Jay-zus, how cold????

Why is it every time I go to Aeroventure at Doncaster that the weather completely sucks??? Once again freezing brass balls and sleeting as I arrived.

Actually, a more successful foray into where the parts of the world where real people are to be found, then Friday which was lets face it, an abject failure. Pointed Christine in the direction of Leicester, for once her engine didn't disintergrate in a shower of smoke and shite and after some procurement of petrol and a certain amount of driving, duly pulled up at my destination, Travel Inn Central. Collected my key, dumped my bag in my room - she wasn't coming with me (only joking folks, the Shadester only travels solo) and called a taxi.... "OI! You're a taxi!". Was marginally bothered when upon directing the elderly cabbie to Bay Street where the festival was being held, his response was "eh? Where?" and reached for a street guide published in about 1975. Was rather more bothered when he sat at a green light for it's entire phase without noticing that he was actually allowed to go, but providence was on my side for once this year and we got to the hall without incident or confusion. As it was Saturday, the festival was already running short of commemorative glasses, but I was able to haggle for a half pint one with this years logo on it, and set about making up for lost time attacking the bars. Identifed six or seven beers I was really keen to try; sods law was that all of these were already sold out. Still enough to keep me lively though, no complaints.




Part of the reason of going was to have a bevvie with my old drinking mucker TB... now, as has been said before, it may be weird planning to have a swift one with Tuberculosis but that's the guy's nickname and it stands for something else. As it happened, he'd arranged a meet of people from the old group for the same day, but lets make it really clear, I wasn't there to attend that meet, I was there in my own capacity so the first thing that had to be done was educating the masses as to my real name. Nice to see old faces though, no real tossers there, nobody I have major issues with and only one that I've never been keen on, even kept it friendly with him. See, not so psychotic after all. Did find myself surrounded by a bunch of language graduate people at one point who were drunkenly arguing about the punctuation errors in the event banners.... isn't it nice to have a life.... Chewed my way through a mighty assortment of bevvies, highlights were the Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby (yum!!), the festival homebrew "Clippies Stout" made at the Potbelly brewery by the festival committee, the Durham Nine Alters and my namesake from Buntingford Brewery "Stan's pale and peachy". Well, it had to be done. Being a sentimental kind of swine, I'd have liked to have tried the "Billy's last bark" from Steaming Billy, brewed in memorium to the late brewery Jack Russell; and I'd have liked a bash at the St Jude's, a new brewery from hometown, but all sold out. Never mind, another time.

Eventually we wobbled out of the festival and onto the streets of Leicester... my chest closed up with the exercise so I had to take a break for a bit, which gave the others a chance to pop into what was best described as a rank old shitehole with bouncers, a dancefloor and a danceDJ type curiously playing irish music at loud volume and claiming to be a black paddy 'coz his name was "Patrick". Yes folks, it's St Patrick's night, wall to wall novelty hats and plasticpaddy's everywhere. Remind me to come out on St George's with a twenty foot red and white flag around my body, and to start a fight with a Frenchman.

The man TB had a map, a plan and a destination in mind so we escaped the fake plastic paddyness and moved on to the Globe, which was better but crowded... by this stage we were losing folks to natural wastage. In that they were wasted on natural products. For the final move of the night, we left everyone but TB and I by the wayside and moved on to The Criterion, which looks like one of those concrete built sixties nightmare pubs from the outside but has been turned into a real haven inside. Advertising a reading by the surrealist poet Attilla the Stockbroker, I'm half tempted with that. Pity the young barman knew how good his pub was, and was appallingly smug - got up my nose, but you can't have everything. So I had the fruit beer on draft, as I was all flavoured out of British ale by this stage. Very nice it was too. Switching to the Budvar dark for the last drink of the night was a mistake, should have stuck with the light nice fruity goodness from Timmermans Kriekbier. And that, folks was the night. If I'm honest, got absolutely ratted in company, a good healthy reaction to a week that was tiring and heated in places. Got a few more beer festival dates... a good one in Chesterfield in May... and a few ideas for things to do.

Which left me waking up in the middle of the country, with far less of a hangover than I deserved, in time for a very tasty full english courtesy of the Travel Inn's linked pub and restuarant. For a chain hotel, this one's actually nicely built in an area that's not displeasing to the eye... surrounded by old restored hospital admin buildings, made in the time when government buildings were pleasant structures, not concrete prefab nightmares. None of the contact list reachable from Leicster were coming out to play, so I decided on a trip to East Midlands Airport's Aeropark and the Doncaster museum where I've not been for three years.

If you're not into hairyplanes, I guess there's not a lot to report for you. EMA's gotten a replica Spitfire, they've repainted their Hunter and they're beavering away on all kinds of things. Very sensible, keeping within their limitations, they're doing alright. Sleeting and blowing a gale, I didn't stay long. A big Antonov parked up on the airfield by the DHL facility, but no sign of it flying so no reason to stay. Doncaster seem to have a slightly more bizarre collecting policy, they've got stuff on show that makes you ask "just WHAT is the point". But they seem to do alright, stuff has progressed since I was there last. The Falklands veteran Wessex has been largely restored since I saw it last; the Scout nose section actually has a combat history that I wasn't previously aware of... it's the survivor of the two helicopters that went to tend to H Jones VC when he was shot and killed at Goose Green; they were notoriously bounced by Argentine ground attack planes and the other chopper shot down. Suprising that this aircraft survives only as a cockpit section, where the museum's intact Scout is a development airframe that did naff all. Strange... they've gotten these aircraft up in a Falklands 25 year exhibition, but the Gazelle they had ... another Falklands vet', actually shot down on the day of the British invasion is missing. Wonder where that's vanished to. They've gotten a Gannet they're working on, and the first Sea King in the hands of a private museum, they've got the Dakota in bits to be restored that sat for years at Ipswich Airport; but what interested me was the amount of identifiable Tornado parts they've gotten their hands on.... wonder what's they're up to!!