Curiously, we also manage to promote our events without reverting to what's become a ubiquitous means of communication across Lewes. Whilst we Ringmerites stay in touch by phone, Royal Mail, newsletter, text message, Whatsapp, Snapchat and semaphore, it seems the only way to get your message across in Lewes is by printing it on a piece of A4 paper, laminating it and fixing it to a lamppost with cable ties or plastic ribbon. These notices are often seen hanging in place long after the relevant event has passed, with nothing but acid rain and casual vandalism to help them degrade. In the aftermath of the forthcoming robot apocalypse, when automated microscopic vacuum cleaners have tidied away the last remnants of humanity and the only remaining lifeform on the planet is a cockroach crossed with a Jack Russell terrier, I reckon the bus stop outside Waitrose will still be festooned with rainbow-coloured printouts advertising a pop-up Shamanic yoga weekend.
And then there’s the fashion. As far as I’m concerned, wellington boots are practical – albeit occasionally uncomfortable – footwear for especially wet or muddy situations. You put them on when the weather demands it… and you remove them when they’re not needed. Wellingtons are no more suitable for all-day wear than pyjamas or mittens. How they’ve become some kind of festival uniform escapes me. Yet switch on any TV coverage of summer festivals and you’ll see crowds of people wearing little more than beachwear but accessorising it with rainbow-patterned plastic boots and a crown of plastic flowers. Inexplicably, there’s even a trend for getting married in this sort of clothing. (Just search for ‘festival wedding’ on your favourite tax-paying internet search engine and you’ll see what I mean.) Personally, I think it’s actually an excuse for scaring elderly relatives away.
Still, enough of my ranting. Festivals are supposed to be about celebration. I may not understand your desire to carry a fluorescent pennant on a five-metre bendy flagpole but I shall rejoice in your decision regardless. Just as long as you’re not standing in front of me. I’m the guy in the dinner jacket, obviously.
First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 116 May 2016
