After finally dipping my toes into the world of Morris Dancing, the call went out for volunteers for the annual Mummers play. Having watched it for several years on Boxing Day at my local and never being close enough to hear what was actually going on, I decided to find out what it was all about and tentatively threw my hat into the ring.
Needless to say, I understood none of what was going on to begin with, and worst of all the part with the least number of lines was scandalously denied me. Perhaps I should have kept quiet and concentrated more on my dancing, oh well.
With my role confirmed, I was handed my script and sent forth to memorise it before our first practice, which actually appeared easier than I imagined and many a car journey was spent rehearsing over the next few weeks.
Practice it appears, doesn’t always make perfect. But with a few prompts I muddled through our first attempt with the aid of our more experienced thespians and gradually began to hone my craft. All that was left was a costume, and after combining an old cloak with several evenings gluing tin foil to cardboard the Red Morocca King was reborn.
Now understand, dancing in a group gives you a little leeway to make mistakes, but on the stage when all eyes are upon you alone, there is nowhere to hide, and on the night of the first performance a few days before Christmas that was all I could think of.
Luckily by the time it was my turn to burst through the first set of pub doors, the crowd were feeling rather “festive” and our earlier actors had warmed them up nicely. I was bold, I was daring, a finer representation of chivalric majesty had ne’er been seen on the streets of Olde Wokingham. And, after my death and later resurrection a swift half of ale was much needed to steady my shaking hands. Unfortunately, not every performance that evening had the same level of dramatis and perfection, but you can’t win them all can you.
Regardless of our acting skills what seemed more important, and this was hammered home with each venue we arrived at, was the joy (and bewilderment) on peoples faces and their inquisitiveness as to what on earth we were doing. Such customs should be preserved and taught about not only for the sake of tradition and the money raised for charity, but also for the free beer!
Would I do it again and recommend it to others, wholeheartedly. One word of advice though, go easy on the libations at Christmas before the Boxing Day session.
by Keith Colbert
YATELEY MORRIS MEN 