The Morris Men of Little Egypt

A Bloodless Crusade


Little Egypt:

Thursday Morning
Thursday Lunch
Thursday evening
Friday Morning
Friday Lunch
Friday Evening
Saturday Morning
Saturday Lunch
Saturday Afternoon
Saturday Evening
Sunday Morning
Sunday Lunch

The Squire

Where we went

Morris Index

Si debes, escriu sus l'acič; Si on te deu, escriu sul sable.
What is owed to you, write in steel. What you owe, write in sand.

Thursday evening took us to the tiny hillside village of Alaigne.
Here, in a settlement believed to have been designed to a circular defensive pattern (circulade), we danced outside the typically French bar-restaurant owned and run by a gentleman by the name of Evans.
He is Welsh.
He keeps a cricket bat behind the bar.
And he organised a barbecue for us.

Nearly Ready    Off we go 
We began to dance in the early evening sunlight, under typically French plane trees, surrounded by an interested crowd of onlookers.
They don't seem to understand    But I think they like us 
Mr Evans certainly had his publicity machine working. He admitted later that far more turned up to watch than he ever expected.
Some of the younger spectators were inspired to imitate some of the complex steps and sticking patterns.
Sweet Jenny Jones    Precision 
Given that this was our first "kit" dance in France, it was to be expected that the dancing was performed with relish and vim.
And so it was.
Mind the road son    L'art pour l'art 
Rarely have the handkerchiefs in "Guillaume de Banbury" travelled so far from their owners.
And the local fun-size stand-off half simply couldn't keep up with Geoff's sidestep.
They should be    Wha-a-a-a-t? 
Tommo spent part of the weekend pretending to be an abandoned wreck (but we were too kind to point out out how close this was to the truth).

Meanwhile Neville's attempts to employ an interpreter met with limited success, as, surprisingly, she seemed not to know the French for "galley up".
Now! Show me how it's done    Quelle spectacle! 
Alaigne's resident Irishman - a fellow of infinite charm and wit - insisted on trying to master the hanky movements, but was unable to master fully the concept of maintaining a straight elbow in the short time he had for tuition.

But between bouts, he was also kind enough to tell us that we were the best thing to have "happened" in the village for a very long time.
W-h-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-t!    Getting towards night 
The interpreter returned for another go, but stumbled this time on the translation of "Adderbury Hey".
As the light faded, the barbecue was finally ready.
Do they never sleep?    And the moon rose over the tower 
Eventually, we migrated inside the bar, wherein there was more beer and wine, but also some excellent singing, from Wales and Ireland as well as England.
The high, and appropriately final, point for the evening was a wonderful performance by a member of the local choir, singing a local traditional song.
We didn't need to understand the words to appreciate the quality and emotion of it.

And so to bed.
Friday was to be another day.

Page maintained by Stephen Clarke, Copyright(c) 2006. Created: 08/06/2006