newsletter - newsheridanclub.co.uk · thetashestrophyfinal last saturday saw the club’s annual...

Cirque de Crème Anglaise

Wine fromAmerica

Pub Crawl inMaida Vale

The ScumballRally:TeamSheridan

The New Sheridan Club

NewsletterXXIII • September 2008

How’s That?The Tashes bowls us a googly—perfect weather

(Top left and right) Tristan hits theground running, having promised tocover his topic in 20 minutes, whichseems to make him look like an evilmastermind; (above left) beardsfeature prominently in Afghanistan’smilitary history; (above middle)Oliver Lane (r) chats to CaptainCoppice; (above) the Curé casts abeatific eye on the camera; (left) thefinale involved some genuinehistorical uniforms, here modeledby (l–r) Matthew Howard, CaptCoppice and the Conte; (right)Maud applauds heartily

The New Sheridan Club traditionally meetsin the upstairs room of theWheatsheaf pubjust off Oxford Street.TheWheatsheaf is oneof Fitzrovia’s historic pubs, a one-time haunt ofDylan Thomas, George Orwell,Augustus Johnand Julian Maclaren-Ross. In fact Thomas methis wife Caitlin in here and, legend has it, hewas known to flash at women in here as well.Fitzrovia’s associations with literature go backto the eighteenth century. In the twentiethcentury bothWoolf and Shaw lived in FitzroySquare; Pound and Lewis launched Blast! at theRestaurant de la Tour Eiffel in Percy Street. JohnBuchan lived in Portland Place and in The Thirty-Nine Steps Richard Hannay has a flat there. BothLawrences (D.H. and T.E.) took rooms here, asdid Aleister Crowley,Wilfred Owen, RupertBrooke and Katherine Mansfield.

London W1T 1JB. This month, Mr AlexanderFrankland Hepburn will feast our eyes and teaseour tastebuds with a magic lantern display onThe Architectural Cakes of Antonin Carême. Carêmewas an orphan of the French Revolution whosegenius made him an international celebritychef, working, at various times, in the kitchensof Napoleon, Alexander I, the Prince Regent ofEngland (later George IV), Talleyrand, LordStewart and Baron James de Rothschild. But hehimself believed his true calling was actually asan architect, and this manifested itself in hiselaborate table centrepieces and architecturalconfectionary.

The Last Meeting

At our August meeting Mr Tristan Langlois ofthe National Army Museum presented to us abreak-neck gallop entitled“Roll to Your Rifle andBlow Out Your Brains”: A Light Introduction to theHistory of the British Army in Afghanistan; yes, we’vebeen there several times before, yet never seemto learn from our experiences. (We do OK atwinning the war, but always fail to win thepeace.) The eyes of many a male Member (as itwere) lit up at the sight of the historicaluniforms that Mr Langlois had torn down fromthe museum’s displays and brought in for themeeting, and three lucky chaps got to try themon. Hearty thanks to Mr Langlois for hisentertaining and educational address.

The Editor Writes

IT’S BEEN A typical British summer—you drumyou fingers waiting for it to start properly, thensuddenly realise it’s autumn. However, we havehad a few exemplary days, one of which waslast Saturday. Which was a boon, as that wasthe day of the annual Tashes cricket match,played between those with facial hair and thosewithout. And I believe we didn’t even needrecourse to fake moustaches as has been thecase in the past. An official match report willfollow, I gather, but on pages 4–7 you will findsome photographs to give you an idea of whatit was like.

There’s something of a boozy theme thismonth: Stateside Member Lainie Petersenbegins a regular feature trying to persuade us ofthe merits of American wine. Believe it or not,there are vineyards now in every single USstate, even Alaska and Hawaii. Closer to home,CAMRA stalwart Mr Ian White curatedanother of his famed pub crawls, this timetaking in some notable drinking dens in theMaida Vale and Little Venice areas of London.See pages 8–9.

The Next Meeting

The next Club Meeting will take place onWednesday 3rd September, 8pm–11pm,upstairs at The Wheatsheaf, 25 Rathbone Place,

The New Sheridan Club Newsletter 2 No. XXIII, September 2008 The New Sheridan Club Newsletter 3 No. XXIII, September 2008

The Tashes Trophy FinalLAST SATURDAY SAW the Club’s annual battlebetween those with facial hair and thosewithout. The battleground was the RobertEvans Memorial Ground in Roehampton, southwest London, which resounded to the thwack ofleather on willow (and Willow wasn’t eventhere) and ripples of seemly applause from thepicnicking spectators. A full match report willfollow, but for the time being all you really needto know is that there was a certain amount ofrunning about but in the end the winners, as inthe previous two years, were the clean-shavencoves. Must be something to do withaerodynamics. Unlike last year, however, theweather was splendid.

(Top) Niall bowls in what can hardly be described as traditionalcricket whites; (above)Waveney gamely adds to my collectionof photographs that may prove lucrative should he ever makeit in politics

(Above) Essex lobsthe pill; (left)Rushen assumes histraditional role asumpire; (right)picnickers feast,oblivious to theexertions out onthe pitch

(Above) Nippletweed (inthe hat) and Spitfire Sterngenerally run about and hitthings; (left) Seonaid took therole of one of the umpires,which seems to involve carryingsome sticks; (right) at base campthe fever pitch of sportingexcitement is almost unbearable;(below) Fruity demonstrates hissingular bowling style

(Left) Revolting scene of affection involving Scarheart; (below) as the contestdraws to a close, our sporting heroes wander off in a summer haze.Why can’tall summer days be like this?

(Left) Rushen and hisfellow umpirettes, Cally(l) and Seonaid; (aboveright) the defeatedHirsute XI; (right) thetwo scorers, Ingrid (l)and Miss Hartley;(below) the victoriousClean-Shaven XI

(Above) Organiser of theTashes, the ever-calmWatermere; (middle right)he gets to play some crickethimself; (below) cheerful indefeat,Waveney is out;(below right) Tallulahconsiders just how muchdamage she could do withthis instrument; (top right)LadyWindermere, recentlyengaged toVicount Rushen,is keen to show off herpremarital bling

Ian White’s WonderlandLOVERS OF REAL ALE and of fine architecturewere in for a treat earlier this month when, on9th August, Mr Ian White organised another ofhis famous pub crawls. This time the area wasMaida Vale and Little Venice in north westLondon, beginning with the Mad Bishop andBear within Paddington Station.

From there the group moved to the WarwickCastle on Warwick Avenue, then the PrinceAlbert on Formosa Street, the Robert Browningon Clifton Road, and finally the WarringtonHotel on Warrington Crescent.

I caught up with the posse at the PrinceAlbert, a glorious “gin palace” of etched glassand carved wood, divided, radially from thecentral bar, into different zones, as it wouldhave been when it had been built. At first Ididn’t spot the NSC possse, hidden as it was ina tiny snug with access only by hobbit-sizeddoors. Strange.

From there we journeyed to the RobertBrowning, architecturally uninteresting, hencethe absence of photos, and finally the ArtNouveau Warrington Hotel, a haunt from MrWhite’s past, now absorbed into GordonRamsay’s empire. Unexpectedly there was aprivate party in one half—with a 1920s theme.Consequently, the bouncers kept trying to usherus into that area, clearly assuming from ourappearance that we were part of that group. It’sbizarre pub, with 1960s hippy elements too andwhat looks like the underside of a balloon abovethe bar plus lots of original Art Nouveaudetailing. And wall-to-wall yuppies now.

