Twin piques

A couple of months ago Switzerland was attacked by an invading force from the east of France. Not in reality, you'll be relieved to hear, but as part of a training exercise for the Swiss army. This would be an excellent opportunity for me to joke about the troops removing stones from their horses' hooves with Swiss Army Knives... but I won't. You see, I've just checked my own penknife and it doesn't have that multipurpose fold-out spike. Instead there's a ballpoint pen, a nail file and a pair of scissors alongside the various blades, which suggests it's more of a Swiss Army Administrative Support Tool. Or perhaps it suggests I'm no Ray Mears.

Anyway, these military manoeuvres got me thinking. The wargame imagined that an economic crisis had broken France up, prompting one region to invade in a search for 'stolen money'. But what if the same happened in East Sussex?   What if a mercenary force from Lewes tried to seize the strategic assets of Ringmer?

No, seriously. Our location and natural resources could make us an economic threat. Tired of drinking coffee and eating cup cakes, Lewesians might want to raid Ringmer's allotments for fresh fruit and vegetables. When Harveys best bitter became too familiar, the Lewes warriors would be heading for Turners brewery on the B2192. And we've got an undefended pond, too.

We villagers would be ready, naturally. The first wave of attackers would be repelled by frenzied geese from the Raystede sanctuary, where they'd have been readied with a special sugary diet of stale doughnuts. Next, the gin-drinkers of Ringmer would use their collection of hedgerow-harvested sloes to pelt the incoming force. Pity the poor soldier that inadvertently swallowed one. And if any pecked, bruised, dry-mouthed fighters remained, we'd switch the Glyndebourne wind turbine into reverse and blow them down the road.

Of course, all this conflict could be avoided with negotiations and some friendly cross-border arrangements. Earlier this month Lewes celebrated its twin town partnership with Waldshut-Tiengen by staging two days of entertainment... but I'd like to suggest a new sibling that's closer to home. A sibling with untested military might. One with shared interests but a different demographic. Yes, I’m thinking of Ringmer. So, come on, Lewes - it's time for a twinning ceremony. You provide the beer and the organic salad. And we'll promise not to invade.

First published on vivalewes.com 17th October 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/twin-piques/

Fair and square dancing

My childhood was predominantly fictional. I spent much of the time with my nose in books, many of them sci-fi. This led me to the world of Ray Bradbury, whose stories told of travelling fairs with fantastical sideshows. Tattooed torsos. Halls of Mirrors. Running away to join the carnival. I don't mind admitting I was a little scared, even though my experience of fairs had been limited to the 'win a goldfish in a bag' variety. As an adult, I discovered a novel by Amanda Davis called 'Wonder When You'll Miss Me'. Again there was a travelling fair, there was running away and there was an element of other-worldliness. I read it with the same apprehension and excitement I'd previously reserved for Mr Bradbury.

The recent arrival of the fair in Ringmer reawakened all these memories. Although our resident teenager reckons he's now too old for bumper cars (this is untrue; the only limit is whether you can squeeze your bottom into the seat), I couldn't help making a detour past the village green where the fair was. There were a few surprises. As well as candy floss and those death-defying and gravity-enhancing rides that force all your organs into the space usually occupied by your lungs, there were bouncy castles. Yes, bouncy castles. I can't imagine many people having a dream of running off to inflate bouncy castles every night. Where was Lydia, the tattooed lady?

Probably at the barn dance with her children. That's where I was. If Ringmer were a fictional village in a soap opera, the coincidence of the fair arriving and a barn dance taking place would seem implausible. But that's how we roll.

I reckon about a hundred people turned up to raise funds for one of the local schools. Unlike lesser events, this one was held in a real barn, served a real hog roast at half-time and had a real band. The caller was identified by Mrs B as a former music teacher - "the girls were a bit scared of her at school" - and she'd clearly not lost any of that authority. When she said "dance", you danced.

Still, it was all good fun. Even I enjoyed a do-si-do - and I have two self-conscious tone-deaf left feet.

As we walked home from the hoedown, the sound of pop music playing at the fair drifted towards us. From Billy Ray Cyrus to Miley Cyrus, I thought. I wondered about a last-minute dodgem car ride but decided my last pint of Harveys had made that unadvisable. Anyway, I didn't want to run away and join the fair anymore. I wanted to join a barn dance band instead.

First published on vivalewes.com 3rd October 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/fair-and-square-dancing/