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Confessions of a |
Now a report by a think tank, The Future Foundation, says the morris is no longer seen as the quintessence of English traditional heritage. We're ranked just below The Rolling Stones in popularity. And the think tankers say that morris won't even feature in 50 years' time. I doubt it. The morris has come through worse than this over the past few hundred years.
In Oxfordshire and surrounds, we wave hankies and clash sticks, the way folk always have round here. In my own village of Adderbury, we can tell you the names of men who were dancing on our green more than 100 years ago. Nowadays there are two rival sides in the village, fiercely divided on the way morris should be done but united in the passion of the dance. Over at Bampton, in the west of the county, they've been dancing every Whitsun for more than 200 years. They start at dawn and dance on pubs forecourts, in private gardens and at the old folks' home.
There's lots of bad morris, but the good stuff has guts. The sap rises and the adrenaline surges. The legendary Hammersmith Morris Men used to be followed around London by cohorts of adoring young women - so they claim. Nowadays, the women are more likely to be dancing themselves. And we'reambassadors - and innovators - for England. My own side, The Outside Capering Crew, has just gone down a storm in Dubai. We shared a hotel with Shaggy, the rap star, but it was our hobby horses that turned heads in the lobby. We slap faces, pull hair and rub bottoms and leapfrog over up-ended brooms. It's not traditional, but it's still morris. Which just goes to show: times change, but the morris endures, always evolving. |
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