We've been guests at a fair few days of dance this year, and thoroughly enjoyed all of them. This time it was our turn to organise. We had been invited to open the Bewdley Harvest Fair and were making a weekend of it by inviting a few local sides for the next day. Invitations had been e-mailed, replies received, and dance spots arranged. We'd also agreed to run a dance workshop on the Saturday in the museum, and were hoping for a few willing volunteers!
The day dawned bright and sunny, if a little chilly, and we all met up at the museum entrance at around 10am, eager to start. We did a few dances, got a fair amount of applause, and then made way for a procession of heavy horses. This gave us chance for a break in the museum tea shop, and a well earned cup of tea. No beer? I hear you cry. Well, it was only about 1115, and you'll be pleased to know I managed a pint or two later. Anyway, a cup of tea and a listen to the excellent Whalebone who were playing in the cafe. They played a few tunes, including one of our dances, King of the Fairies, although a lot faster than we do it! I had a chat about their stomp-box too. It's on my wish list.
On to our workshop which we held in the gardens adjoining the museum. A little disappointing with only about half a dozen volunteers. I've always said that nothing clears a crowd quicker than talk of audience participation. Quite a few wanted to watch on this occasion, but not many took the plunge. So if you are ever out, watching a morris side, and they ask for volunteers, go on! You know you want to really. You won't regret it, honest.
Anyway, we taught a small select group an Upton Snodsbury, had another cup of tea, and wandered back to the front of the museum for our second set. The only slight problem with the museum front is that it seems to be constantly in the shade, and so quite chilly on a brisk autumn day. However, another great set and a fair sized audience of happy shoppers. Bewdley bustles a bit on a Saturday so there was always a constant supply of new onlookers. I managed to run down to the Arches for a nice pint of Robinson's cider. And then a bit later on I managed to run down for another one.
The set finished for the day, we said our goodbyes to the museum staff, packed our things up and enjoyed a swift one in the sun, by the river. Well, the Robinson's was slipping down rather nicely by then.....
Friday 26 October 2012
Wednesday 17 October 2012
Keep On Walking
After our successful dance-out at the Robin Hood, Drayton in May, those hard dancin', hard drinkin' girls from Aelfgythe had invited us to their day of dance. Alvechurch is their home, an ancient village only about half an hour away, and fairly close to the Worcester and Birmingham canal. But more of that later. We took the dogs, "we need to get them more acclimatised to dancing, and you can hold them while you're drumming (?!!!) said my wife. So we packed them in the car, Darcy the Labrador and Nutmeg the Cocker Spaniel, along with all the dance gear and three drums, and off we went, bright and early. Having got lost only twice on the way, we arrived in well under an hour, and parked, on advice, in the car park of the Red Lion, in the middle of the village.
It was around 10am, and we were due to start at 1030. I got out. My wife sat in the car. "Are we not going then?" I asked. "Let's wait for the others." "But they might not even park here" "Do you know where we are supposed to be?" "No, do you?" "Yes, the Crown" "Where's that then?""I don't know"
Such was the quick-fire repartee. We agreed to do the unthinkable and ask someone. After about ten minutes a local looking woman walked past and pointed us along a road, up a hill. "Just keep on walking along there, it's near the canal. Just keep walking." We did. For about twenty minutes, my wife with the two excited dogs, me buried under a mountain of drums, until we finally crossed the canal and found ourselves in amongst a gathering of morris dancers. It was just 1030. Just about time for a cup of tea then. There was a huge queue at the bar, and two young barmaids were running frantically around trying to serve dozens of coffees (no tea) from a broken espresso machine. I kid you not. In the corner of the bar sat two bemused men in blue work shirts. I don't know whether they were delivery men or gas fitters or whatever, but they were sat there at 1030am with a pint of bitter each. "Good lads!" said I. They grinned.
Having got my coffees I went back outside to find that Aelfgythe had done a dance and we were all dispersing to our first slots. We were back down in the village. My wife started walking back down the hill with her friend and the dogs. I threw my drums in the back of our guitarist's station wagon and jumped in. Our first spot was outside the lovely Joshua Tree shop in the village centre. We were dancing with Black Adder. We danced turn and turn about in front of an small audience. Variously there were: two women, a man and his dog, a young woman from a shop over the road, who stood on the opposite corner throughout the whole hour, two women with two young kids, the woman from the Joshua Tree. Throughout the whole hour a few people rushed past and I'm sure one man actually crossed the road to the other side and then crossed back again at a safe distance. On the whole though, I think it's fairly safe to say that nothing much happens in Alvechurch on a Saturday morning. The woman from the Joshua Tree was lovely though, and didn't mind at all us setting up in front of her shop.
