You will see the man dressed as a baby in the shot above. Thats him with the whitish beard and white hair scraped up into two schoolgirl ‘bunches’. I have no idea what his function was in the Morris Dancing troupe with which he was performing. I know Morris Dancers are partial to Green Men and Hooden Horses, but this was the first large elderly man in a pink dress, boots, bells and bunches. No doubt he was deeply symbolic of something.
I once read that ‘abroad’ the British are universally pictured as marching about in bowler hats and carrying furled umbrellas, usually in the pouring rain. I thought these pictures, taken today at the Rochester Sweeps Festival, might go some way to redressing the balance.
I quite like this picture – a lucky accident as I couldn’t actually see the screen, the sun was shining on it so brightly. Dazed and confused, for all of them I simply lifted the mobile phone up at random and pressed the button. The thing I notice most about it though is that although everyone is having a good day out, engaged in ‘fun’, no one – not the woman in the wheelchair, the leaner on the lamp-post, not even the jolly dancers hopping around and bashing their sticks together – is actually smiling.
There were more Morris Dancers than you could shake a stick at. Apparently they converge on Rochester from all over the country. In my younger day it was all rather sedate. The men always wore white and always sort of matched. Nowadays anything goes. I particularly liked this punk troupe with their fishnet tights and top hats. It also answers the question: Where did all the hippies go? Here they are, in all their faded glory, the remnants of My Generation.
I wondered what they all did when they weren’t dancing. The one in the thonged leather – might he be a bank manager in everyday life? The lady in the multi-coloured tatters with the pint of beer – possibly works behind reception at the local leisure centre?
As the day went on we passed more and more people with painted faces, so this tent was obviously popular. I cropped out an unfortunately-shaped young woman in unfortunate jeans. No doubt she’ll appear in somebody else’s picture.
So, a good day was had by all, and back we clambered onto our Community Minibus. The wheelchair took some time to affix. Boy is it tiring, enjoying yourself!