Morris 18-30 weekend, 13-15 October

[king_pellinor]

Sorry for the delay writing this up.

On Friday October 13 the Isle of Wight played host to the 5th annual Morris 18-30 weekend, which is a chance for young morris men to get together and have a good time without all the old blokes grumbling about how their knees aren't as springy as they used to be, and so on.

I organised it, having been volunteered to do so last year.

Organisation consisted of:

- Booking a scout hut;
- Persuading KPMG to give the scouts a donation, which incidentally saved me having to pay for the scout hut;
- Booking a bus to take us round the Island;
- Arranging for 2 barrels of beer to be delivered to the scout hut;
- Agreeing with various pubs that we could dance at them, and that two of them would feed us;
- Getting other dance sides to come out to dance in Cowes on the Sunday;
- Persuading people to cook and serve dinner for us on the Saturday night;
- Sending a press release to the County Press to try and get some publicity.

So, the weekend really started on Thursday 12th, when Ventnor Brewery was supposed to give me an hour's warning of arriving so I could get home from work and meet them at the scout hut to set up the barrels. In the event they gave me 2 minutes' warning, so I arranged for them to leave the barrels in our back garden; so they left them in the front. Ho hum. I then took the barrels down and set them up myself that night (Ventnor Golden and Druid Fluid, for those interested in such things).

On Friday I spent the morning shopping for the food (dinner and two cooked breakfasts) and carting stuff down to the hall, and the afternoon preparing the dinner so it wouldn't be too onerous a job on Saturday: making jelly, and chopping ingredients for the stew. In the process of rendering a 6lb lump of brisket to half-inch cubes I managed to slice off a chunk of fingernail, but it was (surprisingly) not too bloody or painful. Oddly, one batch of onions made me very tearful, but another batch not at all.

Then it was back home to drop the car off for LadyofAstolat, then over to Southampton to meet people at the pub (the Duke of Wellington). On the way over I got a call from Dell Boy: I'd arranged parking for people at work, but he'd arrived only to find security knew nothing of it. This was swiftly resolved with a call to our own reception. Dell Boy then took about half an hour to actually get around to arriving at the pub, which was odd given that it was five minutes walk away. I spent the next couple of hours sitting in the pub fielding phone calls and talking people down to the pub. At about 8.40 we realised we had all but one of the people due to come, so we nipped down to the 9.00 ferry, leaving him to make his own way over.

I'd asked about dancing on the ferry a while before, but the Red Funnel people had said it was up to the Captain so they couldn't say. So we danced anyway, up on the top deck.

A quick floating bridge tip and a short hike later we were at the hall, and got stuck into the beer. Almost immediately some people decided to go off to the pub, so I gave them directions to the Kingston Arms - for some reason we weren't all going at once. Most of them came back a few minutes later saying they couldn't find it but that some hardy souls had pressed on, so I led everyone else off to the Duke of York - conveniently close to the floating bridge so we could meet our prodigal. Everyone eventually turned up there, and we did a lot of singing and I believe some dancing, though I'm not sure on that. We did get an enthusiastic audience of a bloke who invited us to a part the next night "next to the Co-op". On the pub closing we all went back home to bed, via the kebab shop, where we did Monks March (with hankies, not tankards) to wild acclaim. On the way from there to bed we got distracted by two barrels of beer and a big hall to dance in, so we did a load of that for a few more hours. At some stage Black Geoffrey fell asleep, so we carried his bed out of the fire exit (and, come to think of it, into a road - but I didn't think of that then) and left him sleeping outside. He didn't seem to mind.

On Saturday morning I was feeling slightly loth to get out of bed, so stayed curled up while Dell Boy did his chef thing and produced a mountain of bacon, egg, sausage, beans, tomatoes and toast - and tea, in big pots. This got everyone set up well, and we were nearly ready to go when a strange man turned up at the open fire exit. He turned out to be the minibus driver; the minibus turned out to be a full-size service bus, with 40 seats and a big open space near the front for wheelchairs. So we all loaded up, complete with a plastic barrel of beer decanted from the main barrels, and set off for Newport. On the way I was forced to sing the now traditional "Dido Bendigo", us being on a bus.

The bus driver seemed to enjoy watching us at every opportunity, although he declined the offer of free beer as long as he was driving. He turned out to be in a samba band - I had to carefully school my expression at that revelation - one of eight (!) on the Island.

We got to St Thomas's Square at about 10.30 and met a bloke in a bow tie who was about to do some busking. Rather than compete with us he just got a cup of coffee and watched. He said afterwards that he'd very much enjoyed it, and gave me his card, though I'm not sure why as Bedford seems to be a long way to come for piano accompaniment. Indeed it seems to be a long way to go just to do some busking, but I'm sure he knows his business best.

