Cornwall Pro-Sabre
Oct. 16th, 2006 11:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rwrylsinWent to the inaugural Cornwall Pro-Sabre competition on the weekend. 'twas good.
The journey began with tube and train to the airport. The tube was of course crowded at peak hour, but I forced my way on to the second train past. The Stanstead express, which isn't nearly as express I'd like, came to a halt part way along and added about 20 mins delay.
Fortunately I had allowed plenty of time, so still had time to take the long route up the ramp (escalators closed) and check in on time. Just.
I still held hopes of getting something quick to eat before the flight, but then their was the long, slow queue at security. At least they weren't doing shoes. Popping out the end of that I jogged most of the way to the gate, they were boarding a little late so I got to queue again instead of dashing on at the last minute as I had rather expected.
Flew to Newquay, and spent 15 mins hovering above it waiting to land. Landed, and waited to collect luggage.
Finally done, I strode out with fencing bag in tow. Was quickly waylaid by the friendly greeter for the tournament, and waited to collect the other fencers arriving on the same flight.
Outside a mini-bus taxi waited, bags were stowed and we were ferried to the hotel. After collecting tournament information and checking in, I made a direct line for the buffet near the bar. It was now well after 10 and I was starving. Found people I knew to sit with as I wolfed down two plates, before staggering off to bed.
The atmosphere in the bar was very convention-like. People who knew each other from competitions if not regular training watching out for friends as they arrived and settling in for an anticipated weekend of fun.
In my room the window wouldn't close. Which would be fine except that a large number of very big flies had taken the opportunity to enter and bed down for the night on the window frames. When I put on the light, they began to stir and fly about the room.
I wasted some time swatting them with a spare hand-towel - they proved to be both robust and very good at faking death. In the end I just turned the light off in the hope that they would go back to sleep and head back out the window in the morning.
Most of them did, so I ignored them from then on. Breakfast was good. I asked reception about checking out late, sometime later they said that would be no problem. As it turned out they charged me for an extra night, I foolishly assumed they would have mentioned the charge and was a bit miffed about that even though I knew it was likely. If they had said they were going to then I intended to not bother and just rely on the showers and changerooms at the venue.
Read in my room to kill time until tournament check-in, then joined other women sabreurs in the lobby to wait for the bus. It arrived earlier than advertised and whisked us up to the venue past signs pointing to "fencing". The general mood seemed to be one of "let's get this fencing out of the way so we can go to the after-party". I suspect it was quite a party, but I'm not much of a party-person, especially when I don't have David around for support.
At the venue we were directed to the squash courts that were for equipment storage, plenty of space for kit and even to warm up as the fencing hall was still full of the guys fencing. With plenty of time to spare, I checked-in, bought a T-shirt with the last of my cash, and took a look at the venue.
The hall did not strike me, at this stage, as exceptional. There were 9 strips, 8 in use and the raised finals strip in the middle currently being used for sitting on. It was nice to have all electric strips (I'm so unused to it that at one stage I ended up on my knees as my feet stopped and the rest of me didn't - apparently I've become accustomed to a certain amount of slippage). It was also nice that the referees seemed to have plenty of room and there were no tripping hazards, but there was nowhere much for spectators if they had any and was mostly just a well-laid out fencing hall. The PA system was also good and they made very good use of it to keep us informed.
So, I fenced. Won two, narrowly lost one which I would have liked to win, lost 3 more that I would have liked to do better in but wasn't really surprised not to. I was fencing well enough and paying attention so I can't complain, but it wasn't exceptional. It was very nice to have good referees provided.
By the time I changed my T-shirt the poule results were up. Ranked 22 of 35, again nothing to complain about given the company I was in. Grabbed a bit to eat and my kit, then dashed into the hall to be slightly late and missed hearing all the announcements of where bouts were. So did my opponent apparently, so we were searching the hall trying to find our strip.
Stopping to pick up my weapons so at least I could be ready when someone called me, I was then noticed and called to my strip by the referee. Clearly standing still was the way to go.
The bout was very one-sided, like a lot of bouts in that round. Bundled out 4-15 by #11. The 4 points I got were all scored from deliberately chosen changes in pace or tactics, so I take that as a positive. Unfortunately they only worked once, and a lot of my other deliberately chosen changes didn't work. My opponent was very fast, with a very long reach, and I just got completely outclassed.
Overall, I would describe my fencing as adequate. It was good that I was thinking and analyxing things, but I also wonder if I was maybe thinking too much. I didn't have the focus I have on my best days, which is hard to describe but sort of means I reach the conclusions and act on them correctly without plodding through the details of the analysis. So there tends to be less "trying things" and more "doing the right things".
