Movies, mortar and masks: The first year Part 1
We took a running jump at our first months at No.36: before our first boxes were unpacked we had half a season of films to attend to at The Roxy, the community cinema housed in the old coaching inn at the side of the main house. We’d spent a weekend at the house with our predecessors over the summer, learning the ropes of how to set up and run each film night (mainly once a week on Fridays), but my nerves were jangling as we welcomed the patrons in on the first night. I hoped they wouldn’t think that the new city hipsters that had moved in were about to ruin their lovely cinema by being completely clueless. Everyone was superbly kind of course, and we had a full house for Red Joan. Phew.
On top of that, our first proper night we spent here also happened to be the night of the Axbridge Progressive Supper. It’s a jolly safari around participants’ houses, magically turned into salubrious eating establishments and catering to a maximum of eight diners for one course, the gaggle of merrymakers then moving on to their next meal at the next house. We opted to make the dessert course, for which we were given a warning. “Careful, no one wants to do the pud, people just don’t leave.” We decided that we were in for a penny and had a brilliant night, ending up at a house party until 4am (when does that ever happen to us anymore? Not when we were back in London I tell you), having met a large amount of people, including our local Lib Dem candidate, our gin making neighbours, and many of the folks who volunteer at/for the Roxy.
It turns out that party nights like the the Progressive are not an isolated incident in Axbridge, and we quickly discovered a rich seam of revelry ran that through the town’s DNA. These include the monthly bistros held in Ripleys, an antiques shop by day run by foodies and now firm friends, Jules and Lou (complete carnage, alcoholically speaking), all nighters for the New Year’s Eve celebrations (same), festivals, carnivals and even a pageant once every ten years (I think the locals must have decided for everyone’s safety it could only be once a decade). Over our first few months here we we experienced more partying than we had in the last ten years in London.
Which is why, when the SARS-CoV-2 virus leapt from bats into the human population and arrived on our shores, the resulting lockdown felt especially incongruous for this Saturnalian place. We cancelled the rest of the season of films and bedded down to see out the storm. We are still waiting.
Continued in Movies, Mortar and Masks: The First Year Part 2…