Posted by: internationalroutier | August 10, 2010

10 Years of Bastardry: Prince Rupert’s 10th Anniversary Dinner

post by Spike

Earlier this year, brave souls from the PRB attended the infamously cold Routier Winter Camp. For many of these Queenslanders, it was the coldest they had ever been. So numbed were their brains that they invited us to return the favour – by attending their 10th Anniversary. And so, to the unseemly warm (and sometimes sticky) weather that Brisbane calls “Winter”, and the confusingly named Allawah Scout Camp we went. Spike, Ross, Jackie, and (eventually) Captayne Brew. Routier numbers were bolstered by those 2 part-timers, Gross and Kelly. Peter Radvan, unable to attend, was, appropriately enough, represented by a Voodoo doll. And a fine day and night we all had.


With typical Royalist flair, their Captain, Fyd Hansen, shows utter disdain for mundane details that can become an obsession with inferior men. Fyd deliberately goes in the opposite direction. So what if the invitations didn’t say what time things started? People of quality would KNOW. This philosophy ran throughout the entire celebration. The entire event, though doubtless under the surface resembling a finely-tuned Swiss watch, was so cleverly crafted that it gave every outward illusion of being almost completely haphazard. Little was announced; things just happened. In this high-speed, defined world we live in, I found this relaxed appearance both enlightened and refreshing.

People turned up in the morning, squared their kit away, and launched into cooking and/or a fiercely contested game of Pell Mell. The latter was played using a set of Fyd’s own construction, and judging from the cunningly designed non-spheroidal wooden balls, his own design. This was followed by drinking. Many old friends were present, and a few new ones.

Lunch was had, followed by more drinking and Pell Mell. More guests arrived, and an even more fiercely contested game of Kubb (“log” – that heathen game from Scandinavia) followed. This included more drinking, of course, and from here my recollections become a bit hazier. I remember some gambling. I think. And more drinking. I think I recall a game or two of Bocce. Late in the afternoon, there was an official ceremony, in which a brief drill was followed by some shooting into the air. I was asked to act as Ensign, since the regular Ensign was absent, and Radvan, recently demoted to Assistant Junior Ensign (for Services to Neglect), was, of course, not present. This experience was quite enjoyable. I was relieved that, despite advanced years and general laziness, I was able to wield a flag and skip, and not fall and break a hip.
After more drinking, we retired inside the H R Giger Hall (see photos) for more drinks and perhaps some of that delicious-smelling food that our hosts had been working on since the morning.
And delicious-tasting it was! I am normally more gourmand than gourmet, but I must say that the food was among the best I recall ever eating a re-enactment event. If only I could remember what it was.

At some stage, Fyd rose to drunken feet and made a speech. We all cheered and toasted and made merry, and in a brief, relaxed ceremony, I was appointed as PRB’s Honorary Lieutenant for my services to the company. This was a very proud moment, and the highest rank I am ever likely to achieve, unless I move to Bolivia.
Then to more drinking, singing, and gambling. I remember little save that I won a lot of money, and talked Gross up to an $80,000 bride price for Carolyn. I have yet to broach the subject with her parents. At some stage there was an attempt to blow up Guy Fawkes in effigy; but the Royalists wisely decided that burning was more suitable fate. More gambling and drinking led to oblivion.

I woke up next morning in time to see Gross downing his 4th breakfast lager, with Ross chasing. Some things never change.Wine and Dice and Good Times! May they live forever!

On behalf of the company, I thank all my friends in PRB, and wish them another fine 10 years! Maybe Radvan will make it to the next one. Hurrah!

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