‘Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy…’

Photographs by Andy Hall

First staged in Brighton in 2013, there are now Wuthering Heights gatherings in Canada, Australia, Ireland, Denmark, Germany, Sweden and beyond – and, of course, Kent. The concept is simple: participants gather to recreate the iconic music video for Bush’s 1978 chart-topper. Originally, the idea was to create an (unofficial) world record for the most people dressed as Bush in one place. Today, though, the Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever seems to be mostly about having a good day out, putting on a flowing frock and belting out “Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy, I’ve come home.”

“The visuals are just absolutely phenomenal,” says Folkestone harbour experience manager Hazel Hughes. “We have this beautiful parade of Kate Bushes, the spectacular views, the sea of red and the sea of blue they’re standing on. It has a natural beauty to it.”

It’s also in England, so naturally it’s pissing it down. After weeks of sweltering dry heat that left most of the country parched and yellow, a Sunday storm has arrived that would have made Emily Brontë proud. Across Folkestone harbour, shrieking, fleeing Kate Bushes take shelter under awnings or – the more popular option – in the pub. It’s so wet, some sensibly forward-thinking Kates have paired their crimson gowns with Hunter wellies. One male Kate, in his fifties, has removed his trainers and is sitting by the train station, trying to avoid trench foot setting in.

“It was always this glamorous,” jokes guitarist Brian Bath, who was one of Bush’s original backing musicians. He has been performing as part of the KT Bush Band since 1977, and they are here today to entertain the red sea of Kates. Remarkably, even when soaked, everyone is still in a great mood.

Even more remarkably, by 4pm, just in time for the second Wuthering Heights performance of the day (the first was at midday, with a quick practice session beforehand), the storm has passed. Teenage Kates in Doc Martens lay themselves across the cobblestones to dry off. A group of mums from Whitstable board the old-fashioned merry-go-round by the beach, still singing. Groups of delighted, excited Kates gather by the lighthouse, drinking ice buckets of fizz, eating packed lunches and adjusting their flower crowns.

Among them is Tim, who has come from nearby Ashford with his swing dance troupe, and sisters Ash and Shelly, who have travelled from Gillingham and have just bumped into Folkestone local Fionnuala, a friend of theirs from art school, for the first time in 41 years. “We’re not splitting up again,” she says, as the newly reunited friends prepare for their second dance of the day. With the rest of the Kates, they drift off to sway and yodel by the harbour, among Aperol spritzes and pugs in tutus.

The only thing missing is Kate Bush herself. Even in her pomp, she managed to avoid all of the usual press today’s pop princesses have to endure. She has seldom performed live: just one six-week tour in 1979, and a month-long residency in London in 2014. She has not been photographed since the year of her last public performance, and now lives a quiet life with her family on the Devon coast.

“I don’t think this is quite the atmosphere that she’d like to put herself in,” says Hazel diplomatically. “But then again, maybe she has come down and we don’t even know. There are so many Kate Bushes she might have just been surrounded by her twins.”

The truth is that it doesn’t really matter whether the real Kate Bush is here or not, either in Folkestone or Adelaide or London or Brighton or Berlin. The other Kates are here to make up for it. It’s a concert without a celebrity appearance, and one that also comes without price gouging and fights to the death for tickets. Even for rain-soaked cynics such as myself, it’s hard not to find the joy infectious.

In an era where flash-mobs are considered outré, the Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever has become its own beast. A big day out for people who want to sing and dance with their mates in public. Is it about Kate Bush? Not really. Does anyone care? Not really, no.