The Prince Albert, a wonderful construction of etched glassand carved wood. MrWhite tells me that such “gin palaces”where built, with grants, as high-minded antidotes to thesqualor of 18th-century drinking dens (literally public houses—someone’s house that was open for public drinking).You canjust see the odd doors into this snug, through which you haveto duck down.

More of the amazing architecturaldetail in the Prince Albert

Etched glass detail in the PrinceAlbert.That’s Scarheart in theforeground with a severe haircut

The sumptuous interior of theWarrington Hotel

One of the lamps from theWarrington

Artemis slickly takes to his duties asumbrella monitor, though Buntyclearly doesn’t trust him with his

wine that is excellent for sipping on its own, andmatches well with goat cheese and lighter typesof fish. It also matches well with somenotoriously difficult-to-pair foods (especiallyasparagus and sushi). Most of it is grown inCalifornia, and is of generally good quality.Pinot Gris (Pinot Blanc) and Pinot Noir grapes

flourish in Oregon, and make some trulymemorable wines. Pinot Gris from Oregon, inparticular, tends to have a lovely spicy qualitythat may seem odd in a white wine, but adds a

warmth and characterunmatched by mostother whites. Pinot Noir,on the other hand, is anotoriously fussy grapethat is often badlyhandled elsewhere; butagain, I have foundOregon Pinot Noirs tobe restrained, subtle,and elegant: exactly thesort of treatment thatthis grape requires.Syrah is an ancient

grape that is increasingin popularity in theUnited States: itproduces very powerful,full-bodied wines thatmatch well with oursplendid beef. Californiais the main producer ofSyrah here in America,and California Syrahsare predictably rich,warm and sunny incharacter (try one with aparticularly good

hamburger…it’s divine!).Zinfandel is my favourite red variety, and is

also a confusing and touchy subject in theAmerican wine world. Confusing, because a lotof Americans understand “Zinfandel” to besynonymous with “White Zinfandel”. “WhiteZinfandel” is a (usually) insipid pink wine forthose who don’t know any better. ProperZinfandel, on the other hand, is a powerful,luscious red that stands up well to grilled meats,though dry Zinfandel can be a strangely goodmatch for sushi. Zinfandel has a high sugarcontent, and its alcohol level can nudge

The New Sheridan Club Newsletter 10 No. XXIII, September 2008

ESSAYS OF NOTE AND WORTH

You Mean They Can MakeWine in America?

By Lainie Petersen

IT MAY COME as ashock to some of ourclub members, but it istrue: Americans havebeen known to eschewcold fizzy lager for wineon occasion. In fact, weproduce quite a bit ofit right here in theFormer Colonies. It isalso true, however, that much of our wine(particularly that which seems to be featured onthe websites of UK stockists) is not veryinteresting. Still, there are some truly wonderfulwines (as well as the merely tasty) produced inAmerica, and some of them are even availablein the UK. In what will be a monthly columnhere in the NSC Newsletter, I will beintroducing club members to some of myfavourites, all of which are available in the UK.But for now, here are some basics aboutAmerican wines.

Varietal vs TerroirAmerican wines are more likely to be identifiedby their grape (and in the case of blends) bytheir colour than where they are produced. OnAmerican wine labels, for example, one willoften see an identification of the type of grapesused in the production of the wine featuredmore prominently than any other information.(Incidentally, the location identified on anAmerican wine label refers to where the winewas bottled, not where the grapes were grown.)When Americans order or discuss wine, theytypically will speak of it in terms of its varietal(i.e. an American ordering a glass of wine willask for Pinot Noir or Chardonnay rather than

Burgundy or a white Burgundy, respectively). Ifan American requests, say, a glass of Burgundy,Bordeaux, or Chablis, this can mean one of twothings: the American knows a thing or twoabout “terroir” or the American is completelyignorant of wine and is only ordering this waybecause this is what they have seen done in themovies.

Fortunately, however, Americans arebecoming progressively more sophisticatedabout wine and are developing a keen interestnot only in grape varietals, but in terroir as well.Movies such as Sideways, plus the interest ingood food and cooking in general, have helpedthis interest along. One of the more excitingdevelopments in American wine has been theproliferation of small vineyards across thecountry, including some in the southern part ofmy own state of Illinois. It is becoming moreand more common for Americans to inquireafter their wine’s pedigree, because they havediscovered that terroir does indeed influence awine’s character and that certain growingregions do produce better wines than others.

American Wine RegionsWinemaking has spread throughout the FormerColonies: one can now purchase wine made inNew York, Michigan, Illinois, and numerousother states. However, much of our wine (andcertainly the most widely distributed wine) isgrown and made on the West Coast: California,Oregon, and Washington. Here is a quickintroduction to these winemaking areas (as wellas my personal opinions of each):California: California is our pre-eminent

wine-making state, accounting for 90 per centof American wine production. As such, thewine produced in California ranges from trulyawful (think “White Zinfandel”) to trulysublime. I find that “ordinary” California winestend to be just that: ordinary, dull, andunmemorable (though they also aren’tparticularly offensive: I reserve that designationfor some of the French and Argentinean swill Ihave had the misfortune of sampling). GoodCalifornia wines are both sunny and unctuous,much like the state itself.Oregon: Oregon ranks third among American

states in number of vineyards (behindCalifornia and Washington). However, as far asI am concerned, Oregon simply makes the best

wines that America has to offer. Oregonianwines, particularly those from the WillametteValley, are extraordinarily balanced, remindingme of good French wines. Oregon wines aresubtle and relaxed: Quite nice for sipping aswell as pairing with foods when one wants thefood to take center stage.Washington (the state of Washington, not our

nation’s capital): Washington is second toCalifornia in wine production, and boasts ofover eighty grape varietals in its vineyards, mostof which are located inits Columbia Valley.However, I am lessfond of its offeringsthan those of Oregon.Washington wines canindeed be delicious,but I have found acertain “dusty” qualityin many of them.

American WineVarietalsThere are many grapetypes in the UnitedStates, but some of themost popular are:Cabernet Sauvignon,

Merlot, and Chardonnay:These are probably thebest-known, and mostavailable (particularlyby the glass in bars andrestaurants), varietalsin the United States.Unfortunately, thepopularity of thesegrapes also means thattheir wines can be incredibly pedestrian. Evenworse is the fact that many Americans just don’tknow any better, andthink that over-oaked/rancid-butter-tastingchardonnay, uninspired merlot, and heavy-handed cabernet are what wine should tastelike. This is a sad thing, because I have alsohad some incredibly delicious wines madefrom all three of these grapes. Check trustedratings sources before buying any of theseAmerican-made wines, particularly thoseproduced in California.Sauvignon Blanc (Fume Blanc) is a crisp white


Mysterious TelegramTHE FOLLOWING missive has been received at the Club, along witha tattered packet of daguerreotypes:

01.09.08

ORIGINATING OFFICE:CHRISTCHURCH CENTRAL PO

TO:SHERIDAN CLUB C/O WHEATSHEAF RATHBONE PLACE LONDON

HAVE RECENTLY RETURNED TO CHRISTCHURCH FOLLOWING WEEKS ADVENTURE

WITH DR LEAVINGSOON STOP FULL REPORT WILL BE MADE UPON

RETURN TO BLIGHTY STOP MANY TALES OF HIGH ADVENTURE STOP

REPAIRING WILLYS JEEP WITH A STICK AND SOME STRING STOP

TEMPERATURES COLD ENOUGH TO FREEZE BALLS BRASS MONKEY

STOP RAINFORESTS DESERTS PLAINS AND MOUNTAINS PLUS TWO

OCEANS ALL IN FIVE DAYS STOP HAVE POSTED PHOTOGRAPHS FOR

CLUBS ENJOYMENT STOP GOD SAVE THE QUEEN STOP OLIVER LANE


Curiositypiqued?Wepromise to prisethe full reportfrom Lane’sfrostbittenfingers andpublish it nextissue…

upwards to 15 per cent(which can result in somereally lovely dessert wines). Inany case, when offered,ordering, or speaking aboutthis wine to an American, itis wise to remember theconfusion between white and“real” Zinfandel in order toavoid mutualembarrassment.

