Upton Folk Festival 2014, Saturday: hangovers, dog bites, illness and washboards

When I had managed to extricate myself from my bed on Saturday and after a coffee provided by our kindly drummer, Anne, I went with Greg to the club house for a Full English breakfast. This was the first time I had ever tried to combat a hangover with a Full English and I am happy to announce that the score at full time was Hangover 0-1 Full English. I will probably revert to the camomile tea hangover cure now but it was a happy experiment for me.

We then went back to our corral and had our first official meeting of the festival. There Greg exhorted the team to go out there, show them what we’re made of (in my case about 60% beer) and enjoy ourselves. Those not already in kit got into kit and then we made our way into Upton but on our way, we were waylaid by some swings: to be precise Richard and I were. Actually, this was not the first time Crows had been on the playground: Greg had gone head first down the slide very drunkenly the previous evening when we were making our way to the clubhouse but I digress.

Our stage spot was at 11.00am and we were there in plenty of time, so we went to dance outside The Plough first and in true Crows’ tradition, we started off with a Ragged Crow. At the end of the dance the dancers rushed out into the crowd like we do and disaster struck! One of our dancers, Carol, was bitten by a dog. It broke the skin and there was much consternation, as she was not up to date with her tetanus jabs. She went off to a chemist with Jo to get dressings and advice. I was concerned because I had lost two of our dancers in one fell swoop and another already had a doctor’s note, although she was okay with the idea of doing one or two of the less strenuous dances.

After another couple of dances, the walking wounded returned and she was happy to continue dancing. It was, by now, time to go to the stage, which was a large space outside The Star Inn. I had already earmarked the dances for this spot and fortunately, even with bronchitis and dog bites, we did not need to change them. We started with another Ragged Crow and this time I did dance and at the end we all rushed into the crowd and nobody got bitten. I rushed at some Alvechurch Morris men, whom I had spotted before, started chatting and then remembered I had two more dances to do. I made my way back and got into the set for the next dance, the Upton upon Severn Stick Dance (to give it its Sunday name) and that went very well and then we finished the set with our version of The Iron Men’s Ashford, which we have changed ever so slightly and renamed Ashpole.

Ashpole from the ground in Chorley (nobody in Upton was brave enough to attempt a comparable shot)

All the dances went well and I don’t think anybody put a foot wrong, so we were flushed with our success and the announcement that Stone the Crows were in the lead for inventive and amusing introductions (Greg had said something about us being the biggest and best Border Morris side in Lancashire. Oh and the only Border Morris side in Lancashire) only added to the gloss.

After that, Greg announced to the side that it was lunch time and told us to meet in a predetermined place at a predetermined time (no, I don’t remember where or when, now) and then he, Mark and I all went in search of lunch. We found it in a café called The Secret Mess. We then returned to the predetermined place at the predetermined time (it might have been The Plough). I decided that because we were at Upton, we ought to do the Upton upon Severn Hanky dance. There was a slight hitch, though. There were six crows there who could dance it but one of them had a doctor’s note and I had already agreed not to make her dance anything too strenuous and if Upton Hanky is anything, it’s too strenuous. However, I was not to be daunted, so we decided to get Stuart, one of our melodeon players and one of the most adaptable dancers I know (i.e. he can wing anything) and put him in the set. I’m not overly cruel, so I agreed to do a walk through out of sight. Unfortunately, I only managed half a walk through before Greg was frantically calling us back because it was our turn, so Stuart was thrown in at the deep end with only one armband. I needn’t have bothered with the armband, he was brilliant and we actually looked like we knew what we were doing.

After that and after a couple more dances, I decided to do an Upton Stick. This is one of the dances known by most of the dancers and it is an ideal opportunity to get some of our more inexperienced dancers up. What had barely touched my consciousness, though, was that just down the road from us (and in earshot) Alvechurch Morris were doing exactly the same dance. I think I may have committed worse faux pas but it would be pushing it. However, their musicians seemed to take it well and even suggested a mass Upton Stick but it wasn’t to be, so instead we borrowed their washboard man for Black Widow. He didn’t have to dance it, he just had to join in on his washboard. Which he did and very good it was too. I would have liked to have kidnapped him and kept him for the full weekend but the rest of the Crows wouldn’t let me, so he was allowed to rejoin his side.

We then went in search of another dance spot and ended up just down the road from the Swan and just up from Pete Grassby’s (of the Aardvark Ceilidh Band fame) Melodeon Repair centre and music stall, where Stony Steppers were already dancing. I would have liked to stood and watched Stony Steppers because they are very good but I had to organise our dances. It was a narrow space and we needed dances that would not take up too much room, so Ashpole, Crows Nest and Mr Ben were right out. Instead we did a Black Widow amongst others and, after a few more dances (turn and turn about with Stony Steppers) we decided we were too hot and bothered and retired to the pub for a well earned beer.

Stony Steppers. Photo courtesy of Stony Steppers.

I wasn’t the first to the bar by a long way and I asked Graham, our chief melodeon player, who coincidentally has very similar taste in beer to me, what he was drinking. It transpired he was drinking Hereford Pale Ale, a tipple I had last had in Shrewsbury, and remembering it was good, I went forthwith to the bar and ordered a half pint. It was as good as I remembered and I was soon back there and ordering another.

We may have done some more dancing or we may have not: it’s all a bit hazy now but we did eventually go back to the campsite. One of our dancers had mysteriously disappeared during the day and it turned out she was another casualty. She had developed some worrying symptoms, so her husband had taken her to A & E. They came back to the campsite later on (I think I was in bed by then) and we found out the next morning she had a kidney infection. She was returned to us with strong anti-biotics and pain killers but unfortunately, would not get another dance.

Before then, Greg, Mark and I all went for a Chinese, while Anthony went for some chips. There was also a party of Crows who had gone for an Indian but as Greg’s stomach had been complaining all day after having been drowned in beer the previous evening, he decided not to risk it. He, Mark and I therefore returned to the campsite with Anthony and consumed our meals. I think Mark was tired because he dropped off after he had finished his Chinese, quite a feat really in a camping chair.

Greg and I decided we would not go to the pub and instead went to bed at a sensible hour. There would, after all, be plenty of time for the pub on Sunday…