Partly I think this was because I've been spending so much time lately calculating when I need to do things to be on time for this thing and then have time for that thing. The other reason I prefer traveling with David is that I can delegate some of the scheduling to him and concentrate properly on the matter at hand.
Now it back into organisational mode. I found a place to leave my bag so I wouldn't have to bring it back later (was catching a taxi from the venue after the finals). Noted my results down, then caught the bus back to the hotel.
After showering and changing I went for a wander about Newquay, took some photos and got sand on my trousers. Met up with a familiar fencer and wandered back to the hotel with him.
He had missed his flight the day before after leaving photo-id at home (resulting in much mirth in the bar), so came over in the mis-named 'sleeper' train. Neither of us had paid much attention on how to get back to the hotel after our walks, but we found it eventually.
I checked out and read my book in the lobby for a while until the bus returned to take us to the gala finals. Most people had taken the opportunity to dress up formal, the sports centre had probably never seen such a thing before. My original plan for a little black dress had been scuppered because there was just no way to fit another pair of shoes into the fencing bag on my way to London, bu work trousers and a lacey top didn't leave me too out of place.
The venue had been transformed, and was now seriously impressive. A black curtain behind the finals piste, which was now set up with lights and scoreboards. Seating for us spectators, a screen above, and tables laden with free drinks and cornish pasties.
Since this was the closest I was going to have to dinner I munched my way through two large pasties, confirmed taxi arrangements with the helpful organisers, then settled down for the show as the lights went out.
Whoever was playing announcer was very good at it, enthusiastic without being overbearing. They showed a short clip listing the (many!) sponsors, then explaining the rules etc on the screen above the piste.
The fencers and referees were presented, then we had the fights. From the back I couldn't see the legs or scoreboards, but it was still very cool to be there. Alas I had to duck out early to get my bags in order and catch the taxi, so I missed the men's final and the presentations. I hear they were of a similarly high standard.
The organisers gave me £10 for the taxi, which was actually £12. Normally this would be fine, but I only had £1 and some shrapnel left in the wallet and he didn't take plastic. Fortunately he was happy with £11 and a bit.
Inside I checked in without fuss, and joined the short but very slow-moving security queue. Read my pamphlet telling me that I had to pay a £5 "development fee" if I wanted to leave, why doesn't anybody tell you these things in advance? At least the machines did take plastic, although by this stage I had found a cash machine and taken some money so I could buy a bottle of water on the other side. I hate these daft new security rules.
I heard my name called over the PA, but couldn't quite make out where they were asking me to go. Some wandering and a query saw me directed to Security.
They were a little upset because my bag contained fencing equipment but I hadn't declared at check in that I was carrying weapons.
"Umm, Sports Equipment". The BFA has put a lot of effort into convincing airlines that fencing kit is Sports Equipment, not Weapons, and I wasn't about to undermine that.
"Weapons." Was the firm response. "They can be used as weapons so they have to be declared."
My hair-clips can be used as a weapon, albeit less effectively, though this may be down to my ignorance of hair-clip-homicide techniques. But I remembered not
to argue with Security about the ingenious tool-using nature of physically frail humans.
I was lectured at length on the necessity of declaring the weapons at checkin. I did consider pointing out that I have traveled all over the world with this bag of kit and never once been expected to volunteer information on the contents. If they want to know they can ask.
However the £5 fee flyer had said something about them being converted from military to civilian use so I put it down to that and didn't bother arguing.
My kit was inspected as if they had never seen fencing gear before, tips carefully checked to ensure they were blunt and demonstrated to all and sundry. From the way the guy from the scanner was clutching my sabre I did wonder if the alleged panic was all an elaborate ploy, and bit down on the urge to comment that if he had wanted to hold it he just had to ask.
Anyway, eventually repacked the bag and rejoined the slow moving queue through security after warning them that there had been a competition so they should expect a whole lot more fencing bags to come through tomorrow. Hopefully they had enough sense to start asking at check-in and avoid calling everyone up to security. Or maybe everyone else knew what to expect and I missed a memo somewhere. After putting my shoes back on post-security I heard them calling
the other fencer on my flight, so I guess they were determined to be consistent.
At the other end there was a long wait for luggage. The sirens went off in a promising way but still nothing happened. At length, a couple of guys in yellow vests popped out of the baggage outlet, to the amusement of most. (Some were starting to complain bitterly about the half-hour delay. I'd been chatting to David on the phone so hadn't noticed). Some further delays, then at long last bags emerged. Happily and unusually my fencing bag was out in the first wave and I was off to navigate train and tube to get back to my London hotel.
But the night was not over yet! Discovered, as we whizzed past, that my tube station was closed for some very serious looking construction work. So I had to hop out at another less familiar one.