The “touchy” aspect ofZinfandel is the result of the(relatively recent) debunkingof the notion that Zinfandelis a native American grape.(Genetic testing has revealed,that it is identical to theItalian Primativo grape.) This has led to hurtfeelings among some in the American winecommunity, so it is best to tread lightly in thismatter. Again, California leads the pack in itsproduction: if you ever have the opportunity totry Turley Zinfandels, do so. They aremagnificent.Rieslings and Gewürztraminers are the two

exceptions to my general indifference towardWashington wines. Because of their tendencytoward sweetness, many American Rieslingsand Gewürztraminers can take on a sticky orutterly flat/sweet character that reminds one ofspiked Kool-Aid. On the other hand, truly goodexamples of each varietal make wonderfulpairings with Asian foods, andthose from Washington not onlytend to be well-crafted, but aretypically bargains to boot.

Finding American Wines inthe UKFinding decent Americanwines in the UK can indeedbe a challenge, but here are acouple of suggestions:

● If you encounter anAmerican wine that you like,look up the winemaker’swebsite. Somewhere on the site(usually in the footer) you willfind a link that readssomething along the lines of“For the Trade”: Click on it,

and there should be a list ofthe winemaker’s distributors.If there is one in the UK,you can either contact themand ask which shops stockthe wines or ask your localstockist to order some for youvia that distributorship.

● An importantadvantage of loyallypatronizing small specialtyshops is the earned privilegeof being able to speak to theproprietor about specialorders and stocking what yourequire. Of course somespecialty wine shops willlikely have several excellent

American wines on offer, while others may wellbe quite eager to hear your suggestions,particularly if you can provide them withinformation on the UK distributor.

IN ANY CASE, I do appreciate the members ofthe New Sheridan Club indulging this FormerColonial’s enthusiasm for her country’sviniculture. I hope that these columns proveboth useful and aid in the appreciation of someof the truly fine wines my country produces.Until then, I wish everyone a fine transition intoFall, with the expectation of the sorts of rich,hearty foods (and wines to match) that we alldesire with such glee. Bon appetit!

The vineyards of the TedeschiWinery at Ulupalakua Ranch on Maui, which sells 28,000cases of wine a year. The biggest problem they face is that the soil and climate are justtoo fertile and the grapes mature too quickly to develop the desired flavours

(Right)Paul withhis bandTheeAwkwardSilencesactuallyhad morepeople onstagethanHoover-ville.That’sNiall onthe left

(Left and above) NSCresident poet NiallSpooner-Harveydelivers a typicallyunderstated perfor-mance; (above right)Mr B. the GentlemanRhymer warms to hissubject and (right)unleashes his trade-mark dance; (top) hebrandishes his briar:“My pipe smells nice,check one...”

(Left)Hoovervillehad so manyinstrumentsthey left twoof them behindwhen theywent home

(Top right) Each act had avaudevillean board announcingthem; (above right) theatricalistsHooverville wowed with theirmusicianship; (above) it starts sonicely for the Furbelows then (farright) gets nasty; (right) PaulHawkins squares up toWillowand (below) disciplines an acolyte

Cirque de Crème AnglaiseComes to Town

JUST AS THE weather smiled on us for theTashes, so too last Thursday was a balmyevening—although this was irrelevant as thesalient event took place inside a low andwindowless bar: the Cirque de Crème Anglaise,an evening of music, and a little poetry, with atheatrical, humorousflavour, hosted by thebeat combo TheFurbelows. Not aNSC event by anymeans, but sixMembers appearedon the stage andmany more werelurking in theaudience. As yourhumble snapper washimself performingin The Furbelows,my hearty thanks goMr Ian Kelleher forthe photographs ofthat band.

FOR THE LAST three years, Actuarius has entered hisvehicle, Banshee, racing as “Scuderia Sheridan”, into theScumball Rally—much like the Gumball Rally, with theimportant exception that every car must have cost nomore than £500. Consequently, keeping the vehicles onthe road is a major part of the challenge. Here wepresent the full team diary for this year.

Its All About the Weather:Scuderia SheridanTeam Diary 2008

IntroductionHaving prevaricated at the end of the 2007event, as to whether I would enter in 2008, Ilasted all of two weeks before signing up. Now,sat sipping a Bellini in the comfort of home, Ican scarcely believe that a third Scumball Rallyhas been and gone. Miss G-M agreed to co-pilot again so Scuderia Sheridan remainedunchanged and were once more ready to sailforth into foreign lands—bringing the word ofChappism to the un-Tweeded. All went welluntil the Friday before the off when a problemwith the rear silencer manifested itself. Theproblem was that it needed to be carried in thepassenger footwell being no longer attached tothe rest of the exhaust system. A trip to themechanic had it welded back, although mymechanic friend insisted we take his light weightjack—not a good sign when you think aboutit—and a special tool for reaching the JubileeClip on the bottom hose, our one known area ofmechanical concern. We were hamperedfurther still by our Gin supplier leaving us highand dry two weeks before the off. A Scumballwithout the Scuderia Sheridan cocktail partywas simply inconceivable but, thanks to thesterling efforts of Team Shaguar, a Mr Ash ofCrown Drinks, Newhaven stepped in and mostgenerously saved the day. —ActuariusCat booked into cattery: CheckCocktail dress back from laundry: CheckGood weather on order with God: Check

Sponsorship: chasing up stragglersDriving gloves… DRIVING GLOVES… blast must go

shopping (like I needed an excuse!)Gin? Where’s the Gi… What do you mean there’s no

Gin? GET SOME GIN! —Miss G-M

Thursday 17/04/08A morning slaving at work was followed bychanging into something more suitable foradventuring abroad. Miss G-M turned up whilstI was loading Banshee to ensure that I at leastgot out of Bognor without getting lost. Werendezvoused as planned with half a dozenother teams at Fontwell where one of thestretch limos had to have a coolant leak fixed bythe insertion of a gazebo leg into the system,combined with the miracle of “Duck Tape”.The car had managed to get all the way fromPortsmouth (a matter of ten miles or so) beforebreaking down. “It looks bad if Switzerland ison the cards again,” I thought. As if they hadread my mind and wished to prove me wrongthis crew later headed from France to the Swissborder—whilst the rest of us went to Germany.But I am getting ahead of myself. We also metthe West Country BA Baracus for the first timewho kept us hugely entertained randomlyshouting about “not doing drugs”, “getting somenuts” and the like. It looked as if this year wasgoing to be every bit as surreal as the past two.

