A Morris Man's Tale

All characters are fictitious, If a character name is used in connection with a side, it?s just co-incidence if that given name belongs in that side. Insofar as song lyrics being included I don?t know the legalities or etiquette involved, I have given the opening few and last few lines if that is all that is needed or the song in full if the text needs it and credit to the author in either case, traditional songs are treated the same but credited as Traditional.

This is a fiction story, not fantasy and while there is a lot of passion and some very erotic action in later parts and in book two if you are looking for raw action then I am sorry but this isn't the book for you.


Chapter One
Meeting


It?s Friday 29th of April, 4pm and I?ve just driven into Fort Pitt Grammar School in Rochester. It is a grey and chilly afternoon as I drive through the car park and onto the sports field, a short drive along the right hand side of the field to halfway along the fencing beside the tennis courts, this where I pull up and park the caravan parallel with the fence to join with other campers etc. performing at the Sweeps festival. I have been coming to sweeps for over twenty years but this is the first since I lost my wife. This year I?m not performing ? a side we both danced with last year has put me on their strength for the weekend ? so I can just relax and catch up with news and gossip from friends in other sides that I?ve not seen since the Tenterden folk weekend last October.
First things first though, wind the corner steadies down and level the two berth caravan and crack a can of Old Speckled Hen before I get the awning up, hopefully before the darkening clouds drop the rain that is forecast for over night and early morning, not as easy single handed and I definitely feel the need for a few orang-utan genes as my arms seem to be a good foot too short to hold up the fabric and grab the next pole that needs to be fitted, still eventually all done, next is to arrange the two solar panels and get the electrics connected up, the last chore is to get some water ? Forty litres in the aqua roll and ten for the toilet tank- it?s a bit of a trek round to the other side of the site and a fair weight to haul back but I haven?t used the car to shift water before and hopefully I?m not going to start for a few years yet. Ye gods though, it seems twice as far this year, I wish I?d used my puffer before I left, on my return to the caravan I connect the Aqua-roll and run the pump until the smell of sterilising fluid dissipates then fill the kettle for a brew, While the kettle is heating I make the bed up, I don?t fancy trying to sleep on either of the single size beds at the sides of the van, knowing my luck I?ll probably fall out, so make up the full width bed as we usually did, it?s about six foot three square; lots of room to spread out in, bloody lonely though, ?snap out of it? I tell myself, ?that way leads to more weeds and depression?.
I connect my MP3 player into the van sound system and listen to Amazing Blondel?s ?England?, a most relaxing LP/CD to listen to. I had the LP from the seventies and bought the re-mastered CD from the artists when they were at ?folk off the pier? at Cromer. To further ease my way into the weekend the kettle starts to whistle as ?Seascape? begins and the first drops of rain patters onto the awning, oh well, two out of three isn?t too bad. Sitting in the awning with a goodly large mug of steaming Yorkshire tea, I think back over the last twenty three years, here for all but one or two Sweeps, I have danced, played, or drummed for six, no seven sides, I prefer border and molly and am not so keen on northwest, this means that whilst I may well only know thirty or forty people?s names I am on nodding terms with a hundred or more, that?s the sort of company I will appreciate this week-end, and there should be a sing-around or open awning somewhere on the field every evening.
The rain sounds as though it?s getting heavier so I glance up from my Kindle to check and see someone walking slowly along the row of vans and tents as though looking for somebody or another. Female and in her twenties, dark hair pulled back into a very long pony tail, not a great deal of make-up although not too easy to tell in the diminished light, this coupled with her dark clothing makes accurate estimates difficult. She is about five foot six or seven and slim but with a figure, black short coat tailored in to the waist and flaring over her hips, black or navy trousers, black shoes with a slight heel, office girl, secretary, estate agent? Nosey, curious or just trying to help, ?Do you need any help?? I ask and she jumps as though I poked her in the ribs.
?No thanks, I?m waiting for my boyfriend, he?s bringing the camping stuff and we arranged to meet along here about an hour ago, assuming the traffic on the M11