With the fridge still containing an uncooked turkey, though we polished off the Xmas booze in November, H and I sat by the log fire (we are still waiting for the electricity to come back on) counting the days to our first dance out of the year, the only light in our sad existence.
The last couple of weeks have been coloured with the brush of gales, floods, power cuts, closed roads and flying sheep. Today is no exception. In fact, today is a special day. There are Red Flood Warnings throughout Wales. Red being an appropriate colour as the Welsh national colour of the Dragon of Cadwalader. Also Wales claims to have provided the colour scheme to the original Red Flag. As you probably know, our Dragon was considered a socialist dragon, being distinguished from the Chinese Imperial Dragon by two less toes on each foot. This, perhaps, would be a good time to say "but I digress".
Ah, the beginning of a new dance year. The time we collect our kit from its
annual trip to the dry cleaners, and they explain why all the buttons and badges have
melted, and why they couldn't get rid of that stain down the front of your trousers, but
their laboratory said..... Never mind.
Being a big tart, I have a wardrobe of various Morris kits, in anticipation of invitations to dance. Today it is Eryri from Snowdonia, and my local team, Clerical Error. H had excused himself from this trip, as he said he was feeling unwell. In truth, he had discovered a bottle of carpet cleaner, and wished to consume it himself, in my absence. He did, however, volunteer to set up the explosives whilst I busied myself in my boudoir. So to the sound of the wind hammerring the walls of the manor, and the rain and hail rattling urgently upon the window panes, I blacked up and put on my top hat and tails. The Clericals wear black shirts and clerical dog collars. I had to improvise.
In another room there was a loud bang, later followed by the strong aroma of burning fur.
The dance spot was our annual venue of the Royal Oak, at Betws Y Coed, about thirty miles away, through the hills. The choice of route was difficult. To traverse the Conwy valley was to risk being trapped by the swollen river. To cross the Dinbich moors would mean being exposed to the high winds, some gusts in excess of 170kph.
The moors it was. You don't know the meaning of the word "bleak" until you have crossed this terrain. Today, some of it was in cloud. High speed cloud. You know that James Bond film where he tilts his car and travels on two wheels? Now I know how it was done. It was so difficult to keep the car on the road, but at least there would be shelter in the valley at the other end.
The flooded valley at the other end. Where sad canoe enthusiasts flocked to ride the white waters of the local rivers, and in some cases, roads. Fortunately, all fallen trees had been cleared, or just floated away.
Arriving at the pub, I could see, through the torrential rain, many members of both teams kitting up. In such a rainy area, being blacked up with water-based makeup has its disadvantages. The adequate dancing area in front of the pub was a permanent puddle about 20mm deep. All dances today will be performed in this. Today is Eryri's "Day of Border", their one day where they allow content to prejudice form. They abandoned their Cotswold kit, and were wearing Rag Coats. They were "Redded Up".
Eryri are currently planning the team's long-term future. They seemed to have more babies than dancers.
We then danced for about two hours in the unrelenting rain, and unrelenting puddle.
Eryri started with Pershore Stick, and the Clericals started with the whole team coming on with Not For Joe. We performed a double set for Upton Stick. Other dances included Much Wenlock, Brimfield Stick, Craven Stomp, Ragged Crow, etc.
There were two dancers within the Clericals, who were experiencing their first dance-out. I had forgotten the excitement, or should I say fear, of dancing out in public for the first time. You could see it in their eyes. Fear. Real fear. Can you remember your first time?
Perhaps the fear was not of the public dance, but that this is the time they become true members of the team, and have to undergo the initiation ceremony.
As this is a secret traditional ritual, the next paragraph will be deleted.
... and then they had to join in White Ladies Aston, like that. So after the initiation, in spite of the rain, we still had to hose the area down. The initiatees complained of skin discolouration.
We were now soaked through to the skin. Our top hats, top coats and shoes were sodden. Time for a massed dance. We had sufficient numbers to have 24 dancers for the frenetic demolition version of Bromberrow Heath Stick Dance. This passed without injury.
The final dance for Eryri was, well I don't know actually. I was in the pub getting another drink in. They refused to do Bonny Green Garters, as today they were a Border team.
Even though the Clericals had done their last dance, they dashed on for a raucous rendition of Wrekin Havoc.
The next few hours were spent in the pub, where the folk element sat at one end playing their music, and the non-folk element were at the other end watching the soccer on TV and playing pool.
Just sing-ing in the rain........
Paul Millennas
I'm not getting fat. My kit really IS shrinking.