The majestic Danish coastline has many seal colonies where the mammals lay with their blubber rippling, side by side, whilst snorting loudly; not really much different than the early morning scene in the gym. "Gymnasium", the place where people exercise with no clothes, was well named. Soon a naked army of men with big bellies and small willies was milling around with washbags, like nudist Sumo Wrestlers at a Mr.Blobby convention. Conversation consisted mainly of boasts about the night before. A typical line was "I was chatting up this gorgeous blonde in the pub. She was giving me the eye. I was in there, but her boyfriend turned up." Dream on. Other boasts were about alcohol input and vomit output.

Our walking/dancing tour of Silkeborg included Boar's Head and Silurian. Throughout the weekend groups were followed by their Silkeborg minders, always on their portable phones to their HQ. Half our team slipped away in the rain and spent the morning entertaining ourselves with drink and dance in a number of pubs. All teams met at the Rowing Club, and after a hearty meal and further ale we boarded the two boats "Hjejlen" and "Tranen" for Hotel Ludwigslyst, across the water. Richard, recovering from his fear of flying, now announced that he was scared of sailing. The team tried to comfort him by all standing on one side of the boat then all running to the other side, repeatedly. Reports of icebergs were not well received. He curled up in a foetal position. With his eyes closed he sucked his thumb, and rocked to and fro whilst humming the songs from "My Fair Lady".

The afternoon was danced on rough turf. The Cotswold was predictable; dancing was very similar to that danced last year. Eventually, the teams filed back to the boats, stopping briefly in the bushes. During the return trip, Silurian threw Ilmington's hobby horse into the waters, "accidentally". Admitttedly, we all thought it would have floated.

Tonight is the big event - the Ring Feast, possibly the most archaic and pretentious event in the Morris Calendar; but I'm hungry, so I'm going.

Not content at holding Morris in a jar of formulin, some people must invent and maintain new traditions, to add to the quasi-psuedo-Disney-Olden-Days culture of Morris. Innocent routine tasks become "traditions", which then have to be pointed out as such. My family eat food and watch television, which is a tradition, you know. Ring Feasts are full of this stuff.

The Squire of the Ring, Tim Sercombe, started by lighting the Candle of Friendship, which is a tradition, you know. Various statistics were wheeled out to emphasise the tradition of the event, including that it was the 3rd/4th (there was some doubt) overseas (non-UK) Ring Meeting, which was number 288, or near about. 288. Now that is impressive. There were speeches by the local vicar and a couple of council officials.

Then there was a song. As a non-folky, these events always leave me slightly embarrassed. I would never assume that a room full of men of mixed backgrounds would have the same minority interests as me, so would not impose on them. I'm sure that if I gave a brief talk on changes in EEC legislation on eye-safety in Sheep Dips, or the manufacturing problems of Babbage's Difference Engine, it would give my Morris colleagues as much enjoyment as a finger-in-the-ear job gives me. And why is it always Folk Music? If it was that popular, why is it not in the Popular Music Charts? If you want to hit the spot, statistically, with the audience, choose the number one in the popular music charts. Currently, in the UK, it is a charming rap number by the Spice Girls. I'm sure that if a couple of blokes got up and did that, it would have been infinitely more entertaining. Songs punctuated the feast, with only a rendition of "My Old Man's A Dustman", that great Lonnie Donegan classic, relieving the monotony.

The Menu was as follows :-

Burns's Selkirk Grace was given :

"Some hae meat, and canna eat,

and some wad eat as want it

but we hae meat and we can eat,

and sae the Lord be thank it"

A bit strange for Danes to say a Scottish grace to a Danish/Dutch/English audience. There were no Scottish teams present like the splendid Banchory Morris Men. Did I ever tell you that two of the start-up teams I was involved in, Tarves Morris Men and Buchan Morris, were the northern-most teams in Britain? Perhaps not. Back to the plot.....

The speeches were most forgetable, although Silurian partly made amends by awarding Ilmington's Hobby Horse a swimming medal, postumously.

The loyal toast was ambiguous and difficult. The monarchs of Denmark, Holland and UK were included in one toast. As everyone may have great respect for those of Denmark and Holland, the UK monarchy is at an all-time low with its disloyal subjects.

The silent toast to Cecil Sharp. Hmmm... I really have difficulty with this. As great a guy as he was, I really don't believe that he had the exclusive rights to Morris. In an all-bloke gathering, I am deeply suspicious of a toast that celebrates just one dead bloke. No-one contemporary such as Roy Dommett, no-one as female as Mary Neal, Janet Blount, Maud Karpeles or Lois Blake. I'm sure that the silent element should refer to them. I like to think that the two times I've been to a Ring Feast, I've bitten my tongue not to make a scene and embarrass the team that has allowed me to attach myself to, by standing up and toasting many of the others that have contributed to this movement, but realistically I have just not had the balls for it.

The remainder was spent dancing in and outside of the hall in the humid evening. That night, the seal colony was a little quieter, though the flatulence seemed to have increased.

Tomorrow, the Procession to Church

Introduction