15 July
2000
BATH TUB RACE
The River Adur
hosts one of the most important events in Shoreham- by-Sea and Sussex when
about a hundred cast iron bath tubs race from Bramber to New Shoreham in
the annual race. Often mentioned in the press as a wacky race, it is far
superior to raft-races because the craft based on cast iron baths (it takes
more men to lift them and a crane is provided at Adur Recreation Ground,
where the race finishes, to lift them out of the river) have to be constructed
to precise rules (craft that exceed the dimensions are disqualified). There
are no rules on the method of human-powered propulsion and pedal machines
can sometimes nearly compete with rowers.
Although the
race is slightly less popular than its heyday in the early 1980s, the banks
of the river will be lined on both sides several deep with spectators for
the 4 miles in a football match sized crowd. One of the best vantage points
is the Toll Bridge, but WSCC have still not repaired the bridge, which
is obstructed by the temporary barriers.
1999
Race Details
31
July 1999
The
Hills team crewed by the Martin (Tony & Jon) Brothers won in a time
of 1 hour 10 mins, about a minute ahead of the RNLI tub crewed by Jim Partridge
and Peter Huxtable, who had won for the previous 9 years.
The
race took place in a 29° C heatwave, with a southerly breeze, and was
started by Sally Gunnell.
Please
send any comments to: Andy Horton
Glaucus@hotmail.com
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Excerpted
from The Oxford Interactive Encyclopedia
Developed
by The Learning Company, Inc. Copyright (c) 1997 TLC Properties Inc.
Computer
Tips
Although it has rather limited
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(It is meant to download whole web sites) and other programs of dubious
usefulness available for downloading on a trial basis.
http://www.bluesquirrel.com/free_download.html
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Star:
Latest Virus Information
Poem
of the Week
Sussex
1902
God gave
all men all earth to love,
But, since our hearts are small
Ordained
for each one spot should prove
Beloved over all;
That, as
He watched Creation's birth,
So we, in godlike mood,
May of
our love create our earth
And see that it is good.
So one shall
Baltic pines content,
As
one some Surrey glade,
Or one
the palm-grove's droned lament
Before Levuka's Trade.
Each to
his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair
ground-in a fair ground --
Yea, Sussex by the sea!
No tender-hearted
garden crowns,
No bosonied woods adorn
Our blunt,
bow-headed, whale-backed Downs,
But gnarled and writhen thorn --
Bare slopes
where chasing shadows skim,
And, through the gaps revealed,
Belt upon
belt, the wooded, dim,
Blue goodness of the Weald.
Clean of
officious fence or hedge,
Half-wild and wholly tame,
The wise
turf cloaks the white cliff-edge
As when the Romans came.
What sign
of those that fought and died
At shift of sword and sword?
The barrow
and the camp abide,
The sunlight and the sward.
Here leaps
ashore the full Sou'west
All heavy-winged with brine,
Here lies
above the folded crest
The Channel's leaden line,
And here
the sea-fogs lap and cling,
And here, each warning each,
The sheep-bells
and the ship-bells ring
Along the hidden beach.
We have
no waters to delight
Our broad and brookless vales --
Only the
dewpond on the height
Unfed, that never fails --
Whereby
no tattered herbage tells
Which way the season flies --
Only our
close-bit thyme that smells
Like dawn in Paradise.
Here through
the strong and shadeless days
The tinkling silence thrills;
Or little,
lost, Down churches praise
The Lord who made the hills:
But here
the Old Gods guard their round,
And, in her secret heart,
The heathen
kingdom Wilfrid found
Dreams, as she dwells, apart.
Though all
the rest were all my share,
With equal soul I'd see
Her nine-and-thirty
sisters fair,
Yet none more fair than she.
Choose
ye your need from Thames to Tweed,
And I will choose instead
Such lands
as lie 'twixt Rake and Rye,
Black Down and Beachy Head.
I will go
out against the sun
Where the rolled scarp retires,
And the
Long Man of Wilmington
Looks naked toward the shires;
And east
till doubling Rother crawls
To find the fickle tide,
By dry
and sea-forgotten walls,
Our ports of stranded pride.
I will go
north about the shaws
And the deep ghylls that breed
Huge oaks
and old, the which we hold
No more than Sussex weed;
Or south
where windy Piddinghoe's
Begilded dolphin veers,
And red
beside wide-banked Ouse
Lie down our Sussex steers.
So to the
land our hearts we give
Til the sure magic strike,
And Memory,
Use, and Love make live
Us and our fields alike --
That deeper
than our speech and thought,
Beyond our reason's sway,
Clay of
the pit whence we were wrought
Yearns to its fellow-clay.
God gives
all men all earth to love,
But, since man's heart is smal,
Ordains
for each one spot shal prove
Beloved over all.
Each to
his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair
ground-in a fair ground --
Yea, Sussex by the sea!
Rudyard
Kipling
Poem
supplied by Ray Hamblett
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Sussex
Web Sites