After a happy session with Black Adder, we realised that it was 1145 and we had to be back near the canal, at another pub called the Weighbridge. We started walking....... We arrived at about ten past twelve, and were thrown straight into a dance. I had to sing John Barleycorn and they wouldn't even wait for me to go and get one in! Life is so unfair sometimes. The dance over, I strode purposefully up to the bar, tankard in hand. What a choice! Enville's best, a few guests and a very tempting Tardebigge cider! Discretion was the better part of valour, and I had an excellent pint of Chainmaker Mild, only 3.6%. Which generally means you can have more. I had a couple there, whilst we danced through a nice set with Alvechurch, Black Adder again, and Step On Board Appalachian dancers. A nice mix. We finished with a shared Jane's Dance with Black Adder. We now had an hour for lunch! My wife wanted a ham and cheese roll, I fancied a pork pie, but there was a huge queue at the bar by now, so we walked back down to the village where we'd seen a fish and chip shop. The Tudor Rose fish and chip shop, set in a great little Tudor building, do great chips and a mean chicken tandoori pie! Of course, I needed something to wash it down, and whilst we were getting ready outside the Joshua Tree again, I nipped down to the Swan to refill my tankard.
Oh, I nearly forgot! We did a belly dance! Yes, again. With the most excellent Bellyfusion, who have swapped their piratey stuff for a really entertaining and amusing circus style show. Catch them somewhere soon! The afternoon outside the Joshua Tree was slightly better audience wise, and we had a pleasant hour there with our hosts Aelfgythe. They put loads of energy in and are really great fun! Last session of the day was a sort of free for all at the Red Lion, where, if you remember, we had parked at the start of the day. A relatively short and flat walk then, to the said pub, where I was delighted to find they were serving Banks Original. Since moving to the West Midlands I've been quite taken with the lighter style of mild, of which Banks Original is a good example. I had one, and another one to make sure. Besides, Alvechurch Morris Men were there again, and they don't hold back the drinking! I was chatting to our foreman, who is not over fond of us drinking whilst performing.
Foreman: "I thought Alvechurch were on before us"
Me: "Well, they should be, but you can't really rely on them can you?"
Foreman: "Not really, no."
Me: "They are worse than me, aren't they?"
Foreman: "Yes, and that's saying something!"
They enjoy themselves though, and I suppose we none of us would do it if that weren't the case. The dancing gradually came to an end and it only remained for the Aelfgythe Squire to thank us all for coming. All in all, a great day, but a lot of exercise walking up and down those hills.
Lesson learned: I really MUST get a trolley for my drums.
It was around 10am, and we were due to start at 1030. I got out. My wife sat in the car. "Are we not going then?" I asked. "Let's wait for the others." "But they might not even park here" "Do you know where we are supposed to be?" "No, do you?" "Yes, the Crown" "Where's that then?""I don't know"
Such was the quick-fire repartee. We agreed to do the unthinkable and ask someone. After about ten minutes a local looking woman walked past and pointed us along a road, up a hill. "Just keep on walking along there, it's near the canal. Just keep walking." We did. For about twenty minutes, my wife with the two excited dogs, me buried under a mountain of drums, until we finally crossed the canal and found ourselves in amongst a gathering of morris dancers. It was just 1030. Just about time for a cup of tea then. There was a huge queue at the bar, and two young barmaids were running frantically around trying to serve dozens of coffees (no tea) from a broken espresso machine. I kid you not. In the corner of the bar sat two bemused men in blue work shirts. I don't know whether they were delivery men or gas fitters or whatever, but they were sat there at 1030am with a pint of bitter each. "Good lads!" said I. They grinned.
Having got my coffees I went back outside to find that Aelfgythe had done a dance and we were all dispersing to our first slots. We were back down in the village. My wife started walking back down the hill with her friend and the dogs. I threw my drums in the back of our guitarist's station wagon and jumped in. Our first spot was outside the lovely Joshua Tree shop in the village centre. We were dancing with Black Adder. We danced turn and turn about in front of an small audience. Variously there were: two women, a man and his dog, a young woman from a shop over the road, who stood on the opposite corner throughout the whole hour, two women with two young kids, the woman from the Joshua Tree. Throughout the whole hour a few people rushed past and I'm sure one man actually crossed the road to the other side and then crossed back again at a safe distance. On the whole though, I think it's fairly safe to say that nothing much happens in Alvechurch on a Saturday morning. The woman from the Joshua Tree was lovely though, and didn't mind at all us setting up in front of her shop.
