OOMF - Oxford's own millennium festival − 1 July, 2000
If I'd been Livejournaling in those days, this so would have been journal-worthy, Flickr-worthy, Facebook-worthy. As it is, I talked about it enough to friends and acquaintances to have worn out my welcome at the time, probably. A long time has passed since then and it's weird to think that this event - absolutely the most spectacular event I've gone to of its kind - passed virtually un-recorded in comparison to my current way of tracking everything.
It was amazing and unexpected. Who knew that Oxford would do an actual good job at marking the Millennium, especially as it had eschewed the obvious celebration time of New Year and gone for a summer event, outside, in South Park? It could easily have gone horribly wrong, and to be honest none of the people I went with, myself included, had any great hope of it being anything more than something you might as well pop along to.
There were various of us in a group - we went along to South Park while it was still sunny, and found ourselves a reasonable spot to wait for whatever was going to happen. I don't think any of us knew what the proceedings were going to consist of, particularly - and it all started fairly tamely, with processions of local schoolchildren carrying poles, banners, and geometric shapes made out of wicker and plastic film. Some of the shapes were multi-coloured, but otherwise it just seemed rather like a half-assed craft fair and procession to keep the kids happy.
Gradually the procession came to a vague halt. Close behind me I could hear my erstwhile neighbour from Jericho, Bella, failing to control her child and generally being annoying and loud. And then it became clear that the pieces of stick and plastic that had been brought in by the kids were being assembled into a greater whole. Into structures, tall structures. The coloured diamond or triangle shapes became coloured windows, the hoops and circles became parts of a representation of the Radcliffe Camera, of an Oxford spire, of a clock tower.
That was magical enough in itself - all done with minimal construction material, and assembling itself before our eyes. What followed was one of the most spectacular fireworks displays I've ever seen - truly magnificent - with the added unusual attraction of cranes holding big wicker balls with dancers dangling from them.
Topping the whole event, though, was the river story that accompanied the specially commissioned 'Symphony in Morris Minor' music. The firework excitement had died down, and we were wondering what would come next. It was quite dark by then, of course, and so there was little clues from visible preparations - but soon enough quite nearby a sort of ripping sound was heard, at the same time as various people ran back and forth across a field. They were attaching sellotape (yes, actual Sellotape - the company was a sponsor of the festival, I think) to one end of a barrier and running with it to the other end of the designated area - that's what the ripping sort of sound was. And they kept on doing it, back and forth, until there was a river of shimmering, half-seen sellotape stretching out before us,
From amongst the crowd, some figures moved into the shimmering river. An old woman and an ox, fording the makeshift water. They were giant figures, held up on sticks as they had been in the procession earlier, but unidentified by us at that time as being of any particular significance. And from there the story of Oxford was told, in sellotape and sticks and plastic film, with Oxford buildings and the struggle of the cycles versus the cars, and more, with the swelling music accompanying it perfectly.
It was a fantastic sight, and a fantastic evening, leaving us gaping, wondering if we'd really just seen all that done with such basic materials, and impressed out of all recognition that yes, Oxford had actually just put on one of the most spectacular events I'd ever heard of, let alone gone along to.
It was amazing and unexpected. Who knew that Oxford would do an actual good job at marking the Millennium, especially as it had eschewed the obvious celebration time of New Year and gone for a summer event, outside, in South Park? It could easily have gone horribly wrong, and to be honest none of the people I went with, myself included, had any great hope of it being anything more than something you might as well pop along to.
There were various of us in a group - we went along to South Park while it was still sunny, and found ourselves a reasonable spot to wait for whatever was going to happen. I don't think any of us knew what the proceedings were going to consist of, particularly - and it all started fairly tamely, with processions of local schoolchildren carrying poles, banners, and geometric shapes made out of wicker and plastic film. Some of the shapes were multi-coloured, but otherwise it just seemed rather like a half-assed craft fair and procession to keep the kids happy.
Gradually the procession came to a vague halt. Close behind me I could hear my erstwhile neighbour from Jericho, Bella, failing to control her child and generally being annoying and loud. And then it became clear that the pieces of stick and plastic that had been brought in by the kids were being assembled into a greater whole. Into structures, tall structures. The coloured diamond or triangle shapes became coloured windows, the hoops and circles became parts of a representation of the Radcliffe Camera, of an Oxford spire, of a clock tower.
That was magical enough in itself - all done with minimal construction material, and assembling itself before our eyes. What followed was one of the most spectacular fireworks displays I've ever seen - truly magnificent - with the added unusual attraction of cranes holding big wicker balls with dancers dangling from them.
Topping the whole event, though, was the river story that accompanied the specially commissioned 'Symphony in Morris Minor' music. The firework excitement had died down, and we were wondering what would come next. It was quite dark by then, of course, and so there was little clues from visible preparations - but soon enough quite nearby a sort of ripping sound was heard, at the same time as various people ran back and forth across a field. They were attaching sellotape (yes, actual Sellotape - the company was a sponsor of the festival, I think) to one end of a barrier and running with it to the other end of the designated area - that's what the ripping sort of sound was. And they kept on doing it, back and forth, until there was a river of shimmering, half-seen sellotape stretching out before us,
From amongst the crowd, some figures moved into the shimmering river. An old woman and an ox, fording the makeshift water. They were giant figures, held up on sticks as they had been in the procession earlier, but unidentified by us at that time as being of any particular significance. And from there the story of Oxford was told, in sellotape and sticks and plastic film, with Oxford buildings and the struggle of the cycles versus the cars, and more, with the swelling music accompanying it perfectly.
It was a fantastic sight, and a fantastic evening, leaving us gaping, wondering if we'd really just seen all that done with such basic materials, and impressed out of all recognition that yes, Oxford had actually just put on one of the most spectacular events I'd ever heard of, let alone gone along to.