We reached the Essex Arena oval circuit, thelocation for the launch party, without furtherproblems and were directed to park by thestadium. I was glad to see Tina (the V8powered mark 3 Cortina) there as every day forthe two months leading up to the event hadrevealed news—alternately good and bad—about her progress. Thankfully her owner is akind of automotive Fagin who teaches at atechnical college and had sent young urchins upthe side pipes and into the engine bay to get herready in time. One or two of them may stillhave been in there for all I knew. It was freezingcold but I kept my spirits up by thinking of thetraditionally warm continental weather thatawaited us—how little I knew. —ActuariusAs you can imagine the morning of the event was a

hectic one, especially if you add in taking the cat to acattery and also fitting in a meeting with a prospectiveemployer, so I packed the car prior to all the rushingaround so I knew if need be I could rendezvous withActuarius at the allotted time (if only I could remember

what that was!)Unlike last year the party was a few miles away so,

having arrived early, we leisurely packed Banshee andheaded off in good time to meet our Scumball comrades.It was a glorious afternoon as we motored toward ourfirst meeting point. Upon arrival we spotted an Americanstars and stripes in the shape of a limo, and a largeblack Jeep. We were soon met by other teams, but notbefore the second limo had a quick repair of a very wetheating matrix which had failed en route to the initialmeeting point. —Miss G-M

Along with the rest of the Scumballcontingent I took part in a demonstration drivearound the track. I had been looking forward tohanging Banshee’s tail out but a surprisinglygrippy surface and window high kerbsprecluded crowd-pleasing shenanigans. The barafterwards was thankfully warm, not only

through the central heating but also therenewing of friendships with teams who hadreturned to the event once more. Closing timecame and it was off to Dover, Miss G-M takingher first spell behind the wheel. Our arrival atDover was marked by the Unscum Heroesdoing a couple of laps around a roundabout,their Golf GTi cocking a rear wheel in the airlike an errant puppy against one’s favouritetelephone table. They had obviously gained ataste for “oval racing” in Essex. Within sight ofthe port terminal itself we hit a detour. Thistook us through Dover, out the other side, acrossa stretch of countryside, seemingly all the wayback into Essex and then down into the dock—

where they promptly refused to let us in.Probably a good job as the “Delirious” (a VWScirocco superbly made up as the “Back to theFuture” DeLorean) was passing petrol like anincontinent dipsomaniac passes water. Finallyonto the dock side and we could try to sleep inthe car whilst others took up the curioustraditional event pastime of “photographingpeople whilst they are asleep”. —ActuariusWe arrived at the party fashionably late, as one

would expect, where we signed up and pledged oursponsorship of £800, which we were more than pleasedwith given that 5 days prior to the event we were over£100 shy of the required £500. With some morepleading and shaking of the money box we were amazedat how generous our benefactors had been again this year.Once all the documents had been signed Banshee was

given the go for a parade lap around the Oval, whichdelighted Actuarius. Rather than be a passenger Itook photos from the sidelines hoping to get a goodshot of the steed in action. As closing timeapproached the journey to Dover and the 6.30amferry beckoned. Actuarius handed the keys over sothat I could get a taste for Banshee’s handlingcharacteristics before getting onto the FrenchHighways. Upon the last approach to the dockyardwe were hit by an unexpected diversion. Twicearound the roundabout we finally headed out oftown again for what seemed like miles, only to beturned back in to town arriving just yards awayfrom where we had been 25 minutes prior! Wepulled up along side the others who had an earlyget away, or had zoomed passed us en route,inspected some of the rides and stood back as theDelirious was patched up having sprung a ratherunfortunate fuel leak. —Miss G-M

Friday 18/04/08The morning broke cold and grey, matching usperfectly. Onto the ferry and an uneventfulcrossing, bar “Unscum Hero” Martin ratherregretting the burger of the night before. In factdue to being a tad “delicate” we both missedthe briefing and sent the co-drivers instead. Icould really feel the difference that getting a fewhours comfortable sleep, post launch party, hadmade on the previous events. Onto the car deckfor disembarkation and air-horns blared alongwith motor-cyclists playing the fool, it was justlike we were picking up where we had left offthe year before. I treated the Gendarme on thedock exit at Calais to my brightest “Good

Formation parking team does us proud


morning!” and received a lecture on safedriving in return. “But my dear fellow, we drivelike saints!” I implored. “If you arr caughtspeedink ze ral-aiz will be over for you,” hereplied. I couldn’t help but speculate that theCaptain had got lost and we had landed inGermany rather than France. —ActuariusSleep that Thursday night was patchy at best,

although comfortable, Banshee was not a luxury hotelthat someone such as myself is often accustomed to.Firstly we were woken to pass through passport controland then line up on the docks where we got a few more ofthe 40 winks we needed, though we were disturbedintermittently with a loud speaker telling us about thingsthat at that point we didn’t care about! But soon enoughdawn came and we were ushered on to the boat anddirected to the lounge dedicated to us Scumballers.Unfortunately where this lounge was, was something ofa mystery, so we got coffee and breakfast before I wassent on my way to find the others and get the low downon where we were off to. —Miss G-M

As seems to be tradition, Eastenders boozoiresaw the off—and it was freezing cold. I wasbeginning to spot something of a trend.Monsieur le Plod tailed us out of Calais andthen we were finally on our way, Scumballingproper. We were fortunate to be part of acouple of convoys as we headed South,confirming the wisdom of having installed a“Sea Bee” radio for the first time. The generalbanter and our introduction to a really ratherfilthy game were hysterical. On the other handthe pornographic material shown to us by theItalian Stallions as they accelerated past in theirbeautifully liveried Quattro can best bedescribed as “educational”. —ActuariusThe first stop was Eastenders to pick up the essential

fuels for the trip, namely ale, wine and port. This stopcoincided with the first route card pick up; once all filledwe headed to a petrol station for Banshee’s own fuel anda new, more detailed map of the French country side,then the navigation began in earnest. —Miss G-M

Miss G-M took over driving again as weapproached Paris and decided that thePeripherique was not for us. A detour aroundthe outside of France’s fair capital may havetaken longer but by return was really ratherpretty. I can now also, finally, confirm that it ispossible to fall asleep in the passenger seat ofBanshee. The next stop gave us the first chanceto check that bottom hose. The rigid sectionhad, in the preceding couple of months,

demonstrated a propensity for working its wayinto a disconnected state. From here on, everystop would be accompanied by lifting thebonnet and peering worriedly down at it. Twothirds of the way to our target, Nevers, wepassed the National Arboretum. This wasmarked by labelled lines of trees alongside theroad, a little piece of Gallic flair sadly unlikelyever to be seen in Britain. The pieces ofsculpture that ran alongside miles of motorwaya little later, and which were thoroughlylambasted over the sea-bee by those renownedart critics “The Men in Black”, will beequally—but this time thankfully—forevermissing from the British verge.

