Glory of the West enjoy an active social calendar as well as full programme of morris dancing. We do lots of non-morris related things together, including going for walks, arts and crafts, other dance styles, singing, camping, bodyboarding, eating food and also staying in Youth Hostels together. We recently had our annual Youth Hostel trip, which was in Boswinger, Cornwall this year. One of our dancers, Mary F, enjoyed it so much, she wrote this wonderful poem about it, which really gives you a sense of what we get up to when we’re not morris dancing.
A higgledy-piggledy place by the sea.
Arriving early by the sea,
the sun is out and so are we three,
down to the sand, our lunch we bring,
the water is cold, but in it I swim.
Then back up the hill, to this place that is ours,
with others here now, we unpack the cars.
This higgledy-piggledy place hosts a story,
of a weekend away arranged by us; we are glory [Glory of the west].
The dining room has a view of the bay,
and an enormous stone cross a few miles away!
The route from the kitchen is surprisingly long,
with plenty of doors, and steps to trip on,
so the carriage of food must all be done gently,
by teamwork, which we practice aplenty.
Here, we get doing the things that we do,
like sitting, and talking and helping out sue,
to move around tables and to carry the plates,
the last to arrive find it’s not yet “too late”,
to eat all together, as one amassed group,
the home-made breads, and the cakes, and the soups.
The kitchen is small and is full of fresh food,
and also, of those in an oft jolty mood.
It’s a funny old challenge, to move round and about,
less fun to sort ovens that simply go out.
Here we wash and we dry up the mountains of things,
while avoiding the crossfire of filling the bins.
The sitting room, this is also a squeeze,
when crowded with people, their coffees, and teas [& much STRONGER drinks].
Here jumpers are worn, and jumpers are made,
while along the bright hall there are games being played,
some involve sheep, polar bears from here after;
our ears hear the peel of the subsequent laughter.
If today never ends, we would not be offended,
At its close we plan walking, through scenery splendid,
Here we’ve gathered and rested, or in dens climbed about
so we each drift to bed, as in turn we’re worn out.
The last sneak into bedrooms, holding those fast asleep,
finding night clothes and wash bags, involves planning to creep.
Then, as the light changes, to begin a new day,
I creep off outside to feel part of the bay,
here I get stuck, as I climb a high wall,
glad no one else saw my three stumbles or falls,
But further along, and helped up by a tree,
I scale it, at last, and from there drink my tea.
This new day, it is filled with trips out to explore,
by ascending high cliffs that rise up from the shore,
for some the planned walk is with kites to the beach,
for many the haven of Gorren is reached.
More swimming, then chips, that are shared by the Hubbards’,
Today’s walks involve 3 to 12 miles being covered.
Others explore on trips further afield,
here Truro or a pretty sea village appealed,
one car booked for 2, in the end returns 4,
this arranged by a phone call, on the sunny seashore.
The lone taxi driver the caller did reach,
as she walked her three dogs on the very same beach.
Once returned back together, we arrange the next meal,
the joy of just being here’s lovely to feel,
as we discuss quilting, or books that we read,
or the sewing of bags, or advice that we need.
The lack of good internet’s not a total (duo lingo) disaster,
but limits the disco we had planned to have after.
Still there happens much dancing, both English and French,
the trickiest part is avoiding the bench,
where others play board games in the far corner,
deft musicians play on, the room gets warmer and warmer.
Then bedrooms with bunks are filled up with sound sleepers,
Most lights will turn off, but the green ones are keepers!
The next morning arrives, and so does the rain,
we’re sure it will clear up, by ten, all the same,
It stops; but then, we are faced with a fire,
which involves all escaping, but it’s nothing too dire,
for this being a drill, that’s been merrily planned,
to assemble, and in the cold car park we stand.
Here, before some of us leave, for Eden or home,
there is a group hug and some photos on phones,
Then, with two left behind, the group go out west,
inland we go first, where the shelter is best.
We arrive at a beach where wild waves whip the shore,
before climbing up hills, with steep steps galore.
This walk, although shorter, is in some ways more splendid,
as by trying new things, the group is more blended,
there’s wind on the coast; but it’s good to be in it,
as it moves though one’s sinew and renews one’s core spirit.
The shorter route taken turns out to be muddy,
which some think unpleasant, and some think is funny.
The success of the doing is followed with lunch,
on an assortment of olives and pickles we munch.
Then we wash up, then pack up, then all disappear.
One wonders what else we’ll be doing this year.
Our time may be pulled in a number of ways,
All life feels more precious for this sweet trip away.
Recalling Boswinger: 31st January -2nd February 2025. Mary F 7.2.25
