It was very, VERY, dark.
A figure dressed in a cloak of rags looms out of the shadows.
In near silence ( and the dark. Did I mention the dark?) we followed him up the Giant’s Hill.
At the top we stood, gasping for breath and looking out over the countryside and the village of Cerne Abbas, way, way below
Then, in the distance, we heard them.
The Morris had arrived.
And with them the other mad people who get up in the middle of the night to watch the Morris welcome the dawn on May Day on the Cerne Abbas Giant.
As the Morris side got ready to dance we heard a cuckoo.
Fab sense of timing and occasion.
Then the Morris did their thing
As dawn broke.
And the bell rang in the start of summer
It didn’t rain 🙂
Then it was back down the hill ( a bit easier in daylight let me tell you)
And the arrival of
The Dorset Ooser
A procession into the Village with the Morris playing and dancing.
The villagers, I am sure, were delighted.