I wrote this article for the NZ Morris Sphere following the Lammas Tour in 2013. Here I’ve revised it for a general readership. It’s interesting to note that the Morris Ring is now more inclusive than it was even nine years ago. Morris Dancing, Travel, a hot English summer… Enjoy!
The lead-up to the Lammas Tour was as star-studded and exhilarating as the Tour itself, and for me, a more relaxed experience of the Cotswold region’s Morris culture.
Within a few days of arriving in Oxford (which is not technically in the Cotswolds) Kitty and I attended our first Morris event, joining Cry Havoc for their Day of Dance. They are a mixed side from Oxford, who I had already incorporated into the Lammas Tour programme but not met in person. During the dance spot at Oxford Castle I reconnected with my old side Masons Apron, and met members of Icknield Way, Eynsham and Mr Hemmings. Meeting a real live Mr Hemmings was my first instance of wonder, and realisation that I was truly in traditional Morris dancing territory. The connection I had already made with Icknield Way by email was strengthened here, and their beautifully printed summer programme, became a guide to good Morris gigs right up till the week of the Lammas Tour. That night Cry Havoc’s Ale at the Prince of Wales pub in Shippon, was overlaid with the pleasure of having some of my English family join us.
How filled with anticipation Kitty was as we approached the village of Ducklington one June evening. Theirs is one of the Tussock Jumpers’ declared traditions, so this was a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage. We couldn’t quite believe it when we drove into the village and found a duck pond centre stage, complete with eponymous ducklings. We joined Ducklington Morris in the tiny village hall for a practice evening, barely recognising the style at all. We certainly didn’t have any advantage as Squire Chris taught everyone ‘The Orange in Bloom.’
The following evening Kitty and I joined the Oxford City Morris Men and their companion side the Oxford University Morris Men, for a pub dance out. Although few of them were around when Elwin and Mark used to dance with the side, they still have a recognisable character, and a disarming attitude to their Ring membership, which enables them to enjoy the dancing company of women. Yes, they are still a lot like Brittanic Bedlam Morris Gentlemen! Kitty uses her father’s OCMM bell pads as a matter of course, but on this night it was poignant to see her wearing them to dance with their true colours.
Midsummer, and the bunting strung through Stanton Harcourt beckoned us to the village’s Summer fete. The special treat of catching Icknield Way in their Stanton Harcourt guise on one of two annual appearances was just a little out done by the 200,000 year old local Neanderthal hand axe we were able to handle at a fairground Museum tent. We had every intention of catching up with the Abingdon Traditional Morris Dancers that afternoon at Abingdon’s Mayor of Ock Street celebrations, but a run-in with a Range Rover on a country lane put paid to that.
For a fortnight after that we didn’t see any Morris dancing as we toured the South West parts of England – although I did cut Morris sticks from a wood on Dartmoor… But returning to Oxfordshire in mid July was like delving into a Morris flavoured, chocolate box selection: all that colour, too much choice and the buzz of sensory overload as well!
At the end of our trip away and after a long day’s drive from Somerset, Kitty and I arrived at the Bell Inn in Ducklington to find the yard full of dancers. This was a Ducklington Morris–hosted pub dance-out. With guests, Oxford City Morris Men, Wolvercote Morris and Cornucupia – a group of Appalachian clog dancers, who were accompanied by a full, blue grass band. Wolvercote Morris were new to me, a mainly women’s side who needed an extra dancer that night and I fitted the bill. What a high energy night that was and when Kitty and I crawled exhausted into our bed above the courtyard, we could still hear the music going on downstairs in the bar.
For the next week or so through the middle of July, we were based in Bampton, house-sitting. I remember the heat being almost unbearable during this time and daytime outings were kept to a minimum, but those Morris pub nights were a strong drawcard at the end of the day. They were also crucial for fine-tuning my contacts and venues for The Lammas Tour. At The Greyhound at Besselsleigh, we met for the first time Armaleggen, a crazy Border side, with a hypnotic band of accordions and drums that matched the dancing set for size, and aligned themselves with it as it turned through the dance figures. Kitty was smitten with them. But not to be outdone, Icknield Way showed off their concertina band of four players, fresh from their Spanish Tour. The musicians stepped the form of the dance as an extension to the dancers’ set and were subtly impressive.
We saw Armaleggen again with Masons Apron on their home ground at Long Hanborough the following week, and by now it was becoming clear that through this summer period, Morris sides are dancing out two or three times a week and some individuals are dancing with two or three sides at a time! Hidden behind many of the Armaleggen disguises were dancers and musicians from the various Cotswold sides we had already met. Remembering how restrictive it felt to be confined to a set style and number of dancers – as Bucknell Morris was – I think that belonging to a variety of sides helps keep interest in traditions vital… and satisfies the Morris junkies amongst us. For my summer pleasure every thrilling novelty was balanced by a reverent tradition. I couldn’t quite believe my luck to see both annual appearances by the guardians of the Stanton Harcourt tradition. As well as the summer fete appearance, they host a dance-out at The Harcourt Arms, which is specifically for three traditional sides: themselves, Eynsham and Kirtlington. It seemed rather funny that Icknield Way hangers on came along in their alter ego kit, which the Squire didn’t seem too happy about. Watching Eynsham was breathtaking. I couldn’t believe that they danced ‘Feathers’ faster than Kiwis do. In complete contrast to their earthy presence, Kirtlington are exquisitely dressy and almost balletic. Both of these sides fielded children and the tiny curly-headed Oliver, still with a baby’s toddle understood the Morris step and hand movements perfectly. Apparently the Eynsham tradition specifically, is his fascination.
A couple of days before the Lammas Tour opened I somehow managed one more – no two more – dance spots in one night. I joined Wolvercote Morris and OCMM in slanting evening sunshine at The Plough on Wolvercote Green, and then raced over to Thrupp for my one and only chance to see Adderbury Morris Men along with Icknield Way and Mabel Gubbins, a Rapper side. This Adderbury side wears red and blue, and are not the group featured in the film, “Way of the Morris” but they did make me laugh. How their enjoyment shone through, how they relished every bell shake, every interaction between themselves as they danced very measured and precise steps. I had intended to fit in another pub spot with Armaleggen but I was having too much of a good time in the garden of The Boat Inn that night.
My own experience of all this was more as an observer. The Morris scene felt more open to including outsiders than it did twenty years ago, but as I was content to guard my ankles and enjoy the show, my expectations were different to what they were as a young dancer. I certainly accepted invitations to dance on most of this summer’s occasions. A surprise was finding old friends under the grey hair and face paint and top hats. Because I was focusing on the local traditional Cotswold sides, I noticed how strongly each side had developed its own character, whether it was the personality of Adderbury or that improbable floating quality that Ducklington has. In my final week in Oxford, after the Lammas Tour was over and I thought I was sated, with Morris dancing. I went along to join OCMM on their final City dance-out for the summer. The long golden evenings were over, rain threatened, but I danced my last Bonny Green of the Summer with them, before retreating into an old watering hole, to make music and talk away the night. It felt like I belonged. “Come back and dance with us again,” they said.
© Jeneane Hobby, 2022