The end of the last piece of Peage broughtwith it not only a scramble for the ticket butalso a spotcheck by theGendarme. Aquestion as towhether wehad beendrinking andwe were on ourway, ourfeelings ofpersecutionbeing dispelledby a nativevehicle being“pulled”behind us. Itstarted torain—“Quellesurprise,” asour Galliccousins wouldno doubt put it. After lapping Nevers, abeautiful medieval town, a few times we foundthe checkpoint. We then took another threequarters of an hour to find the campsite, evenwith help from home via the field telephone.The really annoying thing was that we were“flashed” by a speed camera on our fourth trippast the airport. No invitation to visit theBastille has been received yet from the FrenchMinistry for Errant Motoristas but we awaitdevelopments with trepidation. All of thismeant I was not in the best of moods when wefinally turned up at the soggy campsite next tothe—not so much “raging” as “a touch

petulant”—river. The inclement weatherthwarted our plan of holding the cocktail partythat night and things got worse as the promisedbarbecue was rather late. All along, the sirencall of the bright hotel lights across the riverwere beckoning me to warmth and comfort.Eventually I succumbed, heading off to get aroom for the night. Secure parking for an extra,well spent, 5 Euros meant I slept soundlywithout worrying about Banshee. In fact I wasin the room, into bed and asleep within 15minutes. I had toyed with the idea oftelephoning down to reception to complainabout the noise from the campsite across theriver but the irresistible pull from the realms ofMorpheus proved too strong to be denied forthe mere sake of childish larks. —ActuariusIt was suggested quite strongly by the driver that

Paris should be avoided at all costs, so the route wasplanned with this in mind. Some time later I passed theclosely guarded reins of navigation over to the driver andtook the main seat myself for a time before swappingback again. Most of the journey was uneventful until wegot to our destination of Nevers; although we spotted thesign for the check point, it promptly disappeared as wegot closer. Eventually we did find the shop and stoppedoff for the items that we required. The next trick was tofind the camp site.Unfortunately this was not sign posted. The ground

crew helped by explaining: “Just after the airport, there’sa train station with a bridge near by and it’s on the otherside of the river.”This was true. However, beyond the airport there

were in fact two train stations on either side of the town,both very near to bridges…We did find the campsite eventually and I was happy

to see that my tent and bed had already been prepared,but it was raining. Actuarius at this point mumbledsomething about the cold and wet, bade us good night,jumped into Banshee and promptly drove off to warmer,dryer climates in a local hotel. —Miss G-M

Saturday 19/04/08I awoke to the shock realisation that it wasn’training. A check of Banshee was accompaniedby applying some of the exhaust sealant thatMartin and Miss G-M bought the eveningbefore, along with various other suppliesdeemed as being absolutely essential. Miss G-Mhad mentioned fumes getting into the cabin afew times throughout the previous day—citingdizziness, passing out, bleeding eyes and other

minor symptoms, which could have beenanything, as proof. The malleable gunk seemedto solve the problem.

Having returned to the campsite I sloped inlike some latter day deserter and ascertainedthat none of the Scumballers next to the riverhad been washed away. Thankfully Martin andHugh (the “Unscum Heroes”) fell into the roleof faithful staff, providing tea and generallyhelping out in making life more civilised. Myspirits were lifted still further with the news thatwe were heading for the Nürburgring!

—ActuariusIt was a very wet night, and being camped next to a

raging river was a concern to say the least, but we awokethe next day to rainless skies and a little bit of sunshine!Upon returning from the on site facilities (where Inoticed that the previous day’s rouge colour had worn off)I found Actuarius sipping tea that had been supplied bythe staff. In due time we were called for the briefing andour next destination was divulged. Off to Germany wego, with accompanying paper work advising the GermanAuthorities what the event was about, a wise moveconsidering the fun we had last year within that territory!

—Miss G-MOff we sped, stopping for cigars at the first

village we came to. There we were treated tothe sight of a convoy of Scumballers goingthrough with horns sounding and lights flashingwhilst bemused locals looked on. I canrecommend this accidental discovery to anyScumballer—the role of spectator providing acompletely different perspective on the event.Once on the road again, Banshee and Bosch(the Unscum Golf) presumably seeming like twogarishly decaled white terriers chasing throughthe countryside, we had a fantastic run throughflat, open valleys spoilt only by kamikaze localdrivers and mobile chalets. The most bizarresight was an old boy pottering along in one ofthose strange little motorised half-heightPortaloos one only ever gets in France, wearinga battered hat that seemed to form exactly thesame silhouette as his car. As we flashed pasthim I fully expected to see him spinning like atop in my rear view mirror. A moment of déjà-vucame with a church sporting a massive statue ofChrist on the roof near Troyes. It brought tomind the first year—I had passed this waybefore with young Artemis asleep in thepassenger seat. Now I was here again—withMiss G-M asleep in the passenger seat.

Well, hellooo...


One of our infrequent stops at a servicestation was fortunate as it saw us join anotherconvoy, yielding a few more hours of extremelyfunny infantile sea-bee-based humour(something that could not possibly be repeatedin such an august organ as the ScuderiaSheridan Team Diary) as we sped North into

Germany. Therain came oncemore and theotherScumballersmanaged to loseus as we came offthe motorway.No matter; MissG-M drove usalong a stunningvineyard-ladenvalley throughthe mist whilstbarges plied theirtrade along theriver. I could nothelp but wonderif this was thehome of such

legendary wines as “Blue Nun” and “BlackTower”, so beloved of the connoisseur backhome? The drizzle grew more persistent as,joining the major road network again, we flewpast Tina. Then off the main drag and throughsome delightfully—but unsurprisingly, given thehigh moisture content of the air seemingly allover Europe—verdant valleys to our campsiteright next to the legendary Nürburgring. Dampand cold I turned in to spend the nightshivering and awake in my tent. “This must bethe secret preparation Schumacher used to gainhis edge,” I thought. I was sure I would reap thebenefits around the track on the morrow.—ActuariusWe again shared the driving through France and

Germany. Most of the day was sunny; however, as wegot closer to our destination it did get a little chilly andthe fog started to come in. Driving through the town welooked on in awe at some of the local traffic parked upalong the road, there were some lovely specimens of motorengineering which we could only coo at. With the help ofScumballers who had already arrived we found the campsite with little difficulty. That evening we were treated tofull facilities of hot water and food supplied in a little

tavern just next to where the Scumballers were camped.As we went to bed in the fog we all hoped that it

would have passed by morning and that the sun wouldshine so everyone could enjoy a lap or two of the ring….

—Miss G-M

Sunday 20/04/08I must have slept at some point as I awoke earlyto a surprisingly misty morning. The surprisingaspect being that I had believed the night beforethat it could not possibly get any worse. Havingloitered in the shower block for an hour, tryingto get warm in front of the radiator whilsttalking loudly about Rugby to divert anysuspicious thoughts some may have hadregarding my motivation for staying there, Ireturned to the camping area. On the way Iwas treated to the sight of the Celica coming upthe cinder-paved access road through the mist,overhanging trees on one side and huge logspiled on the other. A shiver passed down myspine that was nothing to do with the weather.It really was like a ghostly echo of an early 90’sRAC rally.

