One of the great things about being part of the Morris Men of Little Egypt is the passion we share for inventing traditions.
It is traditional that we dance the May Day dawn
It is traditional that we dance at the Black Lion on Boxing Day.
It is traditional that straight lines aren't.
It is traditional that Tommo threatens to resign.
And it is traditional that we have a day out in Southwold.
And so it was on Saturday 20 July 2002 that our luxury cruise liner of a coach glided out of Glemsford in air-conditioned splendour, headed for the east coast, and Suffolk's answer to Copacabana.
OR: our converted delivery van spluttered down Skates Hill with the windows open, heading for Southwold.
Forgetting all thoughts of cynicism or irony, it was to be a grand day, as this photo tableau should reveal.
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As ever, we began our day at the Sole Bay Inn, with a full orchestra, including Mark all the way from Dorset,
Eddie all the way from Beccles and Pip - all the way from Durham.
Neville, as ever, looked on benignly, while some benighted fool tried to get in very picture bashing a bodhran.
Thence , our traditional route took us to the Red Lion, where there was a goodly crowd (which mysteriously kept growing) to witness some really quite good dancing - witness, the straight lines.
Lunch was taken at theHarbour Inn, where the fish 'n' chips were excellent. It was obvious for some time beforehand that there were those of us who hadn't had enough enough breakfast and were ready for their trough.
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Then it was back to the market square where some more excellent dancing culminated in a positively ecstatic rendition of Fanny Frail, with full audience participation.
After that we joined in some strange re-opening shenanigans at the end of Southwold's newly-refurbished pier.
This obviously proved all too much for some members who could only dream of a hot cup of cocoa and next week's pension queue.
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Others, however, had other fish to fry.
A long-standing, and bitterly felt, challenge as to who was the real master of the Pinball Machine led to a life and death duel in the amusement arcade. Corby won. Nev was too gutted to have his photo taken at this time.
And so to the evening's entertainment.
2002 has been celebrated as our 10th Anniversary.
It was in the style that we have come to expect of our Squire that the evening "do" in one of the new pier pavilions took us all by surprise.
A superb buffet preceded some excellent homespun entertainment.
Above all, however, the evening will be remembered for the
Initiation of Crawford.
Despite his boyish looks, Crawford is a mean dancer.
But he had to prove his point. So, as the evening sun set over the bijou villas that are a modern Southwold, he was deprived of his dancing whites and made to dance a jig like that which was never seen before, as, to the intoned chant of ancient Latin texts, his trousers were ceremonially lowered towards the all-embracing waves of the North Sea. Only a perfect jig could save them from a watery grave.
Did he succeed?
Suffice to say that they did get a little damp around the turn ups.
All good things must come to an end.
And so it was, after an excellent celebration, with our Day in Southwold, 2002.
As some of these photos show, some of us were very weary as we wended our wistful way westwards into the last rays of the setting sun.
For others, of course, the night time is the right time to waken and LIVE A LITTLE ...
Page maintained by Stephen Clarke, email@example.com 09 November 2005 Copyright(c) . Created: 27/08/2002 Updated: 27/08/2002