Seafood and wine at Hastings - where else?

The correspondence columns of the Hastings Observer are well worth a read for measuring outrage against any proposal by the Council.  Hastings residents are not fond of change.  In recent weeks there has been protest against the imposition of an entry charge for the annual Seafood and Wine Festival, which took place over this weekend.  The Council, strapped for cash like all local authorities, had said that the Festival cost them £50,000 to support.  I'm not quite sure how this figure is made up, and whether it is gross or net of, for example, charges to stallholders for the privilege of mounting their stands on a drafty site which, last year, was awash with rain.  However, dire foreboding about the effect was expressed by local Cassandras.  "Look what happened to Eastbourne Air Show", they said darkly.

We were for once well-prepared.  Smugly armed with wristbands bought in advance at a discount, we were able to wander round an excellent selection of stalls.  I was a little puzzled by the bold advertisement for cheeseburgers from the 1066 Bakery (I thought burgers were made from horse these days, not seafood), but I suppose not everyone wanted fish.  Paul Webbe, owner of the eponymous restaurant just opposite the Stade, was in charge of a small army of staff serving queues of peoples with nicely-cooked delicacies - small fishcakes, sardine fillets and little dishes of whiting.  Pissarro's, opposite, had adopted a more European flavour, including squid stuffed with chorizo.  Mouthwatering.  

Alas, since our Chinese doctor has taken me off alcohol, I didn't sample the local wines from Carr Taylor et al.  But I did notice an attractive stall selling jams and chutneys.  

Along Rock-a-Nore there were further stalls that seemed to have only a marginal connection with seafood.  One man was optimistically peddling sunglasses, while another had a display of lurid coloured soaps.  The fishmongers in Rock-a-Nore were entering into the spirit, with an outside stall selling shrimps and crabs.

Paul, flanked by Polo and Martina Piatti

But the real event of the weekend was the transformation of Winkle Island into Fantasy Island, a fundraising event run by the Winkle Club. Fake palm trees had been erected round the paved island, deckchairs set up round the edge, and a sequence of musical acts entertained passers-by.  Refreshment was also on offer from the indefatigable Polo and Martina Piatti, aided on this occasion by Paul as a genuine Winkler.  A somewhat menacing papier-mâché mermaid cast a disapproving eye on anyone who failed to contribute.  

The numbers at the Festival were such that I wasn't sure the doom-predicters were right.  But certainly some were deterred, and took refuge in the Winklers' deck-chairs, sampling the tea and coffee on  offer and tipping some coins into the collecting box.  It's quite satisfying to think that the Council's loss may be the Winkle Club's gain.

Antony Mair