Southbank Tour 2008 Blog

The annual Woodside works outing down to the sunny south coast, of the river Thames, took place without any serious loss of limb or personnel, though it was a torrid affair, involving a tussle with the ‘law’, an impromptu bit of filming for ITV, and a hen party whose most important member forgot the bag with her phone and purse in, but remembered the bag with the willies. Woodside Blogger, Dave D, will explain all, but not necessarily to any satisfactory level…

It must be a new me. Not only was I up early to ensure getting to the Belfast for eleven o’clock, but also I got the May Day blog finished and online before breakfast. OK, the blog was ten days after the fact, but none the less, it was a very productive morning for me, particularly with it being a Saturday, when anything before midday is considered late Friday night.

Anyway, blog committed to the interweb, Sugarpuffs committed to the belly and a last minute panic when I can’t find what is left of my hat, then handily remembering that I was supposed to pick it up from Roger’s last Tuesday (and reassuringly realising that Rog, reliable Rog, would bring it along with him), having left it there after May Day breakfast, I went up the junction, to meet Pete and Julie.

It turned out that we weren’t the only Woodies on the train, as we discovered when we got to Euston, and found Dave and Sue P, and their daughter Julia, who is going to be heading off to New Zealand following her finals in a few weeks time (or ago if my blog posting time scales are anything to go by). I guess this must have been a last shot of Morris with which to invigorate Julia’s soul before taking the big leap, the memory of which will no doubt comfort her every moment she is out there. I was particularly impressed when she told be she’ll be skiing near Mount Doom, scene of many a Hobbit misdemeanour, and we hatched plans for a team visit as soon as possible. I understand from Dave P, that Julia is looking forward to seeing the penguins migrating north for the winter.

Anyway, we all huddled together in a Woodside gaggle, keeping close, for protection, now we were in the big city, and made our way to the Northern Line, City Branch, and Saturday afternoon glory.

Arrival at the Belfast was a very gradual thing, the team slowly building up, member by member, WAG by WAG, and tot by tot. It was, in many respects, a visual interpretation of Ravel’s Bollero;  Tim and Jean arriving first, with Jean blowing up Tim’s inflatable rocking chair, and then putting his napkin on him, taking the lid off of his Waitrose Waldorf Salad, and gently feeding him with a silver plated spoon, as they awaited the rest of the team. My party then arrived, and over the next half hour or so, the rest slowly, but purposefully, arrived and prepared to dance. A growing intent was palpable by the crowd, and expectation cut through the air like spring swallows, an atmosphere tantalisingly agitated by the occasional Morris Man standing up to stretch a leg, only to dissapoint by scratching some nether part and sitting down again.  Then, with all the other men ready for action, and in enactment of the very final crescendo, Tim finally stood up, and, unaided by Jean, Whipped off his Woodside jacket to reveal his Baldrics, both ready and able. It was time to dance.

For this first spot of the day, we performed not only next to the Belfast, but also next to a party of school children and teachers from the Czech Republic. They seemed to enjoy the fact that England had some pretty unusual folk customs, and to commemorate this discovery, and to further cement Anglo-Czech Republic relations, we had a few photos taken together to remind us all of the day.

Dancing next to the Belfast was a bit of a treat for me, as visiting it as a wee thing is probably one of my best memories of London, apart from that night at Ronnie Scott’s with the olives, but sadly we had no time to actually get on board and have a look around.Instead, as my tribute to that fine old lady of the sea, I played a couple of rounds of the Sailor’s Hornpipe as a special treat. One or two of the staff in the shop had a bit of a clap along, well, either that, or a wasp had just flown in through the window.

Next, we move on to Hayes Wharf, where we were just about to set up when we are approached by a jovial looking security guard, who radioed for support when we got the sticks out. Sadly, for us, we were asked to move on, as this part of the Southbank is actually private property, and thus, Tim found himself moving on before Jean had even got the napkin on him. The incident was all handled in a very friendly manner, and there was no need for the guard to call on further support from the dogs, as Woodside are a peaceful team who do not like being forcefully ejected from anywhere. We promised that next time we would get in touch with the appropriate authority, and parted as friends.

