29th May saw us at the Fox Inn, Steventon, as guests of Old Speckled Hen, along with a new Border team Borderline making their first appearance. The Fox Inn is one of the few pubs left with an outdoor Aunt Sally (a sort of coconut shy with a single wooden Aunt Sally at which sticks are skimmed) which proved too much of a temptation for some of BB. It’s all right though Tim, they found the stick a couple of weeks later in the next field.
Then 19th June saw the start of the Dorset Tour weekend, the first time for 3 years the team had managed to arrange what used to be an annual pilgrimage to Dorset. As had occasionally happened previously, the weekend was preceded by a Thursday evening at the Red Lion, Avebury, with Holt Morris – the day before the summer solstice so not too many of the druids were yet out and about. As usual a good evening’s dancing at the Red Lion was followed by a music and singing session at The Bell, West Overton, where BB held their own against a fine effort from the Holt massed choir – BB helped this year by a couple of new songs from Jameson which didn’t this time involve his father painting the parlour.
The following day it was down to Dorset for the tour proper. Most of the previous weekends have been based at the Giants Head campsite at Cerne Abbas, but Rob and Miriam had planned this weekend around a campsite near to Corfe Castle. The Friday evening involved a get together at The Greyhound in Corfe, and then following a night of fairly torrential rain (especially, we found, for those with tents under trees), Saturday morning saw us dance in Corfe Castle outside the entrance to the Castle remains and then head off to Swanage on a steam train. At Swanage we danced firstly in The Square, where some of the audience donated their unwanted chips to us at the end of the performance – well, you’ve got to take your rewards however you can, haven’t you? We then moved to the seafront for more dancing before retiring to the Red Lion for lunch and a play on the life size fibreglass pig, bought in a shop near the seafront as its the sort of thing every Berkshire garden needs – really, Bob, though you still have yet to be totally convinced. Later on, the pig accompanied us on the train back to Corfe Castle and on the trek back to the campsite, to the amusement of passers by though not to those carrying it.
At the campsite, it was time for Pimms and a barbeque, and in particular a celebration of Sue’s big birthday. Later on we headed back to the Greyhound for the evening, where despite some heavy showers we managed a couple of dance spots in the rear garden in front of a small but enthusiastic audience, before returning to the campsite for a windy night in the tents (caused by nature rather than the barbeque and beer). Next day though was bright and sunny, and Jane had arranged for us to dance at the RNLI college in Poole, a modern training facility for lifeboatmen and women right on Poole Harbour with commanding views over the estuary. We performed in a large outdoor area (with great views) to a mainly indoor audience who we couldn’t see through the tinted windows, though we found later they had enjoyed the performance. We then completed the weekend with a Sunday lunch in their splendid restaurant, during which the possibility of any further dancing became more and more hypothetical……
July brought some good evening dance outs, starting with an evening at the White Hart at Sherfield on Loddon with Mayflower on Jul 3, followed by an evening with Kintbury Morris at the Rising Sun, Stockcross on Jul 9, and an evening with Eynsham at the Black Horse, Checkendon on Jul 15 – a pub which it’s almost impossible to find even with sat nav, GRP, a local map, and a bloke who’s lived in the area for 50 years, but is great when you get there. And Eynsham were as unique as ever – so much energy in so many different sock colour combinations. Finally in July, a very pleasant weekend as guests of Ouse Washes at another of their legendary Rookery Farm weekends in mid Norfolk, with visits to Walsingham and Massingham for some dancing on the Saturday, and to Castle Acre on the Sunday. The venue, Gordon Phillips laid back farm in Great Dunham, provided a perfect setting with ample room for camping, a large barn for Saturday’s ceilidh, and plenty of outdoor space for Saturday evening’s hog roast. You just had to watch the odd hidden nettle and thistle as you skipped gaily barefooted around the campsite, but we soon persuaded John to stop doing it – perhaps he was just celebrating having finally put his borrowed tent up the right way round after 15 unsuccessful attempts?