Dave Mundy
According to new research, extra-virgin olive oil boosts the memory and staves off Alzheimer’s disease! Now, if I could only find an ‘extra virgin’ ….any ideas?
Geoff Fletcher
Try the Nun’s Genuine Walk-Ons site – they supply true believers for deeply religious movies and dramas.
Dave Mundy
… but what about the old joke about the nunnery, “Lights out at ten, candles out at eleven”?
Geoff Fletcher
Have you been watching reruns of “The Devils”?
Dave Mundy
The only thing of Ken Russell’s I have is my favourite, the Monitor “Elgar”, narrated by Huw Wheldon, on VHS!
When I worked in Brum, my wife and I went to the Malvern hills on a day out and following Elgar’s pony ride we arrived at the top to find a BBC Comms. mid-point truck! It’s a small world!
Geoff Fletcher
I still remember that programme. Elgar is one of my favourite composers, only rivalled by Butterworth, who was killed in the First World War (1916) – a genius cut off before his prime in my opinion. Also Parry: all three are favourites of mine.
Dave Mundy
I know about Hubert Parry, as I was in the tri-forium of St. Paul’s during Princess Di’s wedding when they played “I was glad” with the full organ, Kneller hall trumpeters, and all the choirs etc., and was in tears! What a day!
Nick Ware
I was there for that occasion too, in the organ loft. If you were in the triforium close to the dome section of the organ, that’s probably the most awesomely powerful sound you’ll ever hear!
Bernie Newnham
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Gary Critcher
Gosh, Nimbus Records rings a bell. When I worked at the Transcription Service at Ken. House they used to press all our records after both EMI and Decca gave up pressing them for us… Very good quality pressings.
Roger Bunce
There’s a name on that CD that brings back terrible memories of childhood abuse.
People talk about corporal punishment in the 1950s, but, at my primary school, we had a worse form of torture. It was a lesson called "Country Dancing"! – in the school hall, with a wind-up gramophone.
One of the many painful aspects of Country Dancing was that you had to do it with GURLS – who always cheated – by remembering the steps, having a sense of rhythm and generally being better than the boys. They were endlessly putting up their hands to report, "Please Miss, Roger Bunce is doing it all wrong again!" After completely failing to master ‘Gathering Peascods’ and ‘Eightsome Reel’, we learned a new dance. I did my pathetic best, as usual, but at the end the Teacher called out – "Roger, do it Properly!" – at least – that’s what I thought she said – it was the sort of thing she usually said. Actually, she was telling us the name of the dance – ‘Sir Roger de Coverley’.
I feel Vaughn Williams should also be in your list of favourites (and those two names really are the same person).
Nick Ware
Except that he was "Vaughan". My father knew Vaughan Williams (but he didn’t know Lloyd George).
Incidentally, if anyone’s interested, you can get Ken Russell’s “Elgar” (“Monitor”) film on a BFI DVD (£8.00). I got that and "The Epic that Never Was" (“I, Claudius”) documentary, plus several Betjeman ones from there (or they can be found on Amazon).
Dave Mundy
It would be nice to have a quality version of “Elgar”. I acquired some of the Betjeman National Benzole Trade Test films on VHS from the ‘Test Card Circle’ group (yes, there really is one!) together with lots of other Trade Test favourites. Before day-time TV one got to know them off-by-heart while setting up colour TVs!
Geoff Fletcher
Sometimes I have this eerie feeling that Roger and I shared the same childhood. I could have written his last entry almost word for word (changing the name to protect the guilty of course) right down to the ‘Sir Roger De Coverley’. I always got the plain fat girl who nobody wanted to dance with. Remember the ‘Circassian Circle’? Perhaps better not to mention the ‘Gay Gordons’..!
And you are correct – Vaughan Williams is another favourite composer of mine. I guess I just like the sound of diminishing thirds.
Pat Heigham
My prep school in the 1950s operated Corporal punishment – I got whacked a couple of times.
One was after lights out in my dorm – I was trying to do handstands on the bedheads, and fell off, forgetting that the Headmaster was having his supper in the room below. Up he charged and played the ultimate card: "If whoever was responsible doesn’t own up, I’ll beat the lot of you!"
So I got four in my pyjamas with the bamboo cane, stung like hell and started me sleeping on my front.
The stripes were exhibited to the dorm next day, serving, of course:
"Pour encourager les autres!"
I didn’t object and still don’t, to this punishment – it’s rapidly executed and later forgotten, yes, it hurts, it’s meant to. The problem is that if administered by a sadistic individual, then that’s bad. My second school allowed beatings to be carried out by senior prefects, where the above criticism is valid. (“Tom Brown’s Schooldays”.)
At my Technical College ( for A Level Physics and Maths courses), there was one period per week where we had to do something that was totally different to the studied subjects. I could have learned metalwork or carpentry, but the dancing class (inc Country Dancing) appealed, as we linked up with the ‘gurls’ from the secretarial courses. (Found a lovely girlfriend with long auburn hair….who joined the Film Club and could lace up the 16mm projectors faster than me!)
