May Day

Tomorrow is May Day and for the another year there will be no Dancing at Dawn, unless some illicit rogue Morris dancers are willing to risk Covid and the police.

30 April 2010 at 11:43 ·

I've just been interviewed by BBC Radio Newcastle about Dancing at Dawn - 

and they rang me!   

I haven't issued a press release so I must be in someone's contacts book.  

"Is that Bentonbag?  Are you still involved in dancing on the Moor on MayDay?"  

Only a short piece probably being broadcast tomorrow, after we've danced.  

Strangely enough the woman didn't want to get up and do a piece from The Moor.

This caused the Squireen, who never did The Moor, to say 

"Turned on the radio this morning and there you were – again!”

In 2013 I retired from active clog morris dancing.

30 April 2015 at 09:53

Now there's a thing!

I've just had a 'phonecall from BBC Radio Newcastle asking about dancing at dawn on Town Moor. 

I'm obviously on someone's contacts list.

The young man asked the question "But why do they dance so early?"

To which the only reply could be "Because that's when the sun comes up"

Mrs Leftfoot  You see! I said we should...

 

For more about May Day see last year’s blog May Day Memories.

 

Cordless Phone

Once again trawling my Facebook Archives has produced little to amuse so I’m resorting to my ancient Morris dancers blog.  This was the twentyseventh and first published on 27^th March 2008.

Chateau Midden Cordless Phone

Tyne Bridge Morris has our first dance out of 2008 this Saturday at Morpeth Gathering:  Thunderthighs has just reminded me of something that happened at the Gathering a couple of years ago.

Tyne Bridge Morris’ kit comprises blue skirt and waistcoat, white blouse, black tights and clogs and red sash.  Some of us are fortunate enough to have big blue woolly jackets to match.  As Morpeth can be chilly (it will be this year) I normally take mine to wear mine when we’re not dancing.  I always put my kit on (except clogs) before going to a booking as I can’t be bothered to find places to change, or to carry extra clothing. 

However much information I hand/email out, and however often they are told, before most bookings someone will always phone me to check on times, meeting places or whatever, invariably when I’m upstairs putting tights onto freshly showered legs.

One Morpeth Gathering morning a couple of years ago Mrs East phoned me at the crucial moment.  Having a cordless phone meant the handset could be brought to me, infinitely more convenient than getting downstairs with half-mast tights.  Having given her the details yet again I finished dressing, put on my jacket, and remembered to take the phone downstairs.  I also remembered to put my mobile in my clog bag.

The drive to Morpeth was uneventful, parking was easy.  

I got my mobile out of the clog-bag and slipped it into my left hand pocket.

Walking into town I felt something heavy in my right hand pocket.

I put both hands in both pockets and brought a phone out of each.

One mobile and one cordless phone handset.

I had a vision of someone phoning us and Fester getting increasingly exasperated whilst failing to find the handset.  Although this image was amusing I also knew that he would assume (with good reason) that one of the children had moved it. 

Ferretfingers’ autism causes him to echo back any question he doesn’t understand or know the answer to.  I could see things getting fraught to the point of apoplexy – or worse.

 

Fortunately we have another line into the office in our house (ok box room over the stairs) so I could phone Fester on that and leave a message.

Mic Down And Up

 or more innate hostility of inanimate objects ...

You may remember, dear reader, Emojigate, when the technology of Tweeting defeated me …

Well other twenty-first century technology is just as intransigent.

When I realised I would have to take part in Zoom meetings or be useless, I acquired a webcam.  This lives clipped, with an old eraser to keep it upright, on the top edge of our computer screen (or VDU in old money).  It was cheap and the microphone on it is not very good; far too quiet and it hums a lot.

Just before Christmas the lovely men at Monkseaton Computers sorted me out with headphones with a mic attached.  Wonderful.  I facetimed Mrs Quilt and Mrs Leftfoot and Zoomed LDNE board meetings and Covens.  Thunderthighs could do his college classes remotely.  Even Fester took part in Zooms with ancient Kingsmen, interrupting over my shoulder but still, he spoke and was heard.

