A True English Experience: Ale and Morris Dancing

I got back from Berlin late Friday night, woke up Saturday morning and was accosted while half asleep in the kitchen by darling Reggie who had arrived from Madrid while I was away to celebrate her birthday! I threw on clothes and was suddenly at St Pancras train station with a ginger ale and McDonalds breakfast (first I’ve had in LIGHTYEARS) on our way to Rochester of all places, to watch a day of Morris dancing and folk music, of all things!


Look at the little English town! Ye olde English, with flags and many many pubs.

    

Lots of silly hats, one of which I got to try!

   

Above from left – Susi’s ale face (waaay too bitter); one of the marquees with the kegs and interesting names, and a street stall selling ye olde pewter tankards!

   

Look! The building’s on a lean, that isn’t my photography skills. And an actual town cryer! I didn’t understand a word he was saying, but one of the English guys who was with us translated it roughly as saying God Bless Kate Middleton and he’d had too much to drink. In cockney rhyming slang or something similarly unintelligible but fun to listen to.

 

And a casual castle. Next to a cool cathedral. But what a crazy cap!

We had wild boar for lunch, and I got to the point where I enjoyed the taste of ale, (warm and flat…) and then a curry for dinner – as English as it comes with our NZ/Aussie/German/French/English-for-good-luck contingent!
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