Middlewich Folk and Boat Festival, Saturday

I went to the Middlewich Folk and Boat Festival on Saturday 16 June 2007. Some of the team had gone down on the Friday and bagsied a decent pitch. I went down early on Saturday morning and got there quite early because, to be frank, I had been pretty excited and was too hyper to sleep or wait around. I arrived at about 8.45 after a brief detour via Tesco to get some toothpaste because we didn't have any spare at home. I rang my contact, Carol and her husband John answered the phone and said he'd come and find me. I didn't want to drive my car across the field because it looked so muddy at the entrance and my car is only small and it doesn't even have any wellington boots. I was terrified it would get stuck.

I'm going to have to keep this brief so:

1) I drove up to the tents and the car did not get stuck.
2) John and Ann of Stone the Crows put up my borrowed tent with a little help from me.
3) I got changed and blacked up ready for the procession and got my photo taken with Lizzie. Here it is:

The batteries in my camera then gave up the ghost so I didn't get to take any more photos until Sunday. We walked down to Somerfield for the procession and we discovered that we were to bring up the rear. It was a bit stop and start but I loved dancing in it. You get the chance to rush at the crowd and scare children. Well, that's what Border Morris is all about isn't it? During a couple of the stops, we danced a short Tinners Rabbit, which allowed the teams in front to move on a bit and give us room to go back to our procession dance. At the end, we danced through an honour guard of other teams, which was a wonderful experience and made me feel like John Terry when Chelsea won the Premiership in 2006.

After that, we went to the bullring for our first dance. It was one of my favourites, Ragged Crow. What am I on about? I don't have a favourite dance - I love them all equally. I do like Ragged Crow though, because it looks so good. I sat on the sidelines and watched because I didn't know it... yet! Other teams were dancing on the bullring too so we got plenty of rest between dances. Now, I'm not absolutely sure but I think we danced White Ladies next and I know I danced. At the end of the "show", Murray persuaded some other teams to join in a massed Tinners Rabbit. With all the dancers and all the musicians together, it was a wonderful sight and sound and somebody has put a video on YouTube which features it. Not sure about the music though but here it is:



Then I went off with a couple of young Crows, Rachel and Lizzie and a Crow's daughter (sorry, I don't remember your name!) to look round the festival and get some food. I was told off by a man who had a birds of prey stall because of my hat. Evidently, the birds would have got excited by the sight of the feathers in it. I took it off shamefacedly. I bought some souvenirs for friends and family from some of the stalls - a couple of friendship bracelets for my daughters and a fridge magnet for Sammy the Shark.

We then got some dinner - I got a sausage barm which tasted fine, amazingly - and then we went onto the next pitch, the Boars Head pub. Unfortunately, it had just started to rain, so we did what any sensible Morris side would do and went in. There are a number of rooms in the Boars head and all contained dancers and musicians. We went in a room containing a pool table and I witnessed possibly the longest game of pool I have ever seen.

Now, I don't like to cast aspersions on my fellow Morris dancers and I do not pretend to be a good pool player but I can hit the white. This was the most amazing display of pool playing I have ever seen! It was "two shots!" all round as the white failed to connect with a colour or the white went in the pocket. The only thing not done was to pot the black before time. I took two goes (it was a team effort in every sense of both words) and the first time, I actually managed to pot two balls and of the right colour. I did say I'm not a good pool player. The last shot was down the table and I missed the pocket (but not the ball). I blamed it on not wearing my glasses. This was a deception because I am long sighted.

Anyway, one team won, the rained cleared up and we went out to dance. It was Ragged Crow again and this time I learned the dance. Ragged Crow is danced in sets of four. Usually 2 sets but 3 other Crows made up a third set with me and took me through the dance. We did another dance (I really should have taken notes because I've forgotten everything) and then another Tinners.

After that, more mooching around until we were to dance at the Festival Ground. At the Festival Ground, I danced Ragged Crow properly for the first time. It was great!

The rest of Saturday is a bit of a blur really. I had a couple of beers from the beer tent and I bought a leather Morris Dancer badge from the clog maker. I also went to look at didgeridoos with Brent and Fiona and I had a look at some other weird and wonderful musical instruments. Later I went to look at rings with Lizzie and I got myself a ring for my little finger (so I now wear 8).

We went back to the campsite at the end of the day and Brent and the lovely Fiona went to get a curry (I still owe them a fiver for mine). I was getting colder and colder and I was beginning to feel sick and I was really tired (I had done loads of dances during the day - I'm really not used to the exercise). Somebody noticed that something was wrong - especially when I didn't eat my curry - and took action. I was put in John and Gill's motorhome and wrapped up in blankets and a quilt. John put on the heater and people kept looking in and asking if I was okay. I think my embarrassment slightly outweighed the cold and tiredness.

Eventually, most of the Crows went off to the evening shows and ceilidhs and Ann brought me a hot chocolate. I was really tired and once I felt properly warm again, I ventured out to the campsite toilets, returned Ann's cup to her and went to bed. I did not get cold again but I didn't sleep too well either but what the heck! This was the first time I'd camped in 24 years so what did I expect?

To be continued...

Tight Jeans, Romance and Sid Vicious

This is a picture of me at 17. I've recently bought a scanner which will scan slides (or transparencies) and this picture is from a slide. It was taken with a Praktica LTL 3 or perhaps a Praktica MTL3 single lens reflex camera. My Dad gave me his old camera, the LTL3 when I was 16 or thereabouts. It got stolen when our house was burgled and my Dad very kindly replaced it with an MTL3. I took loads of pictures with those two cameras and because my Dad swore by the quality of transparencies, I used transparency film. So I now have a fair few pictures from that era and later that I took. Some of the slides went missing because my two daughters were unable to treat my property with respect when they were younger but I still have a fair few left.

