onionbagblog

To the Rose and Crown on Friday evening for what seemed like an event that half of Wivenhoe had turned out to witness. I like to think that the merry making of the Colchester Morris Men was the reason for the rallying of the troops; I suspect Friday night riverside refreshment played a part.

After freezing their jingly jangly bells off outside the Black Buoy on Boxing Day, the good folk of the Colchester Morris Men returned to these parts under slightly more favourable conditions.

It takes some balls (and big sticks) to get all handkerchief-ed up on a Friday night, and then skip around the Quay to the sound of some fiddly diddly folk music. When I tired it all alone last week, I came close to ending up in a padded cell for the evening.

But there’s safety in numbers - both for Morris Men and boozers alike. Shortly after 8pm, the first bellows from the accordion were puffed out, and the spectacle of mass middle-aged men skipping was upon us.

An appreciative audience clapped, took photos and then went back to boozing - just another Friday night in Wivenhoe then.

There was no giant wooden dog doing the rounds this time, but instead a large wooden spoon was passed around the tables of the Rose and Crown. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to offer up some loose change, or use the utensil as some medieval phallic totem-pulling device.

The good men of the Colchester red ‘n green continued with their skipping, just about holding off the elements with their estuary non-rain dance. Five pints later and it was time for me to head back to base with a hop, skip and a jump. No bells, no big sticks - only inside my trousers anyway.

Boom boom.