Upton Folk Festival, Sunday: broken bones, processions and further assorted excitements

We got up on Sunday (as opposed to crawling out of bed) well rested and refreshed. We made our way to the clubhouse for a shower and breakfast. I had my third Full English of the festival and once it was consumed, Greg and I set back off to the tent. As we were walking along the ancient fortifications surrounding the pitches and club house, I noticed somebody at the bottom of the earthworks, sitting down, right foot elevated and being attended to by a paramedic. I had one of those moments: he looks familiar; he looks like Mark; he is Mark. Seeing that Brent was stood with him just cemented the deal.

Greg and I made our way down to him to ask what was up. We said hello to Mark and Brent and Brent immediately apprised us of the situation. Mark had a broken leg and was not going to be in a fit state to walk or drive, so we were going to have to pack up his things, arrange for his car to be returned home and also for him to be taken home too. We went back to the corral to get all this in motion. Most of the Crows were aware of what had happened and the update galvanised them into action. We managed to locate Mark’s car key quite easily (he had told us where to look) and his tent was down and packed away in record time and everything else loaded into the car.

We then needed a volunteer to drive his car back to his home, although the idea was mooted that we try his breakdown provider. This was duly checked and (eventually) they confirmed they could do it in the next 10 days. This was not going to be quick enough so we did a quick canvas of all the drivers there and one of our number, Katie, volunteered.

Once we had done everything we could, we went to line up for the procession, which started at 12pm. We were quite near the back, so we didn’t start processing until about 12.30. We did our normal thing: running into the crowd and scaring people (preferably children) and, where there were no people, scaring cars or lampposts or litter bins (but not dogs), with Charlotte out front waving our flag. I tried to scare a photographer and only managed to make my way into a rather nifty photograph of the procession.

Upton upon Severn Procession. Photo courtesy of Megan Jane Thomas

The procession ended rather conveniently outside the Plough and once everybody had processed and then dispersed, we went into the pub for a beer. All this processing can be thirsty work. We did a couple of dances outside the Plough and then we all dispersed for lunch with the agreement that we would all reassemble at the Star for our second stage spot at 2.15.

Hobos Morris were performing when we arrived after lunch and after them would be another act and then us. I had chosen White Ladies and Crows Nest for this spot and I got the dancers lined up beforehand so everybody would know where they would be. I then wandered off to talk to some of the members of Plum Jerkum, whom I had spotted just before. I should actually come clean here. I had discovered less than a week previously that Plum Jerkum was the mysterious Morris side I had seen in Ludlow in 2006 or thereabouts that had eventually led to me becoming a Border Morris dancer. I really felt the need to let them know about their service (or is it disservice?) to the Morris. While I was bending their ears, I managed to persuade one of their number to do a badge swap. It is now sitting very proudly right at the front of my hat and there is no way at all that it is moving from there.

Anyway, back to the dancing and we did White Ladies first. The dance went well but the highlight for me was Charlotte, our flag bearer of the procession, running through the set quite unexpectedly. It worked and I have been campaigning tirelessly ever since to have her officially named as the Fool of the side. Crows Nest did not go as well as White Ladies, in fact it went completely wrong during Crooked House Hey but it went wrong spectacularly and with consummate style and panache and, although I somehow swapped places with Keith in the set (I still cannot work out how), we made it to the end and finished with style.

After us were Wreckers Morris of Tamar Valley. They announced their second dance as one they had learned from us, Woodhouse Bog. Graham, our chief melodeon player, went to join the band and, in anticipation of the big finish that we have for the dance, I made my way over with a tambourine, ready to join in with gusto at the end. It was a truly wonderful collaboration and I was suitably impressed with the twist they gave the dance. We finish with two of the smaller members of the team battling it out like titans; they finish with the biggest and burliest members. It was a big finish and I bruised my hand bashing the tambourine as hard as I could at the end.

Wreckers Morris of Tamar Valley’s band. Graham just out of shot.

After that we went back to the Plough and joined Carreg Las, who were already dancing outside. They also dance Much Wenlock and we decided it would be nice to get a mixed set up for the dance and have a mixed band. The dance duly went ahead and was very successful and I had a chat with some of them to see if there were any other dances we have in common. There is one other, Tinners, so we decided to mix that up too. Carreg Las dance a different and longer version of Tinners so we divided the dancers up: two of them into sets with Crows to dance the Crows version and me in a set with two of them to dance their version. They did a quick talk through and then it started. I did rather better than we had done with Crows Nest and I don’t think I put a foot wrong. It’s nice having to think on the hoof from time to time.

We returned to the campsite after some more dancing and I got out of kit and into civvies and removed my make-up. Wild Thyme Morris were doing a border workshop and, as it was Wild Thyme that had got Anthony into Morris, he couldn’t resist going along. Greg and I decided to go as well because it would be fun. I wanted to pose as a non-Morris dancer but Greg decided to wear his hat, completely blowing our cover. We learnt some simple Border dances and also Cuckoos Nest and Tinners and I got to wear some pink tatters.

After getting tea from the chip shop (including for me a battered sausage, fnaar fnaar) it was back to the Swan en masse for more drinking and a session. Brent sang The Rawtenstall Annual Fair, a perennial favourite with the Crows and Charlotte was keen to sing but, as she doesn’t know any of the songs our musicians can play and they don’t know any of the songs she knows, she had to improvise and make words up, which she did to comical effect. I was asked to sing the Nutting Girl so I did and managed to remember the words this time. Sitting at a nearby table was Clocs Canton and their concertina player had been joining in the session. As I was singing, he walked over to where we were sat and at the end of the song, he played the Nutting Girl Jig. It was just like on Morris On!

After more drinking and more music, I sang again, this time Last Day at T’Mill (or as I prefer to pronounce it, Last Day at the Mill), a lovely song I’ve learnt from Great Grandson of Morris On (no wonder Ashley Hutchings is my hero). It seemed to be appreciated, which always comes as a surprise to me. There was more beer and more music and then the pub closed, so we went back to the club house for the late night session. I was by this time very tired indeed and sulked and only drank water until Greg relented and we went back to the tent. It meant we were not invited into the showers for the session (Stuart and Anthony were) but did mean I got more than 3 hours sleep so I would be in a fit state for Monday.