It's A Small World...

 ... but I wouldn't like to paint it.

I was very late blogging last Wednesday because I was on a mission down at the coast, and I popped in to see Cousin Daisy “while she’s still here”.

This is going to be a winding tale so get a coffee and settle down.

In 1979 I encountered the Newcastle Kingsmen Rapper Sword Dancers.  Well, to be honest, I encountered Sheamus Murphy and he introduced me to the rest, including Fester my current husband.  I became, and still am, friends with many of the others.

In the early 80s the Kingsmen went on a number of foreign dance tours and festivals including one to Poland.   

Those of a historical bent and long memory will remember that this was the time of Solidarity and Lech Walesa.   

One of the Kingsmen (no names no pack-drill) brought me back a badge from the festival which stayed in my jewellery box with other treasures.

Earlier this year I decided it would look good on the lapel of my white summer jacket.

Last Saturday I helped on an LD North East stall at a craft fair in Earsdon, and took the jacket with me.  When I got home I realised the badge was gone.

On Monday morning, not really expecting any joy, I phoned the number for the hall the fair was held in, described the badge and asked if it had been found.  The nice man on the phone said he would ask the cleaners and, about half an hour later, called me to say it had been handed in and he had it, and gave me his address in Whitley Bay.

As I have to take Ferretfingers to the Rising Sun Farm on Wednesday mornings, which takes me half way there, I decided that would be the best time to go down.

At 9.30 I rang the doorbell and the nice man brought the badge out.  

It seemed only polite to tell him where it had originated.

“Oh I thought it was something folky like that.  I used to dance with Hammersmith Morris Men and Monkseaton Morris and we used to pick up badges like that at various folk festivals.”

I don’t know how much a Venn diagram of morris men and people who look after halls overlaps but we managed to slip into it.

Driving home, at the end of his street I had the choice of turning left to see the sea or right up towards Cousin Daisy’s.  In the back of my head I heard my mother’s 

“She might not be here that much longer” and turned right.

When Daisy answered the door I told her “It was a toss up between going to see the sea and coming to see you …”

“And you came to see me while I’m still here.”

(She is 88 next birthday)

The clasp on the badge is too squished to wear safely again so it now resides in the home of small treasures and souvenirs; the dolls’ house I inherited from Fester’s mother.