Morris, Boris and Doris

First, I'd like to say how surprised and delighted I was with the response to my yesterday's blip about Greenham Common. I never expected so much interest. My participation in those events was very marginal but never to be forgotten, hence my pleasure in the survival of my Greenham sweater. I haven't managed to get around to responding to everyone who made comments yet but hope to do so.
(Happy to report that the offending word 'pensioner' was removed from the BBC website following complaints. I know at least two were made by blippers: you know who you are - thanks!)

Saturday was a very busy day and I took very few photographs. The holiday weekend coincides with Fishguard's folk festival and a morris team (or side) was naturally in attendance. You can learn a bit about this traditional dancing here. It's generally regarded as a quaint ye-olde custom that's been revived by middle-class folk over the past few decades as a dressing-up hobby that both keeps you fit, with all the leaping and prancing, and also provides an excuse for conviviality in the pub afterwards. It's no longer a men-only practice, women and children are involved too.

Here the dancers are performing outside The Royal Oak in Fishguard Square. Of the people watching I've little doubt that I have the longest history of morris dance appreciation. My parents, Boris and Doris,* would, in the 1930s, travel down from London to Oxford with their bikes every Whitsun weekend (which is what this is/was), and make their way to Bampton in the Cotswolds to watch, applaud and drink with the morris dancers of that small town, where the tradition went back generations, maybe centuries, only suspended in time of war. Later during the 1960s my parents returned (with me) and found members of the same families performing. Bampton Morris is still going strong today, dancing and quaffing at every pub and big house in the town.

*Only the first of those names is genuine.