Where I went to school…
I think it was a weekday, as I seem to recall being at (primary) school. I can't remember if we were sent home (the town served a large rural area, and got cut off quite regularly - so getting sent home was not uncommon) but it certainly wasn't just a freakish light flurry:
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Being so high up, Buxton can have quite savage weather - but that day was a bit of an exception, even for us.
For context: Using Google Earth as a reference - Pitlochry Town Hall is around 118 metres above sea level, and the main road around about the middle of Aviemore town centre (there isn’t a town hall as such) is around 216 metres. Buxton Town Hall is 312 metres above sea level - only a hillock below the combined total of those two Highland towns (and Buxton town hall is some 35-40 metres lower than the highest parts of town). The cricket pitch is itself is only a smidge lower – at 311 metres.
I work in Scotland around half the year – and given the general assumption that south of Berwick-upon-Tweed there are no such things as either geography or weather no Scot
ever believes the above without having to check it out. (The difference, of course, being that we don’t have proper mountains all around us.) Actually, that's not entirely fair. The experience of grinding up through the hills on runs to the Peak District quarries was the reason why a Scottish ex of mines lorry driving brother and dad referred to me as the highlander.
Highlanders, quite sensibly, tend to live in the glens and valleys, and along the coast – whereas the founders of Aquae Arnemetiae opted to camp out in a bit of a dip in a rain and wind blasted moorland eyrie. (Flash – the highest village in the UK, is a couple of miles south of Buxton; Wanlockhead, it’s close Scottish rival, is not even close to the Highlands.)
It's a not so well known fact that, for a couple of years, the moors just south of town hosted possibly the most unlikely - or at least most misjudged - outdoor rock festival ever organised in the UK (I always thought the episode would make a great basis for a British comedy movie: possibly,
Saxondale – The Early Years).
400 metres above sea level, in sight of Axe Edge – which is the source of five rivers – the name Axe possibly derived from
aquas; just a little bit of a clue as to the type of conditions up there. Aside from the lack of penguins, pictures of the festival look like they might easily have been taken in the middle of the Falkland Islands – possibly during the actual conflict. Seriously, they really do:
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My old English teacher – a Quaker – used to delight in telling us about rescuing a load of Hell’s Angels in his Volkswagen camper, and bringing them back to a local Methodist church that had been set up like a refugee centre – where they, along with various other shivering, patchouli bedrizzled and Afghan coated waifs and strays were ministered with hot tea and bacon sandwiches by mildly disapproving local biddies.
I think the festival took place in two different months – one year in September, the others in July. Allowing for confused memories, reading some of the background indicates that the particularly savage year could have been the July one; given the mercurial nature of the weather up here, it really wouldn’t surprise me. It’s worth reading some of the comments on the site dedicated to the events – it really did seem to be a rather character building experience for many.
Couple of related links, with reminiscences
here and
here.
Glastonbury is clearly for blouses.