back from Whitby Folk Week

Well, we have returned from Whitby; all blogging ceased during Folk Week, because there was simply too much to do! Firstly, tried loads of violins for size and fell in love with the first one that Geraldine Stephenson got out of the back of her van. It's about 100 years old, and comes from France via the Shetlands; it's lovely and has transformed the sound I produce when I play. Then, it was ceilidhs and other assorted related dances every night 'til 1, and up at 8 to go to workshops! Phil and I managed not to annoy quite as many people with our dancing this year, I think we only got things badly wrong about three times, and that was also other people getting it wrong. I'm sorry to have to report there were still a couple of very sour faced people who crossed our paths once or twice during the week. What an amazing week though, and what a brilliant holiday. During folk week, the whole town becomes infused with folk music- all kinds of it, dancing is everywhere, some of it village green type morris dancing, and some more extreme like the Wytchmen- how I wish I got to see them and their exciting band more than just on the first night.
There was an Abba Ceilidh, with the classic tunes done ceilidh band style, and a band formed by Eliza Carthy for the occasion. Her dad Martin played the electric guitar for the occasion, all the band and the caller, Martyn Harvey dressed up 70s disco style. It was excellent, and Phil and I managed to join in quite a few dances without stuffing them up. It really is an incredible feeling dancing with about 500 other people, holding hands and swinging each other about. I'm going to avoid the polka in future though, it's dangerous, as the young people tend to charge about manically and I received a polka related injury when Phil and I, too, were charging about in a rather stupid way and collided with another couple; well, they were dancing crazily too and collided with us. I fell flat on my bum right in front of the band. The band Pete Cooper, my fiddle guru was playing in. Embarrassing as well as painful.
The last night was especially moving. They had a ceremony that we hadn't noticed last year to do with a 'heather garland.' It was brought in serenaded by the Goathland Plough Stots. Early in the evening, children were all encouraged to take a sprig of heather, and then later the adults. Before we took a sprig, everyone sang 'Will ye go Lassie Go'. It was very moving, probably about 5-600 people there, maybe more, all singing gently together. Lots of not very dry eyes in the house as a result. The heather is supposed to bring us back next year. I don't need heather for that, but took some anyway.