Time Out Feature: Sword-fighting in London

Inspired by Game of Thrones, ​I tried out sword-fighting for Time Out's weekly 'Whatever Next?' column. Read about my exploits over on the Time Out blog or below.

This article originally appeared in Time Out London, Issue May 14-20 2013.

​©David Tett

Heavy metal: Kate Hutchinson tries her hand at longsword fighting

As decreed by Time Out readers, Kate Hutchinson must face an ordeal by cold steel.

As a proud modern-day feminist, I like to think I’ve got most man-skills nailed. Unblocking a toilet? No sweat. Sinking six pints? Piece of cake! Sword fighting? Ah, that’s something that very few of us, no matter what bits we’ve got, can do. Fencing aside, it pretty much died out a century ago but there are places in London dedicated to keeping the spirit of the flashing blade alive.

I encounter the London Longsword Academy on a Monday night at City YMCA. Their motto promises that ‘one day the bullets will run out’, and when they do, the beefy men attending this class of four will be the equivalent of cruise missiles. Two of them could crush me with a glance and while the other one looks gentle, I’m guessing he has the nimbleness of Legolas from ‘The Lord of the Rings’. Thankfully, the medieval longswords that we are using are blunt, but they’re still Thor-hammer-heavy. ‘I am Brienne of Tarth!’ I think, as I almost drop the thing on my foot.

We launch straight into sparring, without a warm-up, so I soon get used to the feel of holding a sword two-handed. But what I can’t adjust to is the class’s pace. I’ve barely figured out how to advance before I’m swinging the three-foot blade above my head like a granny wielding a walking stick.

‘This is the plow, the food, the ox and day,’ says instructor Dave Rawlins, pointing his sword in different positions as I try to keep up. ‘Now we’re going to do a wrath strike from the right, turning into a feint, with an attack to the ear.’ I’ve no clue what’s going on. Now I must face the bitter realisation that my knowledge of pointy things you can stick into people extends only as far as the workings of the fork.

The next feat we try is even less straightforward, though Rawlins makes it look like ballet with blades. ‘Sorry if this hurts,’ I apologise, as I’m told to strike Legolas, then put my hand on the flat of the sword and push it into his neck, forcing himto the ground. Fortunately for him, I stagger around clumsily like a knight who’s quaffed too much mead. It’s a shame, really. Done properly, that move would kick some serious butt.

Soon our 90 minutes are up. I’m reassured that I did well, but I feel more like the Black Knight from ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ than Uma Thurman in ‘Kill Bill’. For those with more combat savvy, you’d be hard pressed to find a better place for sword practice. The next time I want to get my medieval kicks, though, maybe I’ll try live-action role-play.

Where: Location varies.

When: Six nights a week (not Sat).

How much: £14 per session.

For info, see londonlongsword.com

From the archive: Clubbing and the jpeg generation

I'm shifting all of my favouritist old Time Out columns onto here before they end up in the Internet cemetery. First up: this feature from 2007 on the new wave of clubbing photographers snapping the fashion kidz in east London. It originally appeared in Time Out London in March 2007. Read it after the jump.

Clubbing and the jpeg generation

Photo websites like Dirty Dirty Dancing and We Know What You Did Last Night not only showcase fabulous party people, they add excitement to an already frenetic party scene

Take a trip down to EC1 at the weekend and you’ll see something different. Not only are the clubs awash with party-goers in all their fluoro, metallic and skintight threads, but these clubbers are posing and pouting for some lanky guy with a nifty-looking camera on the dancefloor. Come the morning, proof of their party appearances is eagerly downloaded and lands on their online profiles for all to admire. URLs are eagerly swapped as the night before is crystallised in all its garish glory, devoured hungrily by the jpeg generation.

Digital photography is literally changing the face of clubbing, feeding on the swarms of London ravers who love nothing more than to don outlandish outfits and be seen. Generic crowd shots fill giant clubland websites like Tillate.com and Dontstayin.com, but a new school of photographers are more focused (excuse the pun) on snapping the beautiful with style. They’re not stalking the overexposed main floors of Fabric or theMinistry though. They are inspired by the thriving electro, indie and grime scene – represented by nights like Boom Boxx, Durrr, Computer Blue and Anti Social.

Alistair Allan is one photographer ‘capturing the moment’. His website, Dirty Dirty Dancing, casts a dewy glow on all who grace it and he barely misses out on a high-fashion hoedown. Only venturing into club photography a mere six months ago, his site now receives 900,000 page views a month. Similarly, Chris Birkenshaw, who runs online gallery We Know What You Did Last Night, only started snapping recently ‘by accident’ and has already done the rounds with nights like Club Motherfucker, Chalk and Our Disco. There are few photographers covering the ‘cool’ clubs to this degree.

Instead of pouring over MySpace, clubbers consult websites like these for insights into what parties are hot right now. ‘My friends have overheard quite a few people say, “Oh, Dirty Dirty Dancing is here!” or “I got dressed up for DDD” in clubs, but I don’t really listen,’ says Allan. ‘I try to steer clear of people who might ask me to take their photo – I usually just pick out the people I think look interesting.’

But if photographers are seeking out people purely on their looks then is this an accurate representation of London club culture? ‘Probably not, no,’ admits Birkenshaw. ‘You don’t want to see pictures of everyone; you just want people that look good or who are doing something weird. Private people turn their heads away when they see a camera, so I suppose [we’re] looking at clubbing through rose-tinted glasses.’

Allan argues that what he shoots is a true representation of the big-city nightlife, but only at the clubs he parties at. ‘It is kind-of only showing one aspect,’ he says, ‘but I’m not really interested [in all clubs]. ‘People look that good before post-production, but I mostly take photos of people I know. The flash is just really harsh with most cameras so I soften it all down,’ he continues, without revealing just how he gets that perfect-skin glow. ‘We never see the flaws in each other until we look at the photographs and start to notice things, so I’m portraying what people actually see.’

Allan and Birkenshaw both confess they sleep little more than forty winks a night, but then again, they do it for the fun, not for the cash. There’s no questioning, however, that there is still an enormous appetite for digital clubbing mementos, one that arguably heightens the clubbing experience as clubbers are inspired to create ever-more freaky dance moves and outlandish looks. ‘Some say I’m documenting the new rave scene and that people are going to look back on it and see the history of how it came about,’ says Allan. ‘Maybe in that historical sense [these photos] have importance, but it’s just fun for me; I’m not exploiting people’s vanity.’

Kate Hutchinson