Austentatious

Alerted by the sound of pipes and drums, I just looked out of the window to see the annual Jane Austen procession coming over the bridge. It passed right under our window and it seemed to go on forever. There were, quite literally, about 1000 people all dressed in 1800s costume, strolling behind a small platoon of early 1800s soldiers and bringing the town to a standstill.

As well as the Austen look-alikes, there were hundreds of the husbands she never had, with gold buckles on their shoes and silver tops on their canes. There were sailors and cavalry officers, curates and children, dogs with 1820s collars and leads - they just kept coming.

Long after the marching band was out of earshot, the stragglers promenaded toward Milsom Street and the traffic began moving again. I wondered where they were going because, enormous though it is, the Assembly Rooms is just not big enough to accommodate them all.

About ten minutes later I heard the marching band again (playing The British Grenadiers) and they all reappeared, this time walking in the opposite direction to snake past the Guildhall. God knows where or how they turned around.

I have never read a Jane Austen novel, but I don't recall any peasant characters with speaking parts featuring in the snippets of any screen adaptations I have accidentally seen. Same with the promenade. Not a single beggar dressed in rags amongst them to lower the tone, and all the farmers are gentlemen.

When people discover that they are the reincarnation of a long dead person, it is strange that their old lives were usually privileged ones - even ones which were so distinguished that they found a place in the history books.

I wonder who I will be when I die.