We got a very good crowd - I as hoping to get a lot of passing trade, and it worked. Mike the Musician turned up to watch us dance, as did the Toddle Waddle, led by someone in a big duck costume who ended up being dragged into the set. The County Press photographer was there too, although I only know this as I collared the bloke with a big camera and asked who he was - he didn't actually come up an introduce himself or anything. Mind you, he did have people's names to go with the photos in the paper, so maybe he'd introduced himself to someone else.

We left to go to Godshill and dance at the Old Smithy. We had a few coachloads of visitors and the Quiet Musician from the Men of Wight to watch us, although I unintentionally elayed the start of proceedings by pointing out the Cider Barn as we arrived, which left us rather short of dancers for ten minutes. Fairly unexceptional dancing, except that at the end of Bonny Green Garters we danced through the tea rooms, which caused some surprise.

The next spot was Shanklin Sea Front, which we reached by dancing Monk's March in the wheelchair space on the bus. This was the hanky version not the drinking one, but it was still pretty tricky doing heys when the ground was moving faster than you were.

There was no-one at all at the sea front, so we went to the Longshoreman to get our lunch. I was met there by someone who asked when we were dancing, as she'd brought Brendan along to watch, so while the chips were cooked I took everyone along to dance for Brendan and his two companions. Then back to the Longshoreman for food, of which there was plenty. Towards the end of the meal it was noted that Black Geoffrey was absent, so some people solicitously made sure there was a plateful of food for him in case he was feeling ill and had missed it, which I thought was rather sweet. I then found him sitting outside: he'd just been a bit hot and so was eating his lunch in the fresh air. On coming back in he found a nice plateful of food, and on being told it had been saved for him proceeded to merrily eat a second lunch.

I'd said we'd dance at the Chine (actually, I'd asked if we could eat at the Chine, but had been sent to the Longshoreman, assuming that it replaced the Chine, but then found that the landlord (of both) was expecting us at the Chine) so we went there, in the 18-30's crocodile. There were two bar staff and two customers, so we danced in front of the bar. This was a space about 3 feet wide, with a big bar hatch over the top with sticky-out bits, so the landlord was very nervous all the way through, but we had no problems. Maid of the Mill Ilmington was the particularly notoable dance. We also had some songs, including one of many repetitions of "I'm my own Grandpa" from Squireson.

I then took us up to the old village, on the basis that we'd been 2 hours in Shanklin and only 7 people had seen us dance, arranging to meet the coach up there. We had quite a nice spot, with a fair few passers by being caught.

On to the Yar Bridge next, where we got the usual warm welcome. There were two big red double-deckers there, with a load of bus enthusiasts, including one very nice blonde one. AJ's attempts to co-opt her for Brighton Camp (same dance as MoW's Cock of the North) were foiled by her getting on a bus and leaving, so he grabbed someone else instead, who seemed to enjoy it very much. We did a few more dances, including a seated version of Shepherd's Hey - each side of the set sitting along one side of a picnic table, and the clapping happening in the space between.

I was getting a bit worried that I was rushing people around, so I was prepared to stop for the day there, but everyone was keen to keep moving, so we went off to Arreton Barns. We found a bit of an audience there, including the Venerables. I tried to organise some sort of joiny-in dance, but it was something of a disaster.

All back to the hall then for dinner. LadyofAstolat was there with a few other people from Baker's Dozen, including (and this is important) a nice young lady, daughter of the Baker's Drummer. They'd flagrantly ignored my instructions about how to cook the stew, but that's OK as they did it better - I'd only told them the easy way - and had laid out the tables very nicely. So, dinner being ready we got stuck in. Tinned soup and rolls to start with, followed by boeuf bourguignon, rice and dumplings, then jelly and ice-cream with sprinkles. The Trepannee forgot to tell me he was vegetarian, so had rice with leftover soup on for his main course.

The dinner was accompanied by Mad Bomber's tankard going round as a loving cup, with the whole people standing up on either side business. The main course was very much taken up with earnest discussion of the future of Morris 18-30, and concluded:

- 2007 would be in York, courtesy of Ebor;
- Morris Offspring isn't real morris;
- We should all go to Sidmouth and show MO how it's done for real;
- We should consider a mixed weekend, but the male-only one is most important.

The kitchen staff all wandered off at some point, after some songs (include LadyofAstolat and me in our famous duet) so we decided to go the party we'd been invited to the night before. After filling up from the barrels we headed up to the Co-op, but couldn't find any evidence of a party (on reflection, I note that there are at least 2 Co-ops in Cowes. I hope they're not still waiting). This was despite calling at a likely-looking house to ask, and I am assured that the woman who answered had been at the pub when we were invited.... Luckily, I had overheard Wench #2 saying she and Baker's Drummer were heading off to a party at the Old Biker's house, so I quickly rang LadyofAstolat to find out where that might be. While I was doing that, some sort of stick dance took place in the Co-op to amuse the checkout staff, using mars bars - although I understand we had to buy them first.

