May Day Bank Holiday

So it was a gray old bank holiday Monday that found me in Old Leigh to watch the May Day festival. Entertainment was laid on in the form of Maypole dancing by various troops including the local brownies, who valiantly pranced about without to much confusion and much encouragements from assorted family members.

This valiant effort at entertainment was sandwiched between other exciting spectacles, like watching the mayoress crown a half frozen May queen and her two accompanying by now slightly blue May princesses. They did look very pretty sat on their make shift thrown, but I could not help but feel a little sorry for them that the perceived enjoyment of the event did not match up to the reality. They all made an impressive effort to wave at the gathered crowds but nothing could hide their relief when finally they were allowed to leave their post.


We were also entertained with a variety of strangely dressed Morris dances jigging about in a style I have only seen rivaled on the esplanade of Sidmouth during the Folk Festival week. I realise that much is made across Britten of Morris Dancing but I must confess I rarely find myself moved much above mild disinterest by the prospects of watching late middle aged men in knee highs and bells bobbing backwards and forwards. I think it must be a whole lot more fun when you actually participate in it, but what would I know not being said late middle aged man.

The day improved greatly as the weather deteriorated as a rather bizarre group of men started their reenactment of George and the Dragon. They ran slightly to their own interpretation of the story but it was a great performance given with much gusto and great props. Clearly they were having great fun and I found myself shouting and booing in the best pantomime tradition and the rain began to fall from the sky's.

Of course we had the obligatory late middle aged men prancing but they had stick and swords and looked like they meant business so I guess I can forgive them this small misdemeanor.

The day was finished with a quick pint and a bit of lunch in the pub over the railway bridge, nothing to write home about but it was warm and the service quick and pleasant. We walked back along the seafront past the Essex Yacht Club and Chalkwell train station as the sun tried to peek out though the clouds.