Bank holidays. How do you spend yours?

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Just out of interest.

I am ignorant as to the facts.

Do all countries worldwide have annual holidays?

This weekend is the UKs' spring bank holiday. A time for bedding plants, tidying the detritus of the winter & generally enjoying a long weekend away from the daily grind.

Join in the daft mass exodus to the continant or opt for the garden?

What do you do when the calendar dictates a holiday?

Intrigued,

 

Hi Twirly,

Good question - for me it's time to waste:

Train Lily the lurcher a bit more - she needs it!
(good with rats, mice and Postmen - useless with rabbits......).

Poss wash a car.

Clean out the fishpond and filters.

Have a glass of red (or two):drinks.

Watch some rubbish telly.

Visit some other UK forumsigs:

Tie some (fishing) flies - (it's that time of year again!).

Talk to family (who live many miles away) and, if I'm lucky, the grandkids may talk back.

:dizzy:

I do like a day off!

Cheers,

 

I thought this weekend was May Day Bank Holiday - a Labour Day celebration. Doesn't Spring Bank Holiday come at the end of the month?

In my neck of the woods Bank Holidays are traditionally spent watching the rain bounce down and as I look out of the window, between the scaffolding poles that mark the start of home improvements (currently we are without pointing), it is lashing down.

Ho hum!

GB

 

Oops!

I stand/sit/recline corrected.



I'm off into the greenhouse now to beat myself to death with a tomato plant.

 

- now we're hearing the real truth about what you do on bank hols

 

As the spring bank holiday approaches I will start very early with the FA cup final this w/end, during the week there will be the Eurovision semi finals to watch, the Eurovision party (only family, I might start to dance......) and hope the weather is good enough to do some more planting.
Hope you all enjoy your loooooooooong w/end - the last before August.
Wendy:wacko:

 

Getting high!!

 

Mark!

OMG!!!

Adrenaline does the right thing for me: FEAR...... RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN....

Heights scare me witless.
Flying = hate it. Taking off, landing & the bit in the middle.igs:
Sailing = we might sink!:sinking:
Car travel = All vehicles are a potential accident.
Walking = Very scarey, may get mugged. :boxing:
Pot holing = tried it, didn't like it. :dizzy:

Therefore the safest place by far for me is within the safe confines of the greenhouse.

Wearing welly boots, gloves & a floppy hat for protection of course. Worms are extremely dangerous don'tcha know. :empathy:

 

As a member of the Sealed Knot, I normally spend mine fighting for the noble cause of Parliament

 

Hi Footman,

Is the following the 'Sealed Knotty people?

Ever fought at Conisbrough Castle?

Grand place for men in tights.

ttfn. :drinks

 

That's the one!

I haven't been a member for long, so haven't been to Conisborough though I am sure the Society may have been there in the past.

Good article from The Times Online about a major event the SK held at Kelmarsh Hall earlier this month - we had over 2000 members reenacting the Battle of Naseby, a spectacular sight for both members of the public and muggins here who kept getting killed in hand-to-hand fighting with the Royalist musket block...

Great way to spend the weekend - fighting, beer, singing and i even get to use explosives!

From The TimesMay 20, 2008

Muskets crack, pikes clash and I'm in Heaven

Bearded royalist musketeers berated the Gove family for their rebel sympathies while lobster-helmeted New Model Army troopers saluted us Michael Gove MP

If one theme has cropped up again and again in these columns, it has probably been my general hopelessness as a dad. From my inability to maintain order at bathtime to my spinelessness when confronted with my children's territorial demands, to my lack of style compared with the cool dads in the playground, I am a disappointment to my wife and an object of ridicule for my offspring.

But there hasn't been just one recurring theme in these columns. There have been at least three others.

My weird approach to holidays (strongly anti-sun, sea and sand, vehemently pro-Germany, opera and hanging around sepulchrally dark buildings with Gothic tracery).

My reactionary views on British history (a source of pride much to be celebrated, not least feats of arms culminating in the establishment of Britain as a beacon of liberty).

My general nerdiness (fan of Heroes, openly confessed to enjoying both 300 and Iron Man in the cinema, former wargamer who even played fantasy role-playing games as a teenager).