We both were picked to join a large festival at the Royal Albert Hall – that was fun, and much later another girlfriend bought me a badge that said: “I’ve performed at the Royal Albert Hall”. I found the learning of the square dances very handy as I’ve attended several wedding receptions, where square dancing was the order of the day.
Also, the college class taught Morris Dancing. Before you sneer, this has to be highly precise, as working with sticks, if you don’t get in sync, your head can be cracked open! I discovered that it’s also a great way to free beer! I was asked to join a Morris group by the guy who taught us, doing a round of Surrey pubs, one summer. Transported, wisely, by minibus, he would ask the landlord if we could dance for his customers. Dances over, landlord says, "Great chaps, have a pint on the house!" And so back in the bus to repeat the procedure at several pubs later!
I cannot come to terms with people that deride one of our national dances – other countries are very proud of their folk dance history.
And I always enjoyed the dance evenings at Evesham. Eric Wallis and I volunteered to fetch the nurses from Worcester, as we had cars. If there was a pretty one, we could steal a march on the rest of the guys – if not, we spent the petrol money over the bar!
Roger Bunce
I would never sneer at Morris dancing. I took my Granddaughter to a display at Sidmouth once (there wasn’t much else to do) and really enjoyed it. There were troupes from all over the country. You knew that the next dance was about to start from the fact that they put their pints down, and came whooping and cheering through the crowd, bulldozing us spectators aside. The ladies’ dances, with floral arches, were really attractive. While the men were doing very dangerous things with sticks, and taking flying leaps over one-another’s’ shoulders – like something from the Ukrainian State Cossack Dancers – all very impressive.
While other ethnic groups are encouraged to preserve their cultural heritage, we English are always taught to be ashamed and embarrassed of ours. Why? Politically correct racism, in my opinion. Time we took over Trafalgar Square on St. George’s Day, for a Morris Dance spectacular – with May Pole dances; recitations from Shakespeare, Chaucer and the Robin Hood ballads; maybe a few Cloggies, and a George and the Dragon pageant.
If you’ve never seen the "Come Clog Dancing" flashmob – it’s a really inspirational, feel-good event.
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Pat Heigham
Three cheers!
Why don’t we English celebrate our folk dancing history? The only time it gets a mention is during the Padstow festival where the ‘mascot’ is the Hobby Horse. Other countries dance heritage is beautiful – take India, celebrated in Bollywood style, rhythmic and colourful. Filming in Bulgaria, I was entertained at a super performance in a comfortable theatre, not unlike our Barbican, with folk dancers that glided across the stage.
The ‘Morris step’ is like a backwards skip, and quite tricky to acquire – I doubt I could do it now!
Yes, there is handkerchief waving and bells round the shins, and ribbons, but it ain’t poofty.
A coincidence – the chap who taught us at college, was the leader of the Greensleeves Morris men, based in Kensington, and introduced me to the chief guy of the Morris Ring who used to come along to the dance evenings in the Evesham club.
A small world.
I love the idea of a Trafalgar Square spectacular – how about Nelson’s Column being a gigantic maypole? Needs a producer like Stuart Morris (he-he) to pull it off, with John Noakes introducing it, clinging onto the great Admiral himself. Suppose Shep could be cocking his leg! Shame they are all in the great ‘studio-in-the-sky’ now.
Bernie Newnham
We did country dancing at my Tufnell Park Junior School, and went in for a competition at Cecil Sharp House. It’s still there, I just checked, and the picture of the stage is exactly as I didn’t remember it till now. We boys had to do a sword dance, with flat wooden swords, dancing around and weaving them into a sort of star.
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We didn’t win.
Much later, in the fifth form, we had to learn ballroom dancing for the end of term dance. At first all very shy, we eventually realised that you could actually grab hold of a girl and not get thumped. And I got to dance the last waltz with a girl I’d fancied for years. Then, of course, it was end of term and she left.
Geoff Fletcher
Don’t forget the Bacup Coconut Dancers!
Chris Woolf
Morris and other dancing like ‘Obby ‘Oss at Padstow got emasculated a century or so ago.
These dances are rough and tumble stuff associated with rampant sex. When the ‘Oss dragged a woman under its skirts it was not a lot different from Boris in the restaurant broom cupboard.
When the dances became recorded and popularised for tourists most of that element had to be toned down.
It’s a bit like 10 year old English schoolgirls dancing Spanish flamenco or tango – without the overt and meaningful flirtation these dances don’t mean anything.
The idea of sanitised versions of country dancing round Nelson’s Column isn’t going to make the Brits take to the idea any better. It really needs a powerful suggestion of the erotic as well as the masculine vigour of the dancers, and we don’t manage that well here.
Pat Heigham
I remember the Cecil Sharp House – our Liberal studies dance teacher (she was the head of the college’s secretarial courses) used to drive four of us there on occasions.
We had flat metal swords for the rapper sword routines; after some complicated twisting moves, the interlinked ‘star’ was formed, with a bit of luck.