Hot tea courtesy of the Unscum Heroesonce more saw us prepared for the off, today toAmsterdam. Most people had gone when one ofthe other teams decided it would be fun tothrow their car into “drifts” at speed up anddown the camping area. The speed of this gaveme some disquiet which turned into “definiteworry” when the driver appeared to be caughtout by his mount suddenly gaining grip andfiring off across a deep ditch. It lookedspectacular but I took this as a cue toimmediately move Banshee out of the area. Iwent and found Martin to recommend he movehis Golf when we heard a crash. Fearing theworst we were grateful to see that they had putit into a tree. Tree: one, Scumballers: nil, andall-round relief that there was no need forinjury time. —ActuariusWe awoke the next day to find that the fog had

lingered much to many people’s disappointment. We hadthe team briefing and we were informed that the trackwas in fact closed due to the weather but it was hoped tobe open soon. We were given a full brief as to the rulesof driving on the circuit. A cut down version of theserules are: If you crash you have to pay for the repair tothe barrier. You have to drive on the right, overtake on theleft and if someone crashes into you it’s your fault.

—Miss G-M

Leaving them to sweep up the pieces wefound the legendary Nordschlief was shut dueto the fog and although some teams waited anddrove it, we did not. I was secretly relieved dueto the fact that we had the camping gear in theback and two days still left to go. As the weatherhad been so bad, that evening was also our lastchance to hold our cocktail party, necessitatingan early arrival in Amsterdam to set it up. Apart of me felt it was a pity, though,nonetheless, particularly as the chance to get amatching sticker to go with the“ISLEOFWHITERING” on Banshee’s rump wasdenied us. Over the first hill and we broke intobright sunshine—perhaps things were lookingup at last? Just us and the Golf in convoy alongtwisting, hilly roads with plenty of stretchesdevoid of traffic meant we had an absolutelyblinding run for the first section of that day’sjourney. At one point we had one of the newV10 Audis behind, the driver obviously keen toplay, but every time we scampered off hedropped back unable to keep up. —ActuariusBy the time we departed the camp and tried to find

the entrance to the ring it was obvious that the weatherwas there to stay. We passed a variety of cars all lookingfor the start, not to mention other Scumballers. As wehad our route cards we set the Chap Nav in motion andheaded towards our Dutch destination.As we headed over the hill the Sun came out and the

fog cleared. Following the Golf along windy switchbacks we sped. In fact the route was complimented as avery good consolation for not being on the track. (Later indiscussion with Scumballers who frequent the Germanone-way toll road, we learned that this was the route ofchoice for those wanting just a little more fun on the wayhome.) —Miss G-M

It stayed warm and for the first time it reallydid feel like proper Scumball weather. Lots ofexpensive cars and bikes heading in theopposite direction gave us something to look atas we headed North yet again, but by far themost interesting was a group of modified OpelAsconas—Banshee’s German cousins. A stop atthe last service station before Amsterdam fordirections found a very helpful toilet attendantwho all but pushed the cars to the campsitehimself. And what a campsite we found!Looking out across the water and surroundedby small pastel-coloured clapboard coastalvillages, it really was rather idyllic. Tent hastilyerected, we prepared for the party. There was

no sign of Team Shaguar with the Gin but theScumball organisational team stepped in anddonated a case of “Eastenders Dog’s Bollocks”fizz. It was one of their better vintages Iguessed, quite possibly even this year’s. Otherteams kindly responded to the cry for help anddonated beer, vodka and what seemed like 1litre bottles of colourful aftershave. We foundourselves surrounded by fellow adventurers inties, black tie and even cocktail dresses andfeather boas. Thanks to this wonderful turn out,the Scuderia Sheridan area was transformedinto an oasis of sophisticated elegance in thecorner of a foreign field that was, at leasttemporarily, England. We proposed the loyaltoast, were interviewed by the televisual crewand felt relieved that finally we had managed tohave everyone over for drinks. AnotherScumball tradition maintained!

Following this we all piled into buses for amystery tour around closed roads and housingestates, with roads barely wide enough for a car,before finally getting into the centre ofAmsterdam for the official party. Admittedlythere was no sign of a pole, let alone thepromised pole dancer, and the exotic dancersmost definitely weren’t, but it was rather a jollyevening. I commented on the Baroque ceiling ofthe venue to Astraboy who murmuredsomething about “bass bins” and “bangingtunes” or some such. Despite this I felt sure he

was enjoying himself. The evening was made allthe more fun by Martin renaming Amsterdam“Prague”—as he was no longer capable ofsaying “Amsterdam.” During the taxi ride homewe discovered that the campsite was so far offthe beaten track that it blew up the local “sat

The staff show off an alarmingtaste in pyjamas

Just a packet of crisps—I’m driving


nav” system. This was presumably “Windows”based as the problem was solved by switchingthe car off then switching it back on again.

—ActuariusThe weather stayed true for the rest of the day, so we

journeyed to Amsterdam in sunshine, sharing the drivingonce more. Given that this was the last evening of theevent we had set plans for the famed Scuderia Sheridancocktail party. We just hoped that the Gin would arriveon schedule (i.e. before the party).On the outskirts of the famous city we stopped for a

little picnic at a service station, and while we were theredecided it was prudent to work out where our campsitewas located. We left this to the staff who were in theGolf. After some time they returned smiling and led us tothe campsite without a hitch.

It was a beautiful sunny evening as we drove alongthe seashore to where our camp was located and wearrived in good time ahead of much of the field. We setto work preparing for the cocktail party. I sent out theinvites and headed off to slip into something a little moreelegant; but we were still awaiting the key ingredient ofthe party, namely the Gin.As the evening was pressing on the Scumball crew

saved us and donated some rather fine vintage Eastendersbubbly (a 2007 fizzy, alcoholic, soda water). Well,what else could we do without the Gin? And the partygot into full swing, with many making the effort to dressappropriately for the evening… well at least they put atie on if nothing else. [Shudders at the memory of alarge-girthed man in a mankini who then jumped into thesea—and returned without said mankini.]So the evening was in full swing and we were bussed

in two coaches to the town for a party. The coach took us

through some very little roads which were almost toosmall for such a vehicle but we did eventually manageto make it to our destination, where we were promiseda party—and something else for the gentlemen, namelyan influx of lovely ladies with whom they might havethe pleasure of dancing. Alas the influx was more ofa dribble so many of the Scumballers headed out tofind other famous sites of the Dutch city, while theUnscum Heros and Scuderia Sheridan headed off fora slap-up meal.We hailed a cab back to the delightful campsite, and

the driver entered the details of the place into his littleautoroutefinder-thingimebob, then drove around for awhile in confusion as it tried to take us the wrong waydown one-way streets. No such things ever happen withthe Chap Nav, I thought to myself. Eventually, with theage-old technique of turning the thing off and then onagain, he re-entered the details and, rather than leadingus across open water, the route was penned for roads backto our desired location. —Miss G-M

Monday 21/04/08Another bright, if not overwhelmingly hot,morning and opening the tent released a waft ofwarm air. I could not help but wonder if I hadmade the right decision? Kneeling on theground sheet all heat instantly drained from mylegs and immediately dispelled any doubt. Anyfeeling of balmy spring was further removed bythe washing facility being a large circular stonevat with half a dozen taps (cold water only)stemming from the centre. It felt like it was leftover from a 16th-century monastery but, as itwasn’t raining or misty or snowing, it wasentirely bearable.

