|
|
| Volume 6, Number 11 - Summer 2008 | |
|
|
Inland Waterways National Festival, Wolverhampton, 2008It's August again and, having made the decision to attend this year's National Inland Waterways Festival, it's a case of sorting out the tent from the attic, book the campsite and, in view of the lovely summer we're having, investing in a better sleeping bag. The anticipation of the weekend under canvas wasn't helped by a call from Colin & Cynthia Greenall to say that the exhibitor's campsite was under water and they were to report to the organisers on arrival for further instructions … better pack a snorkel as well! As it turned out Friday was dry and the sky was blue as I motored down to Wolverhampton Race Course, my designated campsite for the weekend, to find everything in order and the caravans parked up away somewhat from the more modest camping equipment. But what a campsite! We were to use the jockey's changing rooms for toilets and showers, and there was a bar and restaurant on site too. The racecourse has had a pretty new rebuild into a smart all-weather track and is easily accessible from the main roads to town and the Festival site is reached by a free bus service. The first night was a quick tent pitch then off to explore. I decided to walk into town along the Birmingham Canal Navigations (BCN) and up the Wolverhampton flight of locks. The city council had published a town trail of the locks and this proved a great help in explaining the relevant industrial sites on the way. The top lock is a charming setting right by the centre which has a preserved set of toll office and accompanying cottages and here I met a boat coming down steered by Vaughan Welsh Chairman of the IWA restoration committee and also, lounging against a wall having a smoke, a team of Czech camera men who were covering the event for their television service and were in search of a beer now that the light was fading.
What a veritable delight! The building is festooned with all sorts of railway memorabilia, has a welcoming and efficient staff and serves a great selection of real ales and continental beers and does food too. What more does one need…? After a wee while sampling some of the various liquid merchandise, I thought I should go down to the Festival site to find out what was afoot there, so it's back under the station and into the bus station to get the service bus up to Pendeford.
The last bus was midnight but I wasn't waiting for that and I caught an early one in the knowledge that I was to be on the SCARS stand bright and early next day and didn't want to start off with a hangover! Saturday dawned after a coldish night but the weather was dry and bright in the west with a breeze which would hopefully keep the rain away. The first job was a visit to the toilet block to test the facilities. The showers were designed for jockeys so when anybody over 5 ft 5in goes in he gets knocked sideways by the pressured water hitting him in the chest! But they were certainly effective and much better than the portaloo shower blocks we are used to normally. On leaving the changing rooms there is a large weighing contraption used for assessing the racing weights of the riders and it was switched on, so nobody being in the place, I hoisted my ample frame on the scale and looked in horror at the electronic monitor. I suppose that, if the machine had been one of those talking ones it would have said "You're supposed to put the jockey on here – not the horse!" I arrived at the showground just before the public opening and was gratified to see quite a large crowd patiently queuing to get in. The SCARS unit was amongst the other canal societies down a side avenue and, considering the state of the ground in parts, was in a reasonably dry area. Trade was brisk all day and there wasn't much time to mooch around to meet up with the usual suspects but when the public offer money then its all hands to the pump except when the Chairman enticed yours truly to the beer tent for a late lunch which lasted a little longer than planned. At the end of the day it was a quick return to the campsite to change and then I decided to follow the same course as the Friday night but try a different restaurant this time although there was nothing wrong with the first but I stayed to the same pub and then back for a bit of Bill Bailey's band who were clad in wellies, at the beer tent.
I had noticed this in the bar in the evening but this was now confirmed after a tour of the place, there being more trade stands and less canal societies, and those that were there didn't seem to have the wealth of characters which graced the event a few years ago - perhaps they've all retired or gone on to the celestial rally circuit. Sunday night was the illuminated parade of boats. I am afraid that I was spoilt by the spectacle on the Thames at the Beale Park festival and that the canal based ones are pretty tame by comparison. Because the campsite for all was away from the festival site many people were not returning back in the evenings and I felt that the evening events were somewhat lesser supported than usual which was a shame and was probably the one thing wrong about this year in that it was much more fragmented and lesser people got together to talk things waterways. I am afraid that I too reneged on this occasion. The Great Western Had a Nostalgia Night on which lasted until 2 in the morning. I had an early feed at the show site and a couple of beers and took the service bus down to the city centre for some nostalgia too. I don't know about two o'clock but I'd had enough by 11.30 and a taxi sped me back to the tent for some shuteye.
The morning came too early for me and I manfully showered and the like and struck camp and packed everything in my car for a quick break after the close at five. I called around to the Greenalls who kindly had provided me with coffee and toast for the last few days and came to gradually. We just missed the courtesy bus but, just as we thought we may have to foot it again he turned up then decided to wait for ages until the vehicle was extremely full and resembled a Calcutta tramcar although no one was actually hanging from the sides! Monday threatened rain, did rain and the crowds were much sparser, certainly in the morning. Much of the talk was on the logistics of everyone getting off the site at the close of the three day event and a cunning plan was struck and apparently worked quite well. I didn't stay to see the end as, with the disappearance of the crowds I made my farewells to Colin and Cynthia and a few others I had met up with and went get my car for a speedy and uneventful journey back to Merseyside and home in time for tea! Dave Smallshaw
Index for this issue Index of all Canal Cuttings issues Home Page Site design and content © 2002 - 2009 Sankey Canal Restoration Society |
The Great Western pub (left), by the railway station, had been widely recommended as the best pub in town and I was able to impart this titbit of information to these euro imbibers who were truly grateful. It was then into town for some scoff and, judging by the Indian traditions of many of the local people, decided that a sample of the local delicacy might be in order. The inner man satisfied with a delicately spiced offering from a reasonably priced town centre restaurant, I then decided to follow the advice given to my Czech friends and find out the pub, which is under the station subway and then down a long ramp, past the remains of the old low level Western Region station, lying pretty well under the tall arches of the current and old Midland Region line high above.
The site is on open land just north of Autherley junction where the Shropshire Union canal spurs off from the Staffs and Worcester Canal and the bus drops you at the door via some circuitous route around the city's suburbs. Showing my wristband pass at the night entrance I was then directed down some sodden passageways for what seemed an eternity before emerging on a wet towpath and into a very muddy food and drink area. The bar, which followed the long held tradition of the Festival was situated at the end of the big tent and dispensed good quality real ale into plastic glasses at pretty exorbitant prices for those of us who usually tope north of Potters Bar! There was a folk group finishing off their act to a middling crowd and I looked in vain for anyone I might know but there was nobody there so I downed a couple of pints and struck up a meaningless conversation with a trade exhibitor who had , by his speech, obviously been drinking more from the well than me! 
Clouds dominated the sky on Sunday and the courtesy bus didn't show up so we decided to walk up to the site. The crowds weren't as evident as the first day. Colin, Cynthia and I worked, however, continuously through the day and by the close had still amassed a reasonable take. Time was taken to look around the showground which was responding to the enormous amount of work put in by the Waterway Recovery Group who had laid wood chippings in great quantities to try to minimise the inconvenience to the public through the heavy conditions underfoot. It appeared to me that there were a lot of absentees this year from the festival. 
The last night's sleep was spoiled by a 4.30 need to visit the toilet and I was amazed to find someone sat up in the grandstand block watching all night television, I know the Olympics were on but really!