Missing Morris men, phew!

That was a strange, muted Boxing Day.

No sleeping in, no hangover from over indulgence because I had to have my mobile phone on hand all night in case of a call from the hospital.

I went in for the morning and spent a few hours with my Mum, my sister and a special friend.

I'd been quite ill overnight and I came home for the rest of the day. I'd been in on Christmas Day too and it was all getting too much.

Robyn and I then had a more typical Christmas - ate too much and made a real effort to finish off the Egg Nog. It may be growing on me.

We watched videos and just chilled. I can't say that it could ever have been a good Christmas but we had a nice quiet day and no phone calls.

I was kicking myself on the drive in to hospital though; I saw Morris Dancers assembling on Datchet Green. Robyn would have loved to see the traditional folk dancing of Boxing Day.

Me? Can't stand it.

Personally I've always believed that it isn't an ancient, pagan dance of Ye Olde Englande.

I think it was made up by some silly people in the 19th century, just to annoy me.

It does.

Still if I'd known I could have taken Robyn.

Neil Harris
(a don't stop till you drop production)

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