Every afternoon this week I’m doing a Ticbox Supporting Artistes course for and with NE14TV.  On Monday there was a preamble and then “Let’s all say a few words about ourselves, starting with Ben … Unmute yourself Ben … Oh you have unmuted … we can’t hear anything ...”

Of course it chose the most embarrassing moment to cease to function.

Yesterday morning first thing I took the headphones back down to Monkseaton Computers who replaced them, and I bought another sturdier set as spares.

Then came the fun of plugging them in and getting the computer to recognise the new mic, and make it loud enough.

Little did I know that Thunderthighs knew all along how to make it work, but was too shy to say so.  Until I got fed up of him hanging in the office doorway and barked 

“Well!  Do you know what to do?”

“Yes”

And he did.

This short clip shows what I was reduced to …

 

Meme Memory

This meme I spotted on Facebook the other day reminded me of something that happened when Dr E, Ms Eft and I were undergraduates. 

We were all members of Cathsoc and would regularly attend weekday Masses in the Chaplaincy.  These were celebrated in the little chapel, which had a dozen or so small pews in rows with a central aisle.

I went in one Monday teatime and saw Ms Eft with Dr E (or Student Dr E as she was then) sitting in the pew behind her.  SDrE and I were flatmates so I chose to sit next to Ms Eft whilst we waited in prayerful silence for Fr Bob to come in.

SDrE knelt, leant forward and whispered in my ear “What’s wrong with me then?”

I thought for a moment then leant back and whispered hoarsely “You smell.”

She started giggling; so much so I could feel the pew shaking, which started me off too.

In the end she got up and rushed out of the chapel.

I followed shortly after and we howled with laughter in the front hall.

We recovered our composure and went back in, where Ms Eft gave us a wide eyed look of admonishment which very nearly started us off again.

 

That was over four decades ago and, if our covens are anything to go by, little has changed.  

I still set DrE off and Ms Eft still gives us looks, and sometimes words, of admonishment.  

Two years ago, as we were about to leave Paula's funeral, Ms Eft looked at my soggy little cotton handky and said  "For goodness sake Bag, couldn't you have brought something better than that raggy thing?"

Cat Tales #24 Keyboard Cursor

Yes, I know, another cat story, but you never know, someone might find the information useful. From Facebook Archives …

26 April 2017 at 10:01 

Felix's favourite sitting spot when anyone is in the office is on a keyboard, preferably Fester's laptop. Fester uses a pc for work and the laptop for tv and radio, either live or iPlayer.  If we're both in the office I expend a deal of effort in persuading Felix to walk around the back of the laptop.

It's not unusual for Fester to doze off whilst working.

We were in the office the other evening and Felix creeps, un-noticed, onto the laptop and settles down comfortably.  Eventually Fester wakes up, shoos Felix away and discovers the laptop screen has been turned through ninety degrees.  Instead of being landscape it is portrait.  And he thinks the mouse isn't working because he's shifting it so vigorously he can't actually focus on it.

 

So there are cries off "Me bloody cursor's gone!"

Replies of "It's there, stop moving the mouse."

"The mouse isn't bloody working, it's all over the place."

"Then stop moving it!"

Of course Fester had no idea how to return it back to landscape.

I had a vague idea about the control panel but with the mouse 'not working' even when we can get in there's no obvious screen orientation menu.

I suggest we ask Ferretfingers as he once turned his VDU's screen upside down in secondary school (the technician had to close down and reboot the whole school system to get it back).  However the atmosphere was so fraught communication was impossible.

Then "Thunderthighs come down here a minute"

Thunderthighs looks at the problem, laughs, says "hang on a minute", thunders back to the loft and down again, presses three keys and - hey presto - it's back as it should be.

"What did you do? Show me what you did!"

"Control, alt and an arrow key."

"Which arrow key?"

"Any arrow key."

Thunderthighs trundles off and peace, for a while, returns.