Anyway, back to the picture. I can't get over how skinny I look in the picture. I'm very slim now - I inherited my Dad's metabolism amongst other things - but not as skinny as that. I have a little more meat on me now but not much more.

Finally, look at those jeans. They have very special memories for me. I was wearing them when I saw Splodgenessabounds at The Star in Croydon. That was the night when Dave, the guitarist of The Straps, grabbed my leg and jumped higher than I did. I'd taken those jeans off minutes earlier because I was so hot and he'd grabbed bare flesh. Earlier in the evening Steve Slack, the then bassist of the UK Subs, signed those same jeans. I had a moment when I thought I'd never wash them again but eventually hygiene prevailed and his signature was washed off. What a shame. It is also a shame that for years afterwards I remembered him as Paul Slack. I really don't know why!

Those jeans were hand-me-downs from a friend of my big sister. They were Wranglers and were nice narrow leg jeans. I wore them for a short while and then when I was 15, I decided that they needed punking up and I took them in. I put zips at the bottom of the legs (I was very handy with a sewing machine back then) so I could get them on and off and Lo! A pair of punk jeans were born.

I took them to France with me on a camping trip when I was 15. During the summer holiday that year, my Mum asked me if I fancied going to France on holiday. Mum was a probation officer and one of her colleagues had a daughter about 18 months younger than me. We had met previously, I knew her Dad quite well already as Mum used to take us to work with her in school holidays and I sort of knew her too. Her friend was supposed to go but had come down with chicken pox and I was asked to stand in at short notice. I did and off we all went including those jeans and my pride and joy at that point, my 7" vinyl single of "My Way" by Sid Vicious.

The first half of the holiday we spent at a place on the Atlantic Coast called St Brevin les Pins. I remember remarkably little about those 10 days except eating pistachio ice cream for the first time in my life and finding it strangely delicious and being stung by an ant - ouch!

We then went to Paris. We drove all day and got to Paris late in the evening. I am going to give the protagonists of this story some pseudonyms now to make it easier for me to write this blog. Mum's colleague will be Peter, his wife will be Ann and their daughter will be Kate from now on. Well, Peter and Ann decided to have a kip in the car and Kate and I went for an explore. I don't know to this day where we went but we ended up in a bar. I'm not sure if we bought a drink. We were very young - I was 15 and Kate was 13 - so I doubt we would have been served. I'm pretty sure we spoke to somebody but again my memory might be playing tricks. My French was poor and Kate's was practically non-existent. We eventually went back to the car and we must have slept.

The next day we went to the camp-site in the Bois de Boulogne and set up the tents. Peter and Ann were in a big tent with a couple of rooms. Kate and I shared a two man ridge tent. We had inflatable mattresses to sleep on and sleeping bags to sleep in. Kate and I went off to explore Paris.

One day I decided I wanted to see the Bastille. I know now that the Bastille was pulled down during the French Revolution but at the time I didn't know that at all. I worked out that we had to go to La Place de la Concorde and off we went on the Metro. We got there and to my bitter disappointment there was no Bastille.

Another time we went to look at Notre Dame. It was in front of Notre Dame Cathedral that I fell in love for the first time (ahhhh - vomit!) Actually, I expect I fell in love a little after that but I fancied him at first sight. He was gorgeous. I'm really racking my brains now because I don't remember what he looked like and I've lost the only photo I ever had of him. He had dark wavy hair and was wearing red jeans, a navy blue polo shirt and a green jacket. I really fancied him and he was sat with another man. I will name these two; they were called Amer and Dino. I fancied Dino and fortunately Kate fancied Amer. So we sat down next to them and Dino and I talked in broken French and I don't have a clue what Kate and Amer did because Kate could not speak French and Amer didn't speak English.

It turned out that Dino was from Algeria and he was at college in France. He was learning French and so was I. He was better at it than me. Dino was half Italian and I can tell you that an Italian/Arab combination makes for the most amazing good looks! He was stunning and he seemed to quite like me too. I couldn't believe my luck. I told him I was 18: he was 21 and I didn't think he'd be interested in a kid of 15. He believed me, bless him!

The four of us hung around together for the remaining days we had in Paris. I have happy memories of Le Jardin de Luxembourg, travelling on the Metro with them without paying the fares (we ran out of money fairly early on in the proceedings) and going to Dino or Amer's room in their digs. They sneaked us in risking the wrath of the concierge. Their intentions were not honourable but then again, neither were ours. I won't go into detail here but will only say Dino and I didn't "make it".

As the date for our departure grew near, Dino asked me to marry him. I then told him I was only 15 and I couldn't. I was distraught but to his credit he was upset too. I said I'd come and join him in Algeria when I was 18. On the day of our departure, I stayed with Dino for as long as could, no doubt crying my eyes out and eventually we left to catch the ferry back. I hadn't eaten at all that day and I was seasick on the crossing back to England.

We wrote to each other. I sent him four letters. He replied to three. In his last letter he asked me about colleges for "strangers students" in England. I laughed at that. He didn't reply to my fourth letter. I seem to remember asking him what colour pants he was wearing in my last letter. I was just a kid really.

Finally, here is a video of Sid singing My Way. It reminds me of my very own, personal Summer of Love.