After a civilised breakfast in a hutoverlooking the water we led a convoy ofScumballers around a circuitous route of closedroads and housing estates horribly familiar fromthe night before. We took the opportunity to“buzz” a lone roller-blader who, alas, did nothave the decency to consequently fall into thecanal that ran alongside the road in a comicalmanner. —ActuariusBreakfast was taken that morning on site and

consisted of toasted cheese sandwiches with tea, with alovely sunny seaside view. Given the size of the campsiteand the number of cars parked within it the logistics ofgetting out of camp were amusing. —Miss G-M

Reaching the motorway we pointedBanshee’s nose towards Calais, the finaldestination before dear old Blighty! We decided

to bridge spot on the way through Holland (or,as we now referred to it, “windmills, canals,people on bikes—must be Prague”) which atleast took our minds off the appalling roadscausing multiple rubs of the back wheel on theinner wheel arch. We made good time but, aswe crossed into Belgium, we immediately hit atail-back. Slowing to a crawl, we heardexcommunicated Holy-Roller Luke advisingthat it went on for miles and to get off at thefirst exit—which we were just coming up to.Thanks to the warning our wheels didn’t evenstop turning and the white be-stickeredhatchbacks had one last fling at convoyingthrough the towns and villages of Europe,confusing the locals and frightening smallchildren. —Actuarius[Crackle over the radio] “This traffic jam is huge!

Anyone just over the border, get off at Junction 1 andhead to Maeve.”Well, something like that. The traffic was horrendous

and, yes, we managed to take the first junction just intime, so Chap Nav re-routed through the local towns.The villages that we went through were lovely anddisplayed some wonderful Art Nouveau and Decoarchitecture, so a new game of spot the building took upsome more time during the town driving. —Miss G-M

The bottom hose that we had expected torequire constant attention just needed a tweaktwo thirds of the way to the port and wereached our destination with no furtherproblems. For the first time we foundEastenders straightaway and turned up just intime to be presented with the “Piston ofPersistence” (as I have named it), a trophyawarded to the teams with cars that had takenpart in all three Scumball Rallies to date. Therewere three of us, as it happens, and a Magnumof the ubiquitous “Dogs Bollocks” fizz was alsopresented to each team.

The usual mad dash to the ferry resulted inus all lining up on the dockside and my takingthe opportunity to try and recruit a couple ofdelightful ladies in a Triumph GT6 for nextyear’s event. Once on-board we found the ferryto be overrun with children and the elderly;Lord only knows what they made of thetraditional blowing of horns and revving ofengines before disembarkation at Dover. Anunexpected bonus came in the guise of the on-board masseuse and her efforts helped mereturn to feeling “human” again after four days

“in the saddle”. In particular, when she tweakedmy earlobes, it was the warmest they had beensince we had started out. —ActuariusHuzzah! We did win a trophy but due to the traffic

jam encountered earlier in the day some of the teamshadn’t made it to Eastenders by the time we were due todash to the ferry. Though many did dash, some justambled along and waited patiently at the dock. As theScumballers were split up it was a slightly quieter affairdisembarking from the ferry back in Blighty. We did missour delayed comrades… but there’s always next year tomake up for it! —Miss G-M

AddendumI drove us off the ferry but handed Bansheeover to Miss G-M once we were clear of themotorway. Another year over, the Sea-Beefinally silent we motored through the Englishcountryside reminded only of our recentadventure by kamikaze locals overtaking atinopportune moments. It was good to be home.

—Actuarius

It must be Prague

CLUB NOTES

Comfy BoxesBy Artemis Scarheart

BELOW YOU WILL find the letter that was sentwith the Comfy Boxes to Afghanistan and theletter that was received back from the front.Due to a post room full of my enemies theboxes were delayed going out; but they did goout and it was very heartening to return to mygarret one day and see a “bluey” waiting for menext to all the empty gin bottles I really mustget around to throwing away one day.

We sent out conkers on strings, biscuits, lipbalm, hot sauces for rations, snacks, nuts andthe like and it was free to do so under the RoyalMail BPFO conditions. We used boxes fromChurch’s shoes as they are particularly strongand could make the journey without breakingapart in the back of a delivery van/boat/


parcels that arrive for soldiers.Please accept my thanks on behalf of all

those who benefit from your kindness and foryour very encouraging letter.

The last weeks have been particularlydemanding and attritional and I have not beenable to respond to your parcels. Keep thinkingof us!

With every good wish,Yours,Padre Nick Cook

New Hope AfterTie Drought

APOLOGIES GO TO the ten Members who haverecently asked to purchase a Club tie: I’m afraidthat our original batch had completely run out.

The good news is that we have now foundthe funds to place a new order, which is beingwoven by tweedy gnomes as you read this andshould be in the Club warehouse in a few weeks.

am hijacking to mark my decrepitude. TheFurbelows are on stage first at 8pm, and offagain by 8.25pm, after which I imagine I’ll begetting drunk and making myself sick on cake.There are, moreover, another four bands towatch.

The Cavendish Arms is a stylish new venuethat is rapidly building a reputation for itself.Stockwell might not yet be the Camden of theSouth when it comes to live music, but it’s onlya matter of time. The venue is 6 minutes’ walkfrom Stockwell tube station. They’re quiteproud of their pies, too.

East London Heritage WeekendSaturday 13th and Sunday 14th September10am–5pmEast LondonAdmission: Free

A weekend to draw attention to the wealth ofinteresting historic buildings in East London,many of them little known and rarely open tothe public, organized by the Heritage ofLondon Trust. Throughout the weekend therewill be many free guided walks around theunsung delights of Tower Hamlets, taking inthe rare 18th-century interior of St George’sGerman Lutheran Church, Alie Street, Aldgate,the fascinating maritime and tomb monumentsat St Dunstan’s and All Saints, Stepney Green,and even the exceptional Victorian interior ofWilton’s Music Hall.

Alternatively you can follow any of the 13different heritage trails described in the freeguidebook. This has been written by BridgitCherry, the lady who updates Pevsner, who willbe leading one of the guided walks aroundShadwell.

For more information and a copy of the trailguide, send a stamped addressed envelope (8.5ins x 4.5 ins) to The Heritage of London Trust,38 Ebury Street, London, SW1W 0LU, ortelephone 020 7730 9472.

The Hendricks Masked BallSaturday 13th September10pm–3amParker Macmillan, 47 Chiswell Street, LondonEC1Y 4SBTickets £10 in advance (fromwww.thelasttuesdaysociety.org) or £40 for a“family” ticket of five; £15 on the door

So if you had been considering a NSC tie,then now is the time to take the plunge, as themore ties we sell up front the more of theinvestment can be returned to the Club coffersfor vital expenditure, such as massages for theCommittee and our continuing cocktailexperimental work.

The ties are all silk, in equal, wide stripes ofblack, red and silver, with a repeating Club logo“shadow woven” into the black stripe (seephotograph). They are a snip at £15 each (plus£1 if you’d like me to mail it to you, or £2 ifyou live overseas), and are, I should stresss, onlyavailable to Club Members. If you would like topurchase one (or more), send a cheque, madeout to “S. Hartley”, to 16 Kemsing Road,Greenwich, London SE10 0LL.

Forthcoming EventsBlasts from the Past!Saturday 6th and Sunday 7th September11am–4.30pmCliveden, Taplow, Maidenhead,Buckinghamshire SL6 0JA ( 01494 755562)

Up to 700 performers from 40 re-enactmentgroups will present a continuous programme ofdisplays and “living history” encampmentsincluding arms, armour, battles, skirmishes andshoot outs, equestrian skills, military vehiclesand more. Non-military displays include musicand song, everyday life through the ages,cooking, fashion and crafts.

