Thursday, August 6
Tonight there's going to be a jail break?
Tomorrow I will be travelling up country for a couple of nights under canvas.
During this sojourn I expect to take in a few bands, cast admiring glances at many pieces of highly individual artwork & no doubt pick over the varied offerings from eager traders.
Along the way I should meet up with some old faces from around the country, and no doubt make gentle acquaintance of many new ones.
Sleep will be short. Mud will be thick. And I, for once, will be sharing my nights under canvas in the company of Mrs J (recently rechristened SlowRider)
To achieve this multifarious extravaganza we will each cock respective legs over our two wheeled transport & journey north along country roads & ancient ways.
But.
Somewhere north of Stow I expect to draw increasing attention from marked and unmarked police vehicles.
On arrival at our destination, as a member of the public attending an organised, secure & formally licensed entertainment I fully expect to have my lawful entrance challenged by the Police & most likely find both my person & my transport be subject to some form of search, or worse still dismantlement of my transport.
Some of said officials are likely to be visibly armed.
During this period basic camping kit such as my mini-Leatherman & titanium spork could be challenged & impounded without recourse (I am of course invited to lodge a formal complaint if such impoundment should happen to take place. Which doesn't help me cut of eat any cooked food over the weekend)
'What gives' do I hear you wonder? Perhaps, you may be asking 'How is this happening in the free and democratic English countryside, to an ordinary member of the public'?
Easy really - we're off to a motorcycle do. One that certain denizens of the Warwickshire Constabulary remain intent on despoiling, no matter what the status or background of those attending.
Of course they're will be some naughty folk around. There always are at any big event.
Whisper it gently but maybe my ears will be subjected to bad language, or even exhibitions of lewdness (hopefully female, although Mrs J seems to disagree with me on this point for some reason)
But it seems motorcycling in the UK still attracts the same badly tainted over reaction from certain sections of society, that I've been suffering from for 30+ years. Regularly declined service, or banned from pubs & other establishments. On one memorable occasion before I'd even dismounted in the pub car park on my first visit. The only light spot being the rather silly reasons given, if any politeness should happen to be shown.
No wonder I used to enjoy travelling abroad so very much where motorcyclists are treated as ..well... normal people.
Happily, being relatively unencumbered, any inconvenience shouldn't be too bad.
That is unless I get pulled for Road Traffic Act offences, summarily strip searched or the bike in some way unintentionally disabled. Luckily in such an event I can guarantee there will be a Police presence extremely near to hand. Maybe I could even get free board & lodging courtesy of said guardians.
I've varied & good experience of liaising with Police, as has Mrs J during her day to day employment. We have both found it easy to build mutual relationships of trust as you'd expect. The Police & the Society they safeguard have to have such an agreement for the relationship to prosper.
So why, at this precise moment, do I find myself already hunkering down into that prickling bunker mentality, a recall from youthful rebellious teenage times.
Today I arrived home from work dressed in collar & tie, a reputable member of society.
Tomorrow, garbed in motorcycle leathers I anticipate treatment that if it happened on the High Street would be likely to incite a riot.
I'm definitely not anti-police.
But ask me again on Sunday, and I'll see how I feel then.
Perhaps it's all a dream?
During this sojourn I expect to take in a few bands, cast admiring glances at many pieces of highly individual artwork & no doubt pick over the varied offerings from eager traders.
Along the way I should meet up with some old faces from around the country, and no doubt make gentle acquaintance of many new ones.
Sleep will be short. Mud will be thick. And I, for once, will be sharing my nights under canvas in the company of Mrs J (recently rechristened SlowRider)
To achieve this multifarious extravaganza we will each cock respective legs over our two wheeled transport & journey north along country roads & ancient ways.
But.
Somewhere north of Stow I expect to draw increasing attention from marked and unmarked police vehicles.
On arrival at our destination, as a member of the public attending an organised, secure & formally licensed entertainment I fully expect to have my lawful entrance challenged by the Police & most likely find both my person & my transport be subject to some form of search, or worse still dismantlement of my transport.
Some of said officials are likely to be visibly armed.
During this period basic camping kit such as my mini-Leatherman & titanium spork could be challenged & impounded without recourse (I am of course invited to lodge a formal complaint if such impoundment should happen to take place. Which doesn't help me cut of eat any cooked food over the weekend)
'What gives' do I hear you wonder? Perhaps, you may be asking 'How is this happening in the free and democratic English countryside, to an ordinary member of the public'?
Easy really - we're off to a motorcycle do. One that certain denizens of the Warwickshire Constabulary remain intent on despoiling, no matter what the status or background of those attending.
Of course they're will be some naughty folk around. There always are at any big event.
Whisper it gently but maybe my ears will be subjected to bad language, or even exhibitions of lewdness (hopefully female, although Mrs J seems to disagree with me on this point for some reason)
But it seems motorcycling in the UK still attracts the same badly tainted over reaction from certain sections of society, that I've been suffering from for 30+ years. Regularly declined service, or banned from pubs & other establishments. On one memorable occasion before I'd even dismounted in the pub car park on my first visit. The only light spot being the rather silly reasons given, if any politeness should happen to be shown.
No wonder I used to enjoy travelling abroad so very much where motorcyclists are treated as ..well... normal people.
Happily, being relatively unencumbered, any inconvenience shouldn't be too bad.
That is unless I get pulled for Road Traffic Act offences, summarily strip searched or the bike in some way unintentionally disabled. Luckily in such an event I can guarantee there will be a Police presence extremely near to hand. Maybe I could even get free board & lodging courtesy of said guardians.
I've varied & good experience of liaising with Police, as has Mrs J during her day to day employment. We have both found it easy to build mutual relationships of trust as you'd expect. The Police & the Society they safeguard have to have such an agreement for the relationship to prosper.
So why, at this precise moment, do I find myself already hunkering down into that prickling bunker mentality, a recall from youthful rebellious teenage times.
Today I arrived home from work dressed in collar & tie, a reputable member of society.
Tomorrow, garbed in motorcycle leathers I anticipate treatment that if it happened on the High Street would be likely to incite a riot.
I'm definitely not anti-police.
But ask me again on Sunday, and I'll see how I feel then.
Perhaps it's all a dream?
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