Name The Year

Once again trawling the Facebook archives has produced no posts, and the family did nothing amusing yesterday, so I’m reduced to returning to my old blog. 

This was the sixteenth and published on 19^th December 2007.

 

Name The Year

The Name the Year picture puzzle in the Journal on Monday (17 December) induced a flood of texts and emails from me to various friends who are or were or are or were linked to the Kingsmen Sword Dancers.  It may have produced an increase in sales of at least two copies. 

The Squireen (of TyneBridge) actually popped around after work to have a look at the picture, as she was also involved with a Kingsman back then.  We originally met because our beaux were both Kingsmen, flatmates and friends.  They now live within a few miles of each other in Bath and dance rapper down there (maybe they wanted to get as far away from us as geographically possible). 

Bazoukiboy (a Kingsman) also came over to complain that I’d woken him up at 9am by sending him a text.  Having recently been made redundant he’d been enjoying a lie in.

Having first got involved with a Kingsman at a Newcastle University Catholic Chaplaincy Christmas party in December 1979 I may even have been at that Ovingham Goose Fair.   

The first Morris dance I ever saw was a 30 man Royton at their 30^th Anniversary Ceilidh.   

I was hooked

In the picture they are doing the Royton Clog Morris processional, and about to go into a figure called ‘motorbikes’.   

The two lads at the front are Gin Tube and Banjoman.

Gin was a miserable little ginger yorkshireman who now lives on the South Coast. 

Banjoman now has considerably less hair (I’m being kind) which makes him look much less girly and doll like.  

The other visible face is Craigsy.  

Somewhere at the back Fester is calling the figures and most likely swearing.

The Squire examined the picture carefully

“Those are Murphy’s feet” she said “I’d recognise those legs anywhere.”

All this makes me wonder about fate and “Sliding Door” moments.   

If I hadn’t gone to that Christmas Party, if Murphy hadn’t persuaded me to go to the Ceilidh, I might never have got into the folk and dance scene, and the whole course of my life might have been completely different. 

I might not have ended up doing this blog.

Post Script

The photograph in question was from 1981.  It came in handy recently as a quiz  talking point in the most recent Zoom meeting for aged Kingsmen, including some of those mentioned above.