Stone the Crows in North Lancashire
On Good Friday, Darcy lost his virginity. Not in the normal sense of the word or phrase, I should add, but in a peculiarly Morris Dancing sort of way. You see he danced out in a rag coat (lovingly sewn by yours truly), top hat and blacked up face for the first time. It was his first official engagement as a Stone the Crows Morris Dancer and he did us all proud.
The event was a tour of various North Lancs towns and villages organised by John O’Gaunt Morris for their day of dance. We met in a car park in Lancaster, where Darcy and I put the finishing touches to our “uniforms” – i.e. I blacked my face and then blacked his. When he was finished, he did look a little like Papa Lazarou from The League of Gentlemen
or maybe a mad, morris dancing Slash. 
So we were bussed out with fellow teams John O’Gaunt, who dance North West and Cotswold morris and Amounderness Ladies Morris, who also dance North West Morris. Our first stop was Milnthorpe, a small market town in South Cumbria on the A6. There was a farmers market on and a respectably sized and appreciative crowd.
John O’Gaunt danced first. Then Stone the Crows. The first dance I did was Ragged Crow, which I love, and I might have developed a certain degree of hubris about it. I really thought I knew it. It was the first time I had danced in public for a while and Nemesis was waiting round the corner for me. I went wrong and spectacularly so (well, to me anyway) during the dance but managed to keep a smile on my face and get to the end without any further wrong steps.
Then Darcy danced a White Ladies of Aston, which is a rather long and complicated dance. I watched him from the steps leading up to the church and he didn’t put a foot wrong. I was so proud of him and he looked fabulous. Then Darcy and I wandered off round the market to see if there was anything to buy. We found a stall selling scarves (long and flowy types) and we each bought one to put on our hats (my previous scarf having been purloined by my youngest daughter). It was freezing that day so I wrapped mine round my neck to lessen my shivering. It actually was quite effective.
Next stop after Milnthorpe was the Limeburners Arms in Nether Kellett, where a hotpot lunch and apple crumble were supplied by John O’Gaunt. The hotpot was delicious and Darcy and I went back for seconds and I would have gone back for thirds but it had all gone by then. We danced in the pub car park, feeling slightly heavier than before. This time, because there was room, we did a double White Ladies. White Ladies is a very complicated dance already, in my opinion, and I have this theory that if you double the number of dancers, the complicatedness increases exponentially. Fortunately, I danced opposite Natalie, who is a very good dancer, and made sure I didn’t put a foot wrong. Darcy also danced this double White Ladies, but not particularly close to me, so our paths did not cross.
The one thing that really stands out about this dance was the wind got up during it and whipped half the feathers and flowers from my hat (I have these rather cute artificial black flowers on my hat). I had to rip the rest of them off and throw them to one side so I could see where I was going. They were retrieved by a fellow Morris dancer, who returned them to me later.
I was inconsolable. I managed to keep up a brave face while eight of my colleagues danced a Woodhouse Bog and even shook a tambourine during the dancing of it but I sulked on the coach all the way to Arnside and was silently vowing never to dance again. I could be heard to say time after time that wind should be banned. It should be illegal and the penalty for the wind blowing should life.
We arrived at Arnside, our last stop on the tour, and, after a bit of a to do with a car driver in a narrow street (silly man decided to have an argument with the driver of a large coach and ultimately lost face with his wife and children), I got off the bus with my hat and my feathers etc still unattached. I think we only danced the one dance there. It was freezing and the wind was blowing a gale. Our foreman, Murray, said that we could dance sans hats, so I muscled in on our last dance, Ashpole: one of the first dances I learned and therefore one of my favourites. After that we adjourned to the pub where I sat down opposite a couple of John O’Gaunt dancers, chatted with them and Darcy and nursed my Apple and Mango J2O lovingly, revelling in the warmth. I would have happily had a cask ale or a mulled wine even but I was driving and Darcy was my passenger so I stayed off the booze.
We returned to Lancaster and then Darcy and I went home via Sainsbury’s and his Mum and Dad’s, still blacked up. Darcy made me wear my hat into Sainsbury’s even though it didn’t have feathers on it. He can be cruel sometimes!
Now here are Stone the Crows dancing Ragged Crow at an earlier date. Unfortunately, it does not have the full dance on it and please note I am not dancing in this video so there will be no wrong moves!
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