Bank Holiday Monday

I had a late night last night but it wouldn't be what you're thinking. There was no booze involved whatsoever, it was just that having sat in front of the telly, one thing led to another. The snooker final was strangely uncompelling but the South Bank Show retrospective on David Hockney was good and it led into Hitchcock's The Birds. Me not being a film afficianado, I don't think I'd seen it in full before and Hitchcock is one of the few non-French film genres that I do think is worth one's attention, the non-bird early stages of the film led one in and Tippi Hedren is nice to look at.
So, having got to bed by 2, I wasn't expecting to be early to rise today, my old habit of cycling is proving hard to keep up with inclement weather and prevailing bad back conditions so I decided to go in search of the English Bank Holiday, having been told that, as part of St. Mary's Church May Fayre, one could go up the church tower.
Over breakfast, my chess rating goes down by about 20 points on FICS- Free Internet Chess Server- as I lose a couple of difficult endings to players rated below me but Radio 6 is in good form with a request show playing in succession, McAlmont & Butler's Yes, a track by The Pixies and The Liquidator. Then Radio 4 has a programme about changing your name by deed poll before I quickly tire of a sitcom about a rare record shop starring Lenny Henry.
Arriving at St. Mary's, I was afraid that the jamboree looked less my sort of thing with the usual tawdry set of stalls selling burgers and beer, t-shirts, face-painting and other people's worn-out old videos. So I continued to Southsea through Fratton. Where do all these people come from, the general public, with their terrible adidas underclass idea of fashion, their tattoos and appearance of having spent their lives sucking the air out of lorries' tyres. Of course, it's not for me to disdain the honest, blameless working class but I do feel outside of their demeanour, and feel as if they might at any minute uncover my effete, surburban literariness, my sense of non-belonging to their religion of football, lager and pizza. I feel like a spy whose cover is just about to be blown.
On Castle Field, Southsea, are some heavy horses parading with their drays and troikas with sideshows of more burgers, sundry tat and bouncy castles. I don't, for once, continue to Old Portsmouth, but turn back and find a way back towards Fratton, still wondering about a view from the church tower but go into a second hand bookshop on the way. The proprietor asks what I'm interested in and I say I doubt if he has any first editions of Patrick Hamilton's two rare early novels and if he did have, he'd know how much they are worth. Among the piles of reasonably well-sorted books, I find myself one of Ian Duhig's books of poems and that will do for me.
Back through Fratton, I donate a derisory amount to go and look at St. Mary's Fayre. The programme advertises organ music at 2.30 so I sit and wait while looking for signs of trips up the church tower. Although not everyone's attention is on the music- many being more concerned with how many of their children need to go to the toilet- Brian Moles plays us Bach's Toccata and Fugue and will play more but it's hardly concert conditions and you can hear it while looking at the other indoor attractions, like a big train set being played with by members of the Victory Train Club. I wish I'd been there earlier for the community singing of Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven, Love divine, all loves excelling, Morning Has Broken and Jerusalem. I don't trouble to seek out the Morris dancing.
But I feel I've found about as much high culture as was on offer in Portsmouth on such a cut-price, rough and ready day. In its modest way, it's an uplifting experience to see everyone doing their best to enjoy themselves among boarded-up pubs, endless takeaway food outlets and well-intentioned community activity. Call me patronising, by all means. What are they supposed to do, all these people. You can hardly expect Andreas Scholl or R.E.M. to be available to entertain in downtown Fratton on May Bank Holiday.
And so I'm back here. Tim usefully tells me I need to register if I intend to book my Proms tickets at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning so I'll do that next. Trips up St. Mary's church tower will be available in August so I must remember to go back then