Learning to fly

Today was the Morris Federation's 40th Anniversary Day of Dance in Bath.  Cathy, my sister Janet and my brother-in-law Mark (Incredibish) had a very pleasant day watching the dancing and (in the case of Mark and I) refreshing ourselves with the occasional pint of beer.  

Traditional Morris dancing is such a strange thing to do - I certainly couldn't imagine wanting to take part myself.  Its fair to say that the music itself is mind numbingly boring and repetitive.  The costumes bizarrely archaic and unflattering.  The dance steps themselves bucolic.  Yet taken as a whole there is something quintessentially English about the whole thing that can't help but bring a smile to the face.

Needless to say there were any number of photo opportunities.  I've uploaded a couple of extras for your amusement.