Clayton Hartley’s Birthday BashSaturday 13th September7pm–2amThe Ballroom at the Cavendish Arms,128 Hartington Road, Stockwell,London SW8 2HJAdmission: £5Dress: Best to

Yes, Hartley cheats death for one more year.My actual birthday is on Friday 12th, butSaturday 13th seemed like a better date for thewake. This is frankly a regular pub gig which I

aeroplane. And they also represent a taste ofHome, as they are English made.

Thanks go to our own Major du Barry forproviding us with the name and address of theForce Senior Chaplain for Operation Herrick,without which we could not have sent so muchas a sausage. Thanks also to those who chippedin with what we could send and suggestionssuch as those we had from Ensign Polyethyl.

The Padre is based in Lashkar Gah, thecapital of Helmand province where the Britishare based; the name translates as “place of thesoldiers”.

Dear Sir,Please find enclosed in this box some items

to be handed out to the men and women of theBritish Armed Forces currently deployed withOperation Herrick.

They were donated by members of a Clubwho wanted to put aside any considerations ofpolitics, Left and Right, etc, and to send a“Comfy Box” out to our professional and bravefighting forces to show they have not beenforgotten and that people are thinking of themso far away from their families and in danger.

Some of our members are cadets, active,retired or territorial military personnel, butmost are civilian from a wide range ofbackgrounds, jobs and locations. Most of usread The Chap magazine and it is this thatbrought us together in the first place.

Please distribute the contents as you see fit.We of the New Sheridan Club wish you all welland that you will be reunited safely with yourfriends and loved ones after a job well done.

You have not been forgotten and I hope thissmall gesture shows that.

Yours,Artemis ScarheartTreasurer, The New Sheridan Clubwww.newsheridanclub.co.uk

Lashkar GahFriday 1 August

Dear Friends.Please forgive the delay in writing to thank

you for your generosity, support andencouragement for soldiers in “harm’s way” inAfghanistan.

It’s my privilege to be the Senior Chaplain intheatre and to send on to the Forward areas the


A Letter From Lock’sA LETTER FROM James Lock of St James’s, theClub’s hatters, has just been received as we weregoing to press. Its contents may prove ofinterest to Members, although sadly I note thatthe event clashes with our own Club Night…

Dear Clayton,I hope this finds all well with you and

greetings from everyone at Lock & Co. hatters.I thought that the information might be ofinterest to you for the events section on TheNew Sheridan Club web site?

Please find attached details of IN DARKEST

AFRICA, a charity fund-raising talk by explorerColonel Blashford-Snell on Stanley andLivingstone on 1st October at the RoyalGeographical Society, Kensington Gore, SW72AR.

The talk will be wonderfully illustrated withStanley’s vivid and evocative Victorian magiclantern slides telling the story of hisintrepid journey throughDarkest

Africa in searchof Dr Livingstone. Stanley’s

original slides, an early recording of his voice,his compass (the very one with which he foundLivingstone I presume!) and, by kind permissionof the Royal Geographical Society, Livingstoneand Stanley’s headgear, including some great

colonial style pithhelmets andStanley’s specialpeaked capcustomisedwith a neckflap (as shownon his statueon KensingtonGore outside of the RGS) will be displayed.

Lock & Co., hatters to Colonel Blashford-Snell, are sponsoring the event in support of theMerseyside Youth Association: both Stanley andLivingstone came from humble backgrounds inLiverpool. Lock & Co. has produced theattached postcard and on the evening will showa selection of explorers’ headgear includingsuch traditional tropical styles as the kepi, pithhelmet and the folding panama—the Lock stylesported by Ernest Shackleton on his voyagesouth to the Antarctic.

Tickets are £15 andare

available inadvance (please send a cheque,

made out to The Merseyside Youth Association,to Mrs Anne Gilby, Expedition Base,Motcombe, Shaftesbury, Dorset SP7 9PB, witha SAE) or can be purchased at the door on thenight.

Best wishes,Janet

Dress: Divine decadence: masks obligatoryA special 30th birthday celebration for

Suzette. Music from Too Dumb To Die, TheAlan Weekes Quartet, DJs Penny Metal, DavidTG, Tallulah Louise Newton and The Provostof The Society, His Excellency Mr David Piper.Shy dancing booths will be provided byYouMeBumBumTrain. Kink Inc will present itslatest instalment of erotic life drawingpresenting the seven deadly sins.

Stranger Than Paradise:5th Anniversary PartySaturday 13th September7pm–7amDex Bar and Hotel, 467–469 Brixton Road(above KFC)Admission: £10 in advance, £15 on the door

What a lot of anniversaries there are thisweekend. Expect the usual gypsy punkburlesque melange, plus a hog roast and a freeCD for the first 100 guests. See myspace.com/gypsymadness.

Art Deco Fair at Eltham PalaceSunday 14th September10am–5pmEltham Palace, Court Yard, London SE9 5QE(020 8294 2548)Admission: £8.20 (concessions £6.60, family£20.50)

Browse through stalls selling all things ArtDeco, from jewellery to furniture. The venue isparticularly notable—Eltham Palace is a strangemixture of architectural styles, with an originalTudor great hall and restrained exterior,opening on to some exquisite 1930s roomsadded by the Courtaulds, including a gorgeous

rotunda with inlaid wood panelled walls and aninnovative (for the time) concrete and glassdomed skylight. I seem to recall the diningroom has pink leather upholstery and a silverleaf ceiling. There is even a run for the couple’spet lemur. Note that the entry fee for this fair iswhat you would normally have to pay to see thebuilding anyway, so it is good value. There areextensive gardens too. I can feel a picniccoming on…

Vintage Fashion, Textiles and AccessoriesFairSunday 14th September8am–5pmHammersmith Town Hall, 380 KensingtonHigh Street, London W14Admission: £5 (£10 before 10am)

Over a hundred leading vintage fashionclothing dealers, from all over the UK andabroad, will offer wares from 1800 to 1980.Visitors will also find an array of handbags,linen, lace, embroidery, shoes, hats, gowns,chiffons, beaded dresses, textiles, needle work,necklaces, gloves, trimmings, fashion magazines,costume jewellery, feathers boas, compacts,combs, fans, etc. Prices seem to be prettyreasonable.


Vt~x Éy à{x `ÉÇà{A SKETCH OF a Greek temple taken by someGrand Tourist with an eye for detail? Non,monsieur. This is a design for a confection thatwould have been made—from spun sugar—as atable centre piece. It was drawn by AntoninCarême in his later book Le Pâtissier Pittoresque.For more of the chef ’s bonkers bakery be sureto catch Mr Hepburn’s lecture at the ClubMeeting this Wednesday.

FOR THE LATEST information on what the Club is up to, who hasbeen arrested, etc., have a squizz at www.newsheridanclub.co.uk.

For more photos of Club events go to www.flickr.com/sheridanclub.Those of a more technological bent can also help spread the word

by befriending us electrically at www.myspace.com/newsheridanclub or indeed www.facebook.com.

[email protected]@[email protected]

[email protected]@newsheridanclub.co.uk

Birthday BoyWhy not join Mr ClaytonHartley to celebrate his birthdayon Saturday 13th September?Details are on page 25.

Photo: Ian Kelleher

newsletter - newsheridanclub.co.uk · thetashestrophyfinal last saturday saw the club’s annual...

Documents