The last waltz:
On holiday with three blokes in the Ring of Kerry, southern Ireland, we ventured into a local hooley dance in a village hall. It was all very proper – girls seated one side, chaps the other. When the music started, the boys diffidently made their way across to choose a partner. When the last dance was called, that’s when the fights started, as it seemed that the boy could walk the girl home afterwards. So there was fierce competition for a favoured lass! We English kept out of that one, as it had become clear that
the local lads did not take too kindly to the tourists horning in on their talent stable!
I was grateful for that dance training – came in useful at social events in later life. A chum of mine had been a Naval officer, and ballroom dancing had been taught at Dartmouth – for if their ship happened to visit foreign ports, there was usually a social evening for the local gentry, and the officers were expected to partner the wives on the floor.
My friend is fascinated by a film which I managed to obtain on 16mm and later on DVD: "We Joined the Navy". There is an hilarious sequence where the Petty Officer (Sid James) is trying to teach the officer recruits to learn the basic ballroom steps. My friend took his mother to see it in the cinema, and she is reported to have said: "It won’t be anything like that, dear!"
It was exactly like that!
Dave Lawson
I remember a talk at our village hall not long ago from a local leader of the Morrismen. He included the history of Morris Dancing.
Apparently the name “Morris” is a corruption of Moorish, i.e. from North Africa. So our beloved English dancing is an import via Moorish Spain.
Roger Bunce
That’s one theory.
The more plausible one is that the dancers originally blacked their faces (as the Bacup Coconut Dancers still do). They were thus felt to resemble the Moors (Othello’s lot – sometimes known as ‘Blackamoors’), who weren’t actually black, but were the darkest skinned people known to Europeans, back in Medieval times. Sub-Saharan Africans only became familiar later. The face blackening was to make the dancers look exotic and supernatural. Nothing politically incorrect was intended.
Geoff Fletcher
No, no, no… It is a well known fact that all Morris Dancers are great beer drinkers. When on their travels they found a beer they liked they would remark: “This is a bit moreish!" – hence the name Morish Dancers later becoming Morris Dancers.
Gawd it’s getting late and I have had perhaps one too many Black Sheep ales – £1.80 a bottle from the local Tesco!
Graeme Wall
I prefer an afternoon tea myself, https://www.hogsback.co.uk/product/t-e-a/
Peter Cook
Another story about Sidmouth.
In a previous life, my late wife was a member of a North West Morris side (in not north of Watford). This dance as you may know involves clogs which were, with the rest of the costume, quite expensive. Not to worry as it was an excuse, nay reason, to tag along to pubs on summer evenings if I was not on an OB site somewhere. And to participate required drinking beer, not dancing I hasten to add. This got me out of driving as well!
Some people, mostly men, are very sniffy about ladies who do Morris Dancing, but they forget that it was the wives and girlfriends who kept the tradition alive during the many years when the men folk were fighting wars.
Now said lady was from Budleigh Salterton, next town west of Sidmouth so we would visit the folk festival together each year if I was not working at the other end of the country. One night we were enjoying a bevy and some music and dance in a barn-like pub room, when suddenly a lot of lights were switched on (blondes and redheads). In came a number of gentlemen to whom I was well acquainted, Alan Hayward and Ian Leiper I remember, plus maybe Les Mowbray. In other words the crew of the LPU. It was a hot evening and they were obviously rushing so I took pity on them and got a round of ale in for them. Course they had to bugger off pronto to the next gig. Expensive evening and I was not like them on Sched A, but I am sure that they would have done the same for me!
John Nottage
Southwold Arts Festival began yesterday (24th June 2017): street parade (with the Suffolk School of Samba), opening by Emma Freud, then various musical events including – Morris Dancing! They were called The Pretty Grim Border Morris, and there seemed to be at least as many women as men involved. The costumes of purple and black looked more like something from Haiti.
Huge fun last night with “The Simon and Garfunkel Story”. Lots more entertainment to come…
Bernie Newnham
Slightly different dancing…
In 2007 I visited India for the first (and probably last) time. I took my elder son as my wife tends to only do 4 star hotels and above. Amongst other places we went to Agra, which is a terrible dump with one of the world’s most beautiful buildings in the middle. We got food poisoning. After two weeks of staying in £7 at night hotels and eating all kinds of stuff without problems we went to a smart tourist hotel and ate their thali.
The next day was spent in the room watching English language films and visiting the loo. In the evening we felt better and, not wanting their thali again, we walked down the street of small Indian shops – like British domestic garages with the front off – and at the end was a Pizza Hut. Sort of like a mirage – the whole Pizza Hut bit stuck in the middle of the usual piles of rubbish, wandering cows and auto rickshaws. We could believe our eyes. In we went. It had two aisles and the customers were a complete mix of Indian race and religion. We were well into our pizzas when the regular Indian background music stopped, and this happened:
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbOkLEY1XL4 .
Even more mind blowing – and now known enough to be much repeated on YouTube and elsewhere.
The waiter nearest the camera is, I think, ours – the one who mistook us for a gay couple and camped it up a lot.
You don’t get that in Woking!
Ian Hillson
And eating a lot of cheese staves off deafness ..
