugged sandals. Sarongs. Just for a trip to the shops.
All were on display as the torch passed through, making the streets of Lewes look rather like a film set. Perhaps ‘Robinson Crusoe in the 25th century.’ Office managers in suits standing next to folk wearing flip-flops. Climbing boots alongside stilettos.
Yet when I come to Lewes, I'm a visitor too. Which prompts a question: is it wrong to turn up in my regular clothes when I visit Lewes? Would it be better if I identified myself by wearing three-quarter length shorts and eating an ice cream? Or should all tourists be forced to carry a flaming torch?
Except on 5th November, obviously.
First published on vivalewes.com 19th July 2012: http://vivalewes.com/
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