How did it start for me?

I had the good fortune to marry Joan back in 1975 and our first home was in Alder Grove, Balby. Two sounds of the home bring back memories. The first would have to be the clatter of clogged feet, down the cellar steps, up the cellar steps then, 30 seconds later, repeat. Why would this be? Remember the 1970's and the wearing of Dr. Scholl's footwear? Hence the clogging but up and down the cellar - Stuart Swan and Sylvia had the fridge in the cellar and this was the ritual when making a cup of tea. The second sound? The constant twittering of Stuart as he practiced his tunes. Probably the most remarkable whistler I have ever heard, trilling away like a demented canary! Roger Whittaker eat your heart out!

There am I living next to Stuart and avoiding, for the next year, invites to folk clubs etc but eventually he wore me down and off we went one Sunday evening to the Corporation Taps where he introduced me to the gentle art of Morris Dancing and, being me, I avoided even joining in the practice whilst thoroughly enjoying the Sam Smiths ale. I never was easy to get into a set even when a qualified dancer! Which is why I took up the music.

Weeks passed and I had a tragic accident when I fell off of my (stationary) motorcycle and broke my arm - at last a valid reason not to dance due to heavy handkerchiefs etc. So I languished as a spectator for a further 6 weeks but this was not to be my lot! Crisis - we have a dance out and not enough dancers (1977 - no change there then). Solution teach Norm to dance. It's not until Saturday anyway.

My tutor was to be Glynn Field, later to become the fat bloke with a drum with Horwich Prize Medal, last seen by me staggering around Whitby Folk Festival - we had just arrived and did not know where the action was but went out in search of music and rounded a corner to see a solitary, beclogged Morris man, carrying what turned out to be a stainless steel bucket full of beer, having found glasses too small to drink from (quite a legend Glynn).

Back to the plot (and my back yard - for it is here I learnt for the first time that hey wasn't just someone shouting) recovering from the broken arm and using a light stick, two day's intensive training between the pair of us and off I went to High Melton to dance for the first time in set and the first time in public - for a meeting of the Blind and Partially Sighted Association (lucky there then).

Picture it now - 20 visually challenged persons, a dozen guide dogs and a Morris side, the music struck up - Joan and Pete Clifford on Concertinas - the first figure starts with the nervous dogs cringing from the jangling bells, the first chorus of clashing sticks (getting the mood of it yet?) 10 dogs, rabid with fear, strike up a threatening bellow of rage with foaming jaws, straining to eat Morris, void their bowels and extract revenge. The other two? One deaf and one daft I suppose. Barbara (Barratt) took all the dogs for walkies and on we went. After the dance, lashings of hot tea and a room full of people who wanted to feel your bells.

My baptism of fire, thanks to the few I can remember the names of, but you who know me now will recall that I can barely remember to buy a round these days. I still have pictures of the gig which I might seek out - if only I could get this damned scanner to work: Stuart Swann, Geoff Prior, Colin Barratt, Glynn Field, Paul (?)

Incidentally, I may have been instrumental in the Cheswold identity as I had a mate who lived in Cheswold Road which had just been demolished in the ethnic cleansing of Doncaster's more interesting housing stock.  I believe the side had no name but were playing with 'Danum Morris' as an identity, but I may have convinced them that there were too many Danums around.

My career with Cheswold was about 3 years at which point I moved to Scotland to be deprived of the dance for 4 years and on my return found Cheswold to be in it's final throes, so joined Green Oak in time for Dancing England and the East Yorkshire Vessel Cuppers (perhaps a subject for another occasion).

Next week, Morris as a martial art (attending a Green Oak practice as a Cheswold man).