On receipt of directions I led my merry men off on a party hunt. At about the right place we found a nice young lady waiting in a car outside a house. The lady of the house came out to see what the commotion was, and I realised we'd found the place. So we invited ourselves in: 17 morris men in a house which was already quite full with a party, although to be fair I knew all or most of the people there - despite them being in French costume. We did a few dances, including a stick one using prawns (they didn't last well), and in the course of this broke a lampshade on the chandelier. After assurances that hey had a spare we eventually took our leave.

I was too busy taking our leave to notice the next bit, which is apparently that a load of chavs turned up and started mocking the silly sods in morris costume by pretending to dance. At this point the Treppanee started criticising the height of their capers and inciting them to dance higher, which annoyed them into agreesive behaviour. I understand that said aggression consisted of beckoning and saying "come on then" in a manner boding violence, whilst backing away. On being laughed at they left.

Lacking a party we went off to the pub, the Kingston Arms this time. This was inhabited by about 3 other people, so we had a fairly lengthy singing session. I don't recall dancing, but I'd be surprised to learn that we didn't.

At some point I threw in to the conversation that the Drummer's Daughter had mentioned that she quite liked "the tall one", which occasioned something of a Spartacus moment.

Back in the hall we had more dancing and singing, and mucking about with a stretcher from the stores. Again this is getting a bit hazy, but I do recall setting up 10 chairs in a triangle and then hurling a stretcher-borne body at them to see how many fell over. Eventually Black Geoffrey fell asleep on the stretcher in the middle of the room, so to keep people quietly busy a table was set for breakfast. Said table was suspended on chairs over Black Geoffrey's stretcher, and set out with plates, bowls, crockery and pizza boxes. Oh, yes, that was it - we rang for pizza at some stage. AJ ordered some and put money in the pot, then went to sleep on the grounds that he very much doubted that we'd ever actually manage to get any, but we did - two meat feasts and a vegetarian one, IIRC.

Next morning I woke first and cooked up the breakfast - sans eggs, Dell Boy having used them all up the previous day. I spent the next hour telling people we had to be out by 10.45 for dancing at 11.00, and was reasonably impressed that we did actually leave at 11.00, four people to get the 11.30 ferry and the rest of us to dance. Thanks also to LadyofAstolat for bringing the car down so it could be filled with everyone's kit - all but Squireson's, for some reason. We were at Cowes Parade by about 11.15, which isn't too bad, and had full teams from the Men of Wight, Oyster Girls and Wight Bells, and so had a good dance for an hour and a half. Men of Wight were favourably impressed by the 18-30s' energy, especially when we did a combined Upton Stick, and the 18-30s quite enjoyed mucking about with Jockey Brackley: I'd introduced them to the idea of changing in and out of the set at St Thomas's Square, and they embraced it whole-heartedly this time round. It turned out that Squireson was The Tall One.

After the Parade we crocodiled up to the Anchor for lunch, along with a few Men of Wight and the Wight Bells. The Bells did some dancing, and we had a jig or two, and Morris 18-30 did some, incuding getting Drummer's Daughter in for Brighton Camp - or was it Glorishears? Anyway, we all formed an orderly queue. Plenty of lunch was had, and in a spirit of scientific enquiry Squireson was anointed with pheromones to see what effect this might have on Drummer's Daughter. I suspect that any effect may have been dampened by having a dozen people sitting staring at them expectantly.

Eventually we left to pick up the kit from the car (which LadyofAstolat had left by the floating bridge) and get people over for the 3.30 ferry. I loitered for a bit to see people off, then went back to the hall to clear up (again with LadyofAstolat's help). It was generally pretty tidy, considering the rush we went off in: the dinner had all been cleared up (thank you, wenches), and people had left the hall quite tidy (thank you, hungover louts). So back home, and a day off on Monday.

I found out afterwards that the County Press had run an article on the Friday setting out our itinerary, which was nice of them. I was called up on the following Tuesday by a reporter wanting more details for an article which went up on the website on Wednesday, under the headline "Morris meets the toddling minors", and in the paper on the Friday under the rather less naff line "Young morris dancers with more energy than sense". This was using a bit of the conversation I'd had with the reporter, which also made it to the front page as "quote of the week".

Comments

[louis-soul.livejournal.com]

wow. That really sounds like a great,fun chaos. I'll really have to see those things somtime,the Morris dancing and all.
I'm glad your friend didn't get run over or anything whith his bed in the road.

[alpha-hannah.livejournal.com]

I didn't know you had an LJ!

As such I am adding you.

~Hannah

[king-pellinor.livejournal.com]

Nor I you :-)

Cheers,

Pell. R.