|
News
Visit to our dojo
Ireland 2002
Ireland 2001
USA 2000
|
|
|
|
USKK (Europe) 2002 Championships - Dublin, Ireland
Dublin, Ireland, on St Patrick's Day was incredible. The streets heaving with people, old and young alike. A Parade filled with bikers, bizarre and classic cars, black and white and gold people with ornate spears, scary bugs made of children's building blocks, colours and shapes and tumbling, ringing alarm clocks. Even the rain didn't lessen the appeal.
But perhaps I should start nearer the beginning...
It's 11:30am and I'm sitting with Sensei Sally Woolston's father, Victor, in the smoking area of Gatwick Airport, talking about the Jewish Bible of all things. The morning thus far has been a little hectic. From a 5.00am wake up call (but no room service) a cab was needed to ferry myself and my overly large suitcase to St. Andrews Dojo, where I met Sensei's Steve and Sally Woolston, Justin Denman, Sensei Steve's parents Ray and Lyn Woolston, and Vic and Wendy Abbot, Sensei Sally's parents. We departed to Gatwick Airport in style (well, the hire bus was warm....) and anticipation.
The Airport heralded the arrival of the other half of the Eastbourne Shorinryu Karate club trip to Ireland - Chorna, Rajoo, Mr and Mrs Harun, Linda and Elizabeth Kennard, and Eve, Laura, and Pinkie Walsh - but unfortunately not our 'plane, which had been delayed for two hours. Hence the fact I am discussing the intricacies of the Jewish Bible while waiting for a 'plane (as it turns out, painted bright yellow and emblazoned with the legend 'Rent-a-car') - this did not fill me with optimism....
Still, we made it to Ireland, the joys of travelling in our own private bus to the Hotel and being entertained by the lovely Vikki Behan, an Irish Black Belt who couldn't train due to a recent operation. More entertaining than her sarcasm though were her unique sneezes, which would have most of the class in stitches before the weekend was out.
We were staying at the Glenroyal Hotel, about 5 minutes outside of Dublin (Irish time....). Sensei's Steve and Sally, Justin, and myself were sharing a room in the hotel, and we just had time to get to our rooms and settle in before the first of the weekend's main events.
The Seminar began with a moving opening ceremony hosted by Sensei Patrick Beaumont, dedicated to those who died in the tragedy of 11th September 2001. There followed several demonstrations of (and attempts at replicating) Ju-jitsu, Aikido, and an Irish Martial Art called Kantanni-ryu. But then came the moment everybody in the room had been waiting for - the entry of Hanshi Philip Koeppel. A large and imposing man, Hanshi Koeppel is an 8th Degree Black Belt in Matsumura Seito karate, a style similar to ours.
The depth of this man's knowledge cannot be given justice here in this small space, so I will not even try. Suffice to say the things I learnt in the Kata that he instructed us in, Sochin, will have ramifications in my Karate for years to come.
Saturday morning, the morning of the second main event of the weekend, the competition, was not a good morning to wake up with a hangover. The hangover was following the heavy drinking of the night before and would haunt me throughout the day.
The competition itself went very smoothly, with all the Black Belts present in charge of specific areas. Every member of Eastbourne Karate club that had made the trip over entered the open-handed Kata (forms) competition, and Sensei Steve even entered in the Kobudo (weapons) Kata category, but sadly only Sensei Sally picked up an award and walked away with a third place medal. Laura and Elizabeth entered the Juniors Kumite (sparring) and did quite well, Laura getting through to the second round before being knocked out.
 Justin and myself entered the Seniors Kumite - Justin in the Heavyweight division and me in the Lightweight division. Justin lost the round, and a contact lens, but not before paying his opponent back with a little cut above his eye. I managed to scrape a second place medal, and before too long the competition was over and we were trundling back to the hotel.
The Banquet of Saturday night was pleasant; good food, good drink and good company. Sensei Beaumont introduced the Head Table (a group of more formidable men I have never seen) and the mantle of organising such a momentous event was officially passed to Sensei Steve Woolston, to arrange for all this to be held in Eastbourne next year. The guests passed from the Banquet hall to the bar, and knives and forks were exchanged for glasses of Guinness and other alcoholic concoctions. Alas, the previous nights drinking had taken its toll and before long I was marching up the stairs to Bedfordshire (or, as Sensei Steve put, 'retiring early').
Which turned out to be the right thing to do when, the following morning, Justin, who was venturing into Dublin with a small group to witness first hand the St Patrick's Day parade, woke me. As I mentioned earlier, the Parade itself was fantastic, and a day spent in Dublin was an experience in itself. The 'feeling' was different, and I don't think it was just because of the special day. Trying to find the train station to get back to the hotel took a while though - 'just around the corner' appears to be an Irish measurement of distance that encompasses anything between six feet and a mile - but soon we were back at the hotel and all tucking into Sunday roast. The last of the money was spent on a few more rounds of drinks, and far too soon the evening was ended and sleep beckoned (delayed periodically by a few sets of 'Bed Diving'.... well, I need to keep in practise)!
A large breakfast on Monday morning was used to steel us for the trip home. The wait for the 'plane was shorter, but the turbulence on the flight back made up for that. Unfortunately, on the trip to the airport it became clear that one of our number had gotten himself lost, and although we waited for him at the airport as long as we could, Pinkie Walsh never made his flight back. Presumably the prospect of staying and training in Ireland was too tempting - good luck to you, Pinkie!
Once in Gatwick it was just a case of saying goodbye to each other and getting in the mini-buses home. But during all the chatter of the long drive to Eastbourne the one thought on my mind was that the landing in England had been a short sharp shock - that's when I finally realised that the weekend away I had looked forward to for seven months was over. I preferred the turbulence....
|
