One Small Step for Northwest Morris
Southwell Folk Festival has, I think, the shortest Morris procession I have ever encountered (as opposed to the sadly missed Gate to Southwell Festival whose procession was anything but short).
Was dancing at the Festival with Mortimers (and a fun, if wet, weekend was had what with gin, pimms and buses that lost the ability to reverse when faced with a row of cars), we were leading the procession (more of a 'proc' really) and were lining up for ages (whilst dancing the Macerena, obviously. Best bit was when one of the long-sword dancers lined up next to us joined in and nearly decapitated half her side as she turned with her sword outstretched...) before processing from a 1/3 of the way down the street to the other end. Obviously, having reached the end, gone 'was that it?!' and milled in confusion for a couple of secs, we then proceeded to make the procession much longer for the rest of the sides by forming a triumphal arch for them with our sticks aloft; a decision we quickly regretted once we realised just how many teams were coming through. Don't know where they'd been storing them all. I suspect stacking. Anyhow, I think the last couple of teams ended up doing nearly triple the distance thanks to all the assembled 'archers'.
Sadly, my airbed gave up the ghost on the Friday night beyond my ability to repair so it has been retired. Fortunately, I had my sheepskin along and was able to sleep on that (even though I woke up with a mouthful of fluff) but it looks like the camp-bed will be going to Kentwell. Will have to save up for another airbed before Warwick.
The festival was hit hard by the torrential rain and I think there'd been near disaster on Friday before I got there with one of the marquees collapsing and wrecking a sound desk and the ground was soggy in places and awash in others but, that did provide one of my favorite moments of the festival. There was, basically, a pond next to the performance boards on the site and, by the end of the weekend, it had been adorned by 3 little yellow rubber ducks. I love folkies.
In cycling news, I was saved from going for a swim this evening by my morning cycle to work combining the 2 activities for me, which was nice. Sort of had to wring myself out at work having trudged up the stairs leaving a trail of water like some sea monster from Doctor Who with my trainers merrily blowing bubbles and making squelchy noises.
Was dancing at the Festival with Mortimers (and a fun, if wet, weekend was had what with gin, pimms and buses that lost the ability to reverse when faced with a row of cars), we were leading the procession (more of a 'proc' really) and were lining up for ages (whilst dancing the Macerena, obviously. Best bit was when one of the long-sword dancers lined up next to us joined in and nearly decapitated half her side as she turned with her sword outstretched...) before processing from a 1/3 of the way down the street to the other end. Obviously, having reached the end, gone 'was that it?!' and milled in confusion for a couple of secs, we then proceeded to make the procession much longer for the rest of the sides by forming a triumphal arch for them with our sticks aloft; a decision we quickly regretted once we realised just how many teams were coming through. Don't know where they'd been storing them all. I suspect stacking. Anyhow, I think the last couple of teams ended up doing nearly triple the distance thanks to all the assembled 'archers'.
Sadly, my airbed gave up the ghost on the Friday night beyond my ability to repair so it has been retired. Fortunately, I had my sheepskin along and was able to sleep on that (even though I woke up with a mouthful of fluff) but it looks like the camp-bed will be going to Kentwell. Will have to save up for another airbed before Warwick.
The festival was hit hard by the torrential rain and I think there'd been near disaster on Friday before I got there with one of the marquees collapsing and wrecking a sound desk and the ground was soggy in places and awash in others but, that did provide one of my favorite moments of the festival. There was, basically, a pond next to the performance boards on the site and, by the end of the weekend, it had been adorned by 3 little yellow rubber ducks. I love folkies.
In cycling news, I was saved from going for a swim this evening by my morning cycle to work combining the 2 activities for me, which was nice. Sort of had to wring myself out at work having trudged up the stairs leaving a trail of water like some sea monster from Doctor Who with my trainers merrily blowing bubbles and making squelchy noises.