Thus my adventure ended with dragging a fencing bag through lesser-known London streets at midnight, pointedly ignoring the drunk welcoming me to Sunny London.
The journey began with tube and train to the airport. The tube was of course crowded at peak hour, but I forced my way on to the second train past. The Stanstead express, which isn't nearly as express I'd like, came to a halt part way along and added about 20 mins delay.
Fortunately I had allowed plenty of time, so still had time to take the long route up the ramp (escalators closed) and check in on time. Just.
I still held hopes of getting something quick to eat before the flight, but then their was the long, slow queue at security. At least they weren't doing shoes. Popping out the end of that I jogged most of the way to the gate, they were boarding a little late so I got to queue again instead of dashing on at the last minute as I had rather expected.
Flew to Newquay, and spent 15 mins hovering above it waiting to land. Landed, and waited to collect luggage.
Finally done, I strode out with fencing bag in tow. Was quickly waylaid by the friendly greeter for the tournament, and waited to collect the other fencers arriving on the same flight.
Outside a mini-bus taxi waited, bags were stowed and we were ferried to the hotel. After collecting tournament information and checking in, I made a direct line for the buffet near the bar. It was now well after 10 and I was starving. Found people I knew to sit with as I wolfed down two plates, before staggering off to bed.
The atmosphere in the bar was very convention-like. People who knew each other from competitions if not regular training watching out for friends as they arrived and settling in for an anticipated weekend of fun.
In my room the window wouldn't close. Which would be fine except that a large number of very big flies had taken the opportunity to enter and bed down for the night on the window frames. When I put on the light, they began to stir and fly about the room.
I wasted some time swatting them with a spare hand-towel - they proved to be both robust and very good at faking death. In the end I just turned the light off in the hope that they would go back to sleep and head back out the window in the morning.
Most of them did, so I ignored them from then on. Breakfast was good. I asked reception about checking out late, sometime later they said that would be no problem. As it turned out they charged me for an extra night, I foolishly assumed they would have mentioned the charge and was a bit miffed about that even though I knew it was likely. If they had said they were going to then I intended to not bother and just rely on the showers and changerooms at the venue.
Read in my room to kill time until tournament check-in, then joined other women sabreurs in the lobby to wait for the bus. It arrived earlier than advertised and whisked us up to the venue past signs pointing to "fencing". The general mood seemed to be one of "let's get this fencing out of the way so we can go to the after-party". I suspect it was quite a party, but I'm not much of a party-person, especially when I don't have David around for support.
At the venue we were directed to the squash courts that were for equipment storage, plenty of space for kit and even to warm up as the fencing hall was still full of the guys fencing. With plenty of time to spare, I checked-in, bought a T-shirt with the last of my cash, and took a look at the venue.
The hall did not strike me, at this stage, as exceptional. There were 9 strips, 8 in use and the raised finals strip in the middle currently being used for sitting on. It was nice to have all electric strips (I'm so unused to it that at one stage I ended up on my knees as my feet stopped and the rest of me didn't - apparently I've become accustomed to a certain amount of slippage). It was also nice that the referees seemed to have plenty of room and there were no tripping hazards, but there was nowhere much for spectators if they had any and was mostly just a well-laid out fencing hall. The PA system was also good and they made very good use of it to keep us informed.
So, I fenced. Won two, narrowly lost one which I would have liked to win, lost 3 more that I would have liked to do better in but wasn't really surprised not to. I was fencing well enough and paying attention so I can't complain, but it wasn't exceptional. It was very nice to have good referees provided.
By the time I changed my T-shirt the poule results were up. Ranked 22 of 35, again nothing to complain about given the company I was in. Grabbed a bit to eat and my kit, then dashed into the hall to be slightly late and missed hearing all the announcements of where bouts were. So did my opponent apparently, so we were searching the hall trying to find our strip.
Stopping to pick up my weapons so at least I could be ready when someone called me, I was then noticed and called to my strip by the referee. Clearly standing still was the way to go.
The bout was very one-sided, like a lot of bouts in that round. Bundled out 4-15 by #11. The 4 points I got were all scored from deliberately chosen changes in pace or tactics, so I take that as a positive. Unfortunately they only worked once, and a lot of my other deliberately chosen changes didn't work. My opponent was very fast, with a very long reach, and I just got completely outclassed.
Overall, I would describe my fencing as adequate. It was good that I was thinking and analyxing things, but I also wonder if I was maybe thinking too much. I didn't have the focus I have on my best days, which is hard to describe but sort of means I reach the conclusions and act on them correctly without plodding through the details of the analysis. So there tends to be less "trying things" and more "doing the right things".
Partly I think this was because I've been spending so much time lately calculating when I need to do things to be on time for this thing and then have time for that thing. The other reason I prefer traveling with David is that I can delegate some of the scheduling to him and concentrate properly on the matter at hand.
