Sod Xmas. There's no dancing on Xmas Day.
But Boxing Day, that's different. There's always dancing on Boxing Day.
H has still got his seasonal cold, and is not fit to dance. His nose is bright red and his once fine long white fur is matted with green mucus. He is feeling very sorry for himself, and wants the whole world to know it.
Today Clerical Error have been invited to cross the border and join Mersey
Morris for their annual dance in their home village of Willaston. This is usually a fine
do, where a good local audience comes to watch, and the gig is blessed with good weather.
This is not a usual year.
Most the Clericals have spent Xmas Eve, Xmas Day, and now Boxing Day, in the dark, with no electricity. Occasional dashes out to repair storm damage were done in the pouring rain in winds of up to 150kph. But then this is North Wales and Clerical Error are an all weathers team. Although many members would be away for the season in their Bahamian beach home, St. Moritz chalet or little dacha outside Moscow, there would still be about a dozen who would make it.
As Mersey were in their home village, they would have strong numbers.
On the morning, I had three cancellations, but we should still have ten. Leaving H sobbing in his bed, and hearing, yet again, how nobody cares about his condition, I set off.
The trip across the mountain was interesting. Fallen trees had been dragged to the road side. Holiday caravans were on their side. Cars were abandoned where there had been floods. The wind still howled, and the cold rain was horizontal. Into England things weren't much better. Some roads were closed, traffic lights were out and flooding was widespread. Border controls are particularly tough in this area, with constant vigilance of the smuggling of slate ornaments, and fleeces.
As I entered the now bleak English village of Willaston, I could see about thirty young people wandering around in fancy dress :- Animals, The Three Kings, Fred Flintstone and The Spice Girls. Two more Clericals turned up, and a couple of Mersey musicians. One of the musicians said "There's one of your lot in the pub". I nipped in to find a Clerical, pint in hand, sans kit. Before I could ask why he was not in kit, he said "What are you doing in kit?" "Uh?" though I. "Didn't you know we've cancelled?" Being the organiser at our end I was gob-smacked. Apparently the rumour had spread by telephone that we'd cancelled, which cut out numbers by half. A further Clerical appeared sans kit, just to watch. I went up the wall. Then along the ceiling. Then down the other wall.
So we had four Clericals with kit. One without. (The Clericals pride themselves at always dancing in full kit, with full makeup). Mersey had not fared better. Four dancers (later five, then, too late, six) and three musicians. In their home village.
Suprisingly, a large audience appeared. The same size as previous years. The rain stopped to allow the hail to commence. Straight into Three Musketeers Fieldtown. It is unfortunate that Cotswold dances are considered more universal than other dances; when you are in a Border team. This can leave Border teams in a disadvantaged position in massed dances. Today, a six man dance is a massed dance. So with four Mersey, Fred Flintstone and his plastic club, and myself we performed a splendid rendition of this dance.
"Over to you" said the Foreman of Mersey. Shit. How many in kit? Um, Ragged Crow. I can't remember how to call that. Ah, Black Pig. Bugger, we've been taught two different versions. We don't have four that know the same version. What about Twiglets? No Mersey musician knows it. So Brimfield Stick Dance it is. All musicians know Jenny Lind. So armed with three short sticks and an inflatable banana, and preceeded by a standard piece of fertility bull, the Clericals burst into a public show of shouting, yelling, whooping and dancing.
Two weeks ago we did The Vandals of Hammerwich, Lichfield being a controversial influence on the Welsh style of Morris, at Mike Salters December bash. Only last week at practice, as a Xmas treat, the Clericals covered some popular massed dances . We covered :
And on this day we danced :
Damned good planning, eh?
To make good of the numbers, Mersey swung into Lollipop Man, Ducklington, a dance that I'd love Clerical Error to adopt. A dance with such grace and beauty would be a significant contrast to their raucous style. As they started, the heavens opened and the rains fell upon them. Three Clericals leapt out, with large umbrellas in hands, turning the dance into a six man dance. Three dancers and their three pleuvial minders.
WIth a break in the weather, the landlord of the Pollards Inn brought a hot samovar of steaming punch to the crowd. Whilst this was being consumed by the grateful crowd, Monk's March was performed with the village children running through the set.
Ding Dong Merrily On High, a kind of Xmas Musketters, was performed with aplomb.
Bromsberrow Heath got both teams and audience involved, and we'd brought extra sticks for the demolition version.
Finishing with Bonny Green Garters, and a couple of explosions (not easy in the rain) the venue emptied into the pub. A couple of rounds of Cain's Bitter and a bowl of chips later, the Clericals dug a hole in the crowded pub, and performed an exciting performance of Three Jolly Black Sheepskins.
Lets hope we get another invite next year.
When two or more Morris Dancers are gathered together .......
Paul Millennas
No, you bastard. Not on the curtains!