Now we all have different strains to our characters which, combined, go to make us who we are. Mrs G, for example, is an expert in make-up, a scholar of Italian Renaissance literature and a Star Trek fan. My friend Sebastian is a retail genius, among the best cooks I know and a speed-crazed petrolhead. Because we are all complex mixes, rarely do events conspire to press all our buttons. It's unlikely that L'Oréal is going to organise a Trekkie convention in Florence with a prize of a year's supply of mascara for the best Petrarch ode to Captain Spock. And in the absence of such a treat, the nearest my wife will ever come to a perfect day is me doing the kids' bath.

Similarly, Sebastian is unlikely to be asked to vie for the chairmanship of Wal-Mart in a celebrity cook-off with Gordon Ramsay and Marco Pierre White, with the tie-breaker being a Ferrari versus McLaren Formula One death match. And in the absence of anyone designing such a contest for him to win in front of admiring millions, he'll have to put up with watching The Apprentice along with the rest of us.

I, however, have been vouchsafed a glimpse of the paradise denied to both my wife and my friend. It was a day that satisfied my love of history, spoke to my inner nerd and easily outpaced in weirdness any holiday on which I have ever been.

And, because I inflicted the experience on my family, this choice of leisure activity will confirm me, once and for all, beyond any reasonable doubt, as one of the saddest dads in the history of daddery.

The day in question was spent watching hundreds of grown men and women in sackcloth and leather shoving at each other while a running commentary was provided on the divine right of kings. At first sight the spectacle would have seemed like a mixture of a poll tax riot and an American football game with the action narrated by David Starkey. It was spellbinding. It was surreal. It was The Sealed Knot's re-enactment of the Battle of Naseby.

The Sealed Knot are, as you probably know, a group who re-enact battles from the English Civil War. I'm sure that, for many of you, having an English Civil War battle re-enacted for your pleasure ranks with being invited to a private screening of the new DVD of Geoff Hoon's Great Parliamentary Moments, or being offered tickets to a Numismatists of the UK gala dinner (guest speaker Michael Winner) as a treat that you could just about bring yourself to miss, on this occasion. But I would urge all sceptics who regard mass dressing-up in wildly out-of-date costumes as the sort of thing best left to Eisteddfods or the cast of Sex and the City, to suspend their cynicism.

For me, seeing hundreds of enthusiasts throw themselves into reliving a momentous day in 17th-century history was thrilling. As my children waved their (Parliamentarian) flags, the thunder of hooves from the king's cavalry, the crack and smoke of musket fire, the push of pike and the invocations from Nonconformist preachers stirring the Cromwellian forces to fight combined in a bewitching spectacle.

The volunteers inhabited their roles for as long as the battle raged, in true Stanislavsky method-acting style, with bearded royalist musketeers berating the Gove family for their rebel sympathies while lobster-helmeted New Model Army troopers saluted us. It was as though the children were transported in time. And then, when we broke for lunch, these same enthusiasts were transformed from performers to avuncular teachers, holding the children spellbound with explanations of how apothecaries worked and exhibitions of how swordplay has evolved.

The day we spent was as thoughtfully designed as any commercial endeavour and as rich in alternative attractions as a Glastonbury or Reading festival, with beer tents, organic food, archery kits for children and second-hand books for older browsers. Yet everything was the result of volunteer endeavour. Like the St John Ambulance or the WI, the RNLI or the Scouts, the Sealed Knot shows that civil society can generate wonders of which no politician or private company could conceive.

A very English combination of eccentricity, enthusiasm, passion for our past and am-dram spirit has resulted in history coming alive for thousands every year in a way that makes education entertainment. And what makes the whole cohere is an absence of self-consciousness. There is no heavy, knowing archness, no ironic sending-up of conventions, about The Sealed Knot. Even though the volunteers are recreating the past, they are totally engaged in the moment - fully present. And if there is a fifth theme to which I have returned on this page, it is that such a state is not to be mocked, but envied. So, my Lord Bishop, and impious heretic Prince, bring it on!

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/michael_gove/article3962889.ece

 

I bet you all thought it had been peaceful eh?

Just back today from a break in Whitby.

http://www.whitby.co.uk/views/index.htm

3 days there, chips, beer, seagulls & caught the end of folk week. A truly lovely time.

Then we were off to Pickering for 2 days. We stayed at the following farm for B&B. Absolute bliss.

http://www.rains-farm-holidays.co.uk/

Ever visited the North Yorkshire moors? The heather at this time of year is a carpet of the most glorious purple. Truly my favourite place on the planet so far.

Almost the end of summer hols for UK kiddies.

Many regards,

Mandy :drinks