After a happy session with Black Adder, we realised that it was 1145 and we had to be back near the canal, at another pub called the Weighbridge. We started walking....... We arrived at about ten past twelve, and were thrown straight into a dance. I had to sing John Barleycorn and they wouldn't even wait for me to go and get one in! Life is so unfair sometimes. The dance over, I strode purposefully up to the bar, tankard in hand. What a choice! Enville's best, a few guests and a very tempting Tardebigge cider! Discretion was the better part of valour, and I had an excellent pint of Chainmaker Mild, only 3.6%. Which generally means you can have more. I had a couple there, whilst we danced through a nice set with Alvechurch, Black Adder again, and Step On Board Appalachian dancers. A nice mix. We finished with a shared Jane's Dance with Black Adder. We now had an hour for lunch! My wife wanted a ham and cheese roll, I fancied a pork pie, but there was a huge queue at the bar by now, so we walked back down to the village where we'd seen a fish and chip shop. The Tudor Rose fish and chip shop, set in a great little Tudor building, do great chips and a mean chicken tandoori pie! Of course, I needed something to wash it down, and whilst we were getting ready outside the Joshua Tree again, I nipped down to the Swan to refill my tankard.
Oh, I nearly forgot! We did a belly dance! Yes, again. With the most excellent Bellyfusion, who have swapped their piratey stuff for a really entertaining and amusing circus style show. Catch them somewhere soon! The afternoon outside the Joshua Tree was slightly better audience wise, and we had a pleasant hour there with our hosts Aelfgythe. They put loads of energy in and are really great fun! Last session of the day was a sort of free for all at the Red Lion, where, if you remember, we had parked at the start of the day. A relatively short and flat walk then, to the said pub, where I was delighted to find they were serving Banks Original. Since moving to the West Midlands I've been quite taken with the lighter style of mild, of which Banks Original is a good example. I had one, and another one to make sure. Besides, Alvechurch Morris Men were there again, and they don't hold back the drinking! I was chatting to our foreman, who is not over fond of us drinking whilst performing.
Foreman: "I thought Alvechurch were on before us"
Me: "Well, they should be, but you can't really rely on them can you?"
Foreman: "Not really, no."
Me: "They are worse than me, aren't they?"
Foreman: "Yes, and that's saying something!"
They enjoy themselves though, and I suppose we none of us would do it if that weren't the case. The dancing gradually came to an end and it only remained for the Aelfgythe Squire to thank us all for coming. All in all, a great day, but a lot of exercise walking up and down those hills.
Lesson learned: I really MUST get a trolley for my drums.
Thursday 4 October 2012
Better and Better
Another Saturday, another day of dance; this time Lincoln. A good gig for me, as it's only 16 miles from where I come from, and hence my old stamping ground.Way back in April, when we first found out about this, my distinctly non-folky family had all agreed to come and watch. So not much pressure there then. We were missing half the band, as Ian and Dave couldn't make it.So just Clive, the guitarist and me. It was going to be a long day.
We were camping the weekend, at a nice little site between Newark and Lincoln. We all arrived at various times during Friday evening, and had a pleasant gathering with wine and nibbles. The weather was kind. The birds were singing, everything was right with the world, and we had a relatively early night in order to be ready for the morning.
Arriving at Lincoln bright and early, we met up with Clive who had forsaken the camping for the lure of a b&b. The first dance spot was at the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, quite out of the way really, and hopefully a good place to limber up. There was a small crowd watching the Poachers Morris as we arrived, and began to set up. We were dancing with two other sides, Maids of the Mill, and Slapdash Appalachian. Maids of the Mill are a Dutch ladies side from from Utrecht and their squire asked me "which of these sides is Slapdash?" I couldn't resist it. "I think they probably all are."
Anyway, we started off, and we were probably as slapdash as we have ever been. The music was difficult with just guitar and drums, and during Manning Tree, I just couldn't hear Clive at all from my position at the bottom of the set. The dancing was okay, but everything felt a bit flat really. We were watched by a small crowd, which was probably just as well.
We finished that set and moved down to the cathedral area, St Pauls Yard in fact, where Grimsby Morris and Dukes Dandy were waiting, along with a fairly large crowd. We followed Dukes Dandy on, and did some quite reasonable dances in fairly quick succession; there was quite a bit of clapping and cheering and we seemed to be doing okay. It turned midday, and I started looking round for my first pint, spurred on by my rendition of John Barleycorn. I spotted The Cloud Bar, the sort of trendy sports bar place I wouldn't usually go in, but needs must. A very pleasant barmaid served me a pint of Addlestone's Cider and chatted about the dancing.
Suitably refreshed, I took my tankard out and carried on.
We did a few more dances.
I had another pint.
Suddenly I was really enjoying myself. And so were the crowd.
