BURY st EDMUNDS, SUFFOLK 1977
Bury St Edmunds was the very first Pikehand weekend beginning on Friday evening.
All the original PIKEHANDS attended. They were:- Alan Bob Bryan Dave Graham Nick.C and Ray. Our venue was Alan and Lyn's flat in Bury. Lyn kindly evacuated and left the flat exclusively for us. Sleeping arrrangements were scarce and cramped. Sleeping bags on the floor or in some nook or cranny were the norm in early Piking years. Alan and Nick were organisers. Each Pike had been assigned to prepare and present a short talk to the rest of us when required by the organisers. Aware that some Pikes would come unprepared Alan and Nick had a kit inspection on the first evening. Priority gear was a tankard and tea towel. This was great fun with lots of discent. A points losing exercise which saw our organisers applying rigorous rules. Bryan didn't have a tankard and lost points, a tradition he has carried through until recently. The mere fact that rules were conjured up and inflicted was irrelevant. From this small beginning arose the powerful quote, "The organisers are always right!!" that all Pikes respect??? Bryan, lest memory recall should fail, took notes throughout the weekend for which we were all gratefull. He assured us that Eve (his mother) would type them when he returned home.
An activities programme had been sent to Pikes along with the invitation to attend our first Pikehand Weekend. It consisted of cooking, washing up, provision of liquid refreshments and solids sustenance duties of each of us. Nick was to deliver the welcome on Friday followed by Alan regarding matters of local interest. The usual exaggerations and grandeur abounded with reiteration of the stuff that accompanied the invitation. Pre-tasks had been set. They were Graham:- Piking in Poland, Bob:- Working in sewage, Ray:- Pikehands I have Known, Dave:- Pyro-Piking, Bryan:- The Pea and it's role in modern society. A treasure hunt had been arranged for us.
After breakfast our activities were to prepare for our evening presentations. So we started in the claimed, smallest pub in the world, whilst Nick and Alan did some food shopping for later at the digs. There was a mummified cat hanging from the pub ceiling among other stuff. The floor was taken up with feet. Ours. In the afternoon we journeyed to Layer Road in Colchester. There was a football match between local teams Southend and Colchester. We'd had a pint or two and were enjoying the match from the standing terraces. It was pretty crowded. The first half was even with play swinging from one end to the other. Various sections of the spectators roared as players move from one side of the park to the other. The terraces were also quite boisterous. One guy close to us had a case of beer from which he frequently opened a can and quaffed. By half time, case empty, he could hardly stand. On the whistle the scores were equal. As we prepared to make our way toward alcoholic beverages the drunk asked a spectator, "Is it half time?" "Yes," replied the spectator having the same priority as us. "What's the score?" said the drunk and got the reply, "Nil nil!" In deep thought the drunk questioned, "Who to?" We fell about laughing. Those word have become Pike legend ever since.
Some Pikes had advised that they would be late arriving. In the evening we were sampling some local brews whilst awaiting Graham's arrival before going to our dinner. Graham walk into the bar. During his raptuous reception his double take at a well endowed young customer had to be seen to be believed. We were soon joined by a ragged guy who entertained us with his stories. As we were leaving for our first Pikehand Dinner and whilst we were searching our pockets for his tip, he requested one which was a little premature, hence he was denied. Charlie's Restaurant was where we celebrated our first banquet. The waiter wore a string vest! Back at the digs we found a block of cheese, notoriously remembered. It was very large, extremely hard, had a wonderful smell, almost burst the tast buds with flavour and took the skin off the roof of our mouths. We called it, "Cullen---ary Delight."
Later at the digs Pikes began to fulfil their presentation commitments. As usual very funny. Graham's speech consisted of, "Any questions?" Bob gave a smelly talk and at the opportune moment, Ray produced a toilet roll, on which his speech was written, Dave, "light 'em and put 'em out," talked on Pyro-Piking, and Bryan on The Pea and it's role in modern society. Eventually we retired to the land of dreams. In the morning, due to over enthusiastic brew sampling the night before, one Pike had puked in the fire place. With space at a premium, it was to his good fortune that he had not put his shoes there. Someone else had though, soles down.
There was a lot of walking around the town to view the various challenges that had been set. The Bury gardens, as usual, were magnificent but missed the attention of young first Pikehanders with minds set upon other objectives. We were sheparded by the organisers who kept a watchful eye on the time. The gardens have a small aviary exibiting a range of exotic birds. During conversations there Ray asked Graham who he thought would own the Peacock egg laid in a neighbour's garden. It took a little while for the penny to drop with an ahaa! response.
Cheese recovery was beer assisted. Then to our very first Pikehand Conference. As expected there was lots of humour but surprisingly a lot of debate from which arose Bryan's first draft of our Pike Policy ha! ha! Headings for some of our discussions were, should THE PIKEHANDS continue? should it be a masononic group? should non-family people become Pikehands? should it be men only? should it's size be restricted? how would it be funded? how could we control it but still remain family friendly? Not withstanding all before, should, "Arthur Robbins," become a Pike?
Having resolved these burning questions we went to our respective beds. After breakfast the following morning we made our farewells and departed. Each Pikehand felt confident that we had got Piking right and it would become a thing of worth. We would have recorded memories and a written policy. Bryan had got it all down. We'd all seen his copious note taking! At home he (gave??) Eve his notes. Some of the words were unknown to her. She asked what they meant and how they were spelled. At the time Bryan's literary prowess was, unknown to Eve, pretty poor. So to avoid embarrassment he told her he would tell her when he returned. He supplied the spellings and meanings on his return. Eve was very shocked but was still prepared to type them. It turned out her typing machine had broken. Or she had lost the notes. Or Bryan had lost the notes. Or his pencil wore out early and the pages were blank. Or his memory recall had failed. Or, as is now the norm, he had strung all of us along. With such solid foundations laid, the legend of the "Bury Minutes" was born.
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