July 9, 2006

• Much Morris Dancing

   

  
  

  I need to figure out how to use YouTube, since Sara took pictures and film....  I give you edited highlights, I am way too impatient to wait for everything to upload.  It was a gorgeous weekend: yesterday, we danced round London Bridge, today we danced round Richmond.  I spent all the Saturday night ceilidh dancing with Jameson. 

  
  

   

  
  

   This is the fool from Grand Western Morris.  I'm not entirely sure what he was doing, but this is the sort of thing he did all weekend.  I knitted, but that's the sort of thing I do all weekend.  If you want to see who hijacked my knitting, you'll have to check the protected post.  I'm not publishing a picture of her unless I know who can see it.  That's the way the cookie crumbles.  Not fair for the under sixteens to be subjected to public scrutiny.  Not without their parents' consent anyhow.  At this point, we'd left our first pub, and were in Borough Market.  We later moved down the river, but Sara wasn't with me any more, so the pictures are no good.  Good, though, were the wheat free sausages and cakes I got in the market.  Very, very good.

  
  

   We had a ceilidh at the school we were staying at, in Feltham, last night.  I didn't realise this was on the agenda, and had nothing suitable to ceilidh in.  Ended up still in my morris shirt, and a pair of jeans.  While both items were revolting when removed to go to bed, I'd sweated that much, they were utterly rancid by the time I got them out of the rucksack this evening.  I tell you, I thought I was sweaty when I was dancing with the incredibly cute Californian guy last weekend.   This was far, far worse.  And without the prospect of a shower at the end of the night either.  Jameson is a wonderful dancer - he also scared off every single other guy who considered the prospect of dancing with me.   I didn't mind.  We were dancing very well.  And I haven't seen him have that much fun at a ceilidh for a long, long while.  Heck, I haven't had that much fun for quite a while: and I was so tired I was completely and utterly on autopilot by that point.  Dancers at this point are Great Western Morris

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   I spent much of the weekend lugging around a tent and equipment - having failed to take them to practice on Wednesday night, I had no other recourse.  Tent is almost as big as me, even when folded (and needs hanging on the line to air, since the wind didn't quite blow the overnight rain off it).  It was lovely having my own 2 man tent (as opposed to the 4 man tent, or borrowing a 2 man).  Even if I did keep falling off my lilo during the night (and no, I had not had anything to drink.  Nothing alcoholic).  I am bruised.  From dancing, from falling off the lilo, from the bag, from people's thumbs, and, under two toenails (bye bye nice toes)

  
  

    

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  This did not stop the dancing action.  In fact, just have photos from this point, since I've run out of words, and I spent most of today concentrating on little E and her knitting of Jo's sock (heel now turned).

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  Smiffs in action.

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

    

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  Smiffs resting.  Little Folky Phil (2nd from left) is doing a ceilidh for my Brownies and Guides on Friday.  God help us all.

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  Bum on knees.  There is something inescapable about photographing Morris Dancers' knees at this sort of event.  It kinda, just, you know, happens.

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

  Group shot.  Minutes earlier, Matt had been up the lamppost.  However, he decided to join the floozies on the floor.  Ending up in a sort of Cat-Victoria-Fiona roll.  Bit like a fig roll, but less chewy. 

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   xxx

  
  

   

  • 1:49 pm
  • 3 Comments