Now it back into organisational mode. I found a place to leave my bag so I wouldn't have to bring it back later (was catching a taxi from the venue after the finals). Noted my results down, then caught the bus back to the hotel.
After showering and changing I went for a wander about Newquay, took some photos and got sand on my trousers. Met up with a familiar fencer and wandered back to the hotel with him.
He had missed his flight the day before after leaving photo-id at home (resulting in much mirth in the bar), so came over in the mis-named 'sleeper' train. Neither of us had paid much attention on how to get back to the hotel after our walks, but we found it eventually.
I checked out and read my book in the lobby for a while until the bus returned to take us to the gala finals. Most people had taken the opportunity to dress up formal, the sports centre had probably never seen such a thing before. My original plan for a little black dress had been scuppered because there was just no way to fit another pair of shoes into the fencing bag on my way to London, bu work trousers and a lacey top didn't leave me too out of place.
The venue had been transformed, and was now seriously impressive. A black curtain behind the finals piste, which was now set up with lights and scoreboards. Seating for us spectators, a screen above, and tables laden with free drinks and cornish pasties.
Since this was the closest I was going to have to dinner I munched my way through two large pasties, confirmed taxi arrangements with the helpful organisers, then settled down for the show as the lights went out.
Whoever was playing announcer was very good at it, enthusiastic without being overbearing. They showed a short clip listing the (many!) sponsors, then explaining the rules etc on the screen above the piste.
The fencers and referees were presented, then we had the fights. From the back I couldn't see the legs or scoreboards, but it was still very cool to be there. Alas I had to duck out early to get my bags in order and catch the taxi, so I missed the men's final and the presentations. I hear they were of a similarly high standard.
The organisers gave me £10 for the taxi, which was actually £12. Normally this would be fine, but I only had £1 and some shrapnel left in the wallet and he didn't take plastic. Fortunately he was happy with £11 and a bit.
Inside I checked in without fuss, and joined the short but very slow-moving security queue. Read my pamphlet telling me that I had to pay a £5 "development fee" if I wanted to leave, why doesn't anybody tell you these things in advance? At least the machines did take plastic, although by this stage I had found a cash machine and taken some money so I could buy a bottle of water on the other side. I hate these daft new security rules.
I heard my name called over the PA, but couldn't quite make out where they were asking me to go. Some wandering and a query saw me directed to Security.
They were a little upset because my bag contained fencing equipment but I hadn't declared at check in that I was carrying weapons.
"Umm, Sports Equipment". The BFA has put a lot of effort into convincing airlines that fencing kit is Sports Equipment, not Weapons, and I wasn't about to undermine that.
"Weapons." Was the firm response. "They can be used as weapons so they have to be declared."
My hair-clips can be used as a weapon, albeit less effectively, though this may be down to my ignorance of hair-clip-homicide techniques. But I remembered not
to argue with Security about the ingenious tool-using nature of physically frail humans.
I was lectured at length on the necessity of declaring the weapons at checkin. I did consider pointing out that I have traveled all over the world with this bag of kit and never once been expected to volunteer information on the contents. If they want to know they can ask.
However the £5 fee flyer had said something about them being converted from military to civilian use so I put it down to that and didn't bother arguing.
My kit was inspected as if they had never seen fencing gear before, tips carefully checked to ensure they were blunt and demonstrated to all and sundry. From the way the guy from the scanner was clutching my sabre I did wonder if the alleged panic was all an elaborate ploy, and bit down on the urge to comment that if he had wanted to hold it he just had to ask.
Anyway, eventually repacked the bag and rejoined the slow moving queue through security after warning them that there had been a competition so they should expect a whole lot more fencing bags to come through tomorrow. Hopefully they had enough sense to start asking at check-in and avoid calling everyone up to security. Or maybe everyone else knew what to expect and I missed a memo somewhere. After putting my shoes back on post-security I heard them calling
the other fencer on my flight, so I guess they were determined to be consistent.
At the other end there was a long wait for luggage. The sirens went off in a promising way but still nothing happened. At length, a couple of guys in yellow vests popped out of the baggage outlet, to the amusement of most. (Some were starting to complain bitterly about the half-hour delay. I'd been chatting to David on the phone so hadn't noticed). Some further delays, then at long last bags emerged. Happily and unusually my fencing bag was out in the first wave and I was off to navigate train and tube to get back to my London hotel.
But the night was not over yet! Discovered, as we whizzed past, that my tube station was closed for some very serious looking construction work. So I had to hop out at another less familiar one.
Thus my adventure ended with dragging a fencing bag through lesser-known London streets at midnight, pointedly ignoring the drunk welcoming me to Sunny London.