This, however, did present us with some minor problem, in terms of our time table. Left with time on our hands, some of us made straight for the ‘Ye Olde Thames Inn on the Riverbank’, or something like that, which is opposite the replica of Drake’s ship, the Golden Hinde. Another group, the larger part of us, went to spend this bonus spare time at a large, dance spot sized square in Montague Close, round theback/side/front of Southwark Cathedral. There were two good things that came from this: 1, Wayne found a pub not a spit away that sold delicious cloudy Peri; and 2, ITV were filming for the programme Britain’s Best Dish, and, at that precise moment, they were hot for Morris men – and apart from that, they communicated with us through the medium of a very attractive young lady!

We quickly gathered up the extant members of the team, and got the gang together in order to shout 'Britain’s best dish, so nerrr!' at a camera that was being pointed at us. Sadly, one or two of the guys were convinced that it the programme was actually about the UK's most exemplary fish, though I don't think they would have been heard over the rest of us. Any way, we were then filmed performing Captain Lanoe’s, which went a bit potty towards the end. Oh well, I’m sure they’ll edit the dodgy bits out.

Next, we went on to ‘Ye Olde Thingy, etc.’ for a spot below the Golden Hinde’s replica, or 'B' team mast heads. The chaps who had already sampled the delights of ‘Ye Olde’ were relieved to see that their pints were still waiting for them next to the front door, though one, apparently, was suspiciously just a little bit fuller than it had been when they left.

Anyhow, this was the bit where our more unscrupulous side was demonstrated, as we employed Charlie’s cute kids to collect for the team. We’re not sure if it was the appeal of the little ones, or Charlie walking along behind them with the ubiquitous Morris stick that encouraged the crowd to give so generously, but at the end of the day, I personally am very grateful; it probably means I won’t have to hang around the docks in Watford raising money to pay for the team’s running costs this year!

On to our regular spot near the Globe, where we did our merry dance in a pleasing manner, and without molestation, only to be approached afterwards by a party of ladies, who implored us to perform just one last dance for their friend Alison, for whom they were celebrating a hen party. Dutifully, we got the band back together, and reassembled the dancers, in some cases literally, and put together a Bonny Green Garters to delight. We then celebrated the moment with a quick snap of the party and the Morrismen, though there are only hints of the chaps in the pictures! We then found out that Alison had lost her handbag, though she had managed to hold onto a bag full of willies that was obviously more important to her!! Thankfully, the handbag was rediscovered, and the girls went on to a champagne bar to discuss forming a women’s Cotswold team, and maybe, just maybe, have another drink to the health of Alison and her impending spouse. We never figured out what the bag of willies was for though.

Finally, we headed for the Founder’s Arms, where our tour winds down to the bitter end. Some tired feet manage to muster for a final set of dances before we settle down for beers and a few tunes. There was something in the weather this May day that sapped the strength from everyone dancing, and a few plans to stick around for a late session dwindled as we all realised exhausted we were. If the knacker man had come round with his bailing fork, there would have been a few of us pinged onto his cart for delivery to the yard.

The day had once again been splendid, with plenty more things happening than could be comfortably fitted into this blog, and one of the biggest showings of a Woodside entourage forsome time.

No doubt Julia had seen enough to satisfy her Morris yearning for some considerable time; which is a good thing, as she may not get to see such a day for a very long time. And suitably refreshed, I trust she will not feel too much of an urge to give up the beautiful New Zealand countryside, a bedroom window facing Mount Ruapehu, boating on Lake Taupo, or microliting in the light of an Ohakune sunset, in order to grab another shot of Woodside. I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing her for a while!!

Good luck Julia.

I would like to thank Ed, Julia, Sue and Tatiana for allowing me to use their pictures to help illustrate this page, and more thanks to Ed for capturing the BBD footage on video.

Southbank 2008 Picture Page