When we finished the set, a young couple came over and asked if we could teach them a dance. Apparently they were media studies students making some sort of travelogue.
We taught the young man an Upton Snodsbury during which he managed to bash my wife's finger with his stick.
Thanks again to the staff of the Cloud Bar, who came to the rescue with an ice pack. They really are nice people!
After a well deserved lunch then, on to the cathedral, where we met my family. My Dear Old Mum, eighty years young, had walked up Steep Hill, and was all in. They watched us for the next set though, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Our squire even dedicated a dance to my mum, who was quite embarrassed by it all! We had the biggest crowd of the day too, I reckon upwards of two hundred towards the end. We did a Brimfield and a Twiglet. Both went down a storm. By the time of the massed dance at the end, we were rockin'.
All the sides met at the end of the day for one last dance each. At the cathedral, where, conveniently, we were already. It was done in reverse alphabetical order. I knew there was some reason why we chose the name Wytchwood. On first then. Jane's Dance. The crowd went mad. We sat down and watched the other sides. There is some photographic evidence of me watching the Raving Maes, apparently. And drinking more beer. Obviously.
What a great day it was! After a fairly flat start, it just got better and better. And so did we.
Later on, we spent a very pleasant evening in the Strugglers, an old local pub under the castle walls, and probably the best pub in Lincoln. I had several pints of Bateman's. It was excellent. As was the company. What a great end to a very pleasant day of dance. Roll on the next one!
We were camping the weekend, at a nice little site between Newark and Lincoln. We all arrived at various times during Friday evening, and had a pleasant gathering with wine and nibbles. The weather was kind. The birds were singing, everything was right with the world, and we had a relatively early night in order to be ready for the morning.
Arriving at Lincoln bright and early, we met up with Clive who had forsaken the camping for the lure of a b&b. The first dance spot was at the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, quite out of the way really, and hopefully a good place to limber up. There was a small crowd watching the Poachers Morris as we arrived, and began to set up. We were dancing with two other sides, Maids of the Mill, and Slapdash Appalachian. Maids of the Mill are a Dutch ladies side from from Utrecht and their squire asked me "which of these sides is Slapdash?" I couldn't resist it. "I think they probably all are."
Anyway, we started off, and we were probably as slapdash as we have ever been. The music was difficult with just guitar and drums, and during Manning Tree, I just couldn't hear Clive at all from my position at the bottom of the set. The dancing was okay, but everything felt a bit flat really. We were watched by a small crowd, which was probably just as well.
We finished that set and moved down to the cathedral area, St Pauls Yard in fact, where Grimsby Morris and Dukes Dandy were waiting, along with a fairly large crowd. We followed Dukes Dandy on, and did some quite reasonable dances in fairly quick succession; there was quite a bit of clapping and cheering and we seemed to be doing okay. It turned midday, and I started looking round for my first pint, spurred on by my rendition of John Barleycorn. I spotted The Cloud Bar, the sort of trendy sports bar place I wouldn't usually go in, but needs must. A very pleasant barmaid served me a pint of Addlestone's Cider and chatted about the dancing.
Suitably refreshed, I took my tankard out and carried on.
We did a few more dances.
I had another pint.
Suddenly I was really enjoying myself. And so were the crowd.
When we finished the set, a young couple came over and asked if we could teach them a dance. Apparently they were media studies students making some sort of travelogue.
We taught the young man an Upton Snodsbury during which he managed to bash my wife's finger with his stick.
Thanks again to the staff of the Cloud Bar, who came to the rescue with an ice pack. They really are nice people!
After a well deserved lunch then, on to the cathedral, where we met my family. My Dear Old Mum, eighty years young, had walked up Steep Hill, and was all in. They watched us for the next set though, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Our squire even dedicated a dance to my mum, who was quite embarrassed by it all! We had the biggest crowd of the day too, I reckon upwards of two hundred towards the end. We did a Brimfield and a Twiglet. Both went down a storm. By the time of the massed dance at the end, we were rockin'.
All the sides met at the end of the day for one last dance each. At the cathedral, where, conveniently, we were already. It was done in reverse alphabetical order. I knew there was some reason why we chose the name Wytchwood. On first then. Jane's Dance. The crowd went mad. We sat down and watched the other sides. There is some photographic evidence of me watching the Raving Maes, apparently. And drinking more beer. Obviously.
What a great day it was! After a fairly flat start, it just got better and better. And so did we.
Later on, we spent a very pleasant evening in the Strugglers, an old local pub under the castle walls, and probably the best pub in Lincoln. I had several pints of Bateman's. It was excellent. As was the company. What a great end to a very pleasant day of dance. Roll on the next one!
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