I love living in this part of the world. It’s close enough to all the joys of the capital city, with the history and tradition of a village. How many other places still close the High Street for a St George’s day fair? Fewer yet within the M25, I’d imagine.
The children were fascinated by the Morris Dancers who performed a huge range of dances, with the essential white handkerchiefs, staff and a wooden sword dance where the swords were brought together to form a star.
There was even an ‘obby ‘oss (I think) with a beautifully made black & white horses head, and a smaller brown rubber horse mask which the children were invited to try on.
The dancers seem to be from St Martin’s Morris; do you think they’d traveled up from the Isles of Scilly to perform or are they more local? I’d love to know more about the meaning and ritual of these dances but I grew up in Scotland so learnt about eight-some reels instead.
We missed the Punch & Judy show, but managed to explore the fire engine and watch the brilliant swing dancers too. Just as we were leaving, we even caught a glimpse of St George who seemed to have been captured by his dragon and put into a wheelbarrow, ready for the race.
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