Keeping up traditions

I've always suspected that the English morris man - Homo Janglum - takes himself quite seriously.

He may well have jolly-sounding bells on his legs but several encounters in the West Country as a youngster soon taught me to treat him gently.

For two reasons.

Not only does he often have a big wooden stick in his hand, but he doesn't seem to like it if you treat him as anything other than a cornerstone of English culture.

The summer months see a purple patch of public morris activity.

Hampshire's inns are transformed into a happy hunting ground for men in knee-length trousers and ribboned jackets.

They appear when you least expect.

You can be having a quiet drink somewhere and, out of the blue they're clustered around you - belled up and all jiggy.

When I encounter Southampton's King John's Morris Men members are poised for action outside the Vine Inn in Bursledon.

They gather together, the distant jing, jing, jing heralding the arrival of another of their gang.

They giggle. They josh among themselves like members of an all-male club (which, of course, they are). They swig ale.

Then there are a few quick squeezes of the melodian - not dissimilar to an asthmatic catching their breath - and they begin.

The men bounce and skip as their morris forefathers did in Tudor times, clearly relishing every moment.

There's the rhythmic crack of wooden sticks hitting each other and the exertion brings several out in a sweat.

The origins of morris dancing are hard to pin down because they have, literally, been lost through time though it is thought to have started in medieval times.

Some say the dancing has pagan roots which, as is usual in these circumstances, have associations with fertility.

Others believe they began as courtly dances.

Then there are those who think it's all got something to do with the spreading of the plague.

The choice is, basically, yours.

However, what is known is that the practice had been long-established by Elizabethan times, when Shakespeare mentioned it in several of his plays.

And there's also a reference in the Mayor of Southampton's accounts for May 1 1562 to "so miche gyven to the singers, players and morris dannsers on Maye daye - 3s 4d".

"It's a bit of a mystery," said John Miller, 54, King John's squire or leader.

"It was certainly an ancient tradition and could have roots in pre-Christianity.

"There's a theory that the hankies represent purity and the sticks represent swords."

There are hundreds of dances and groups in different parts of the country have their own styles too.

According to John, what most people see is Cotswold Morris, which is traditionally performed at Whitsun.

"Though even some villages have their own peculiar dance," says John earnestly.

"Back up in Lancashire has a very strange dance which is done by the Coconut Dancers."

According to John the popularity of morris dancing has ebbed and flowed through the years and was on the verge of extinction until the timely intervention of one Cecil Sharp on Boxing Day 1899.

The academic was staying with relatives at Headington Quarry, just outside Oxford when, by chance, he watched one of the country's few remaining groups perform, said to have been penniless labourers forced on to the streets to try to earn a few pennies.

Bowled over at this, by now, rare sight Sharp went on to devote most of the rest of his life to compiling morris dances and tunes.

King John's Morris Men were formed in 1975 through an advert in the Daily Echo, with their first public fixture being the opening of the Itchen Bridge.

The group takes its name from the monarch who, in 1199, granted two charters to Southampton and when designing their costume, they opted for top hats and breeches to show they're urban-based.

Today there are around 25 in the troop, several of whom are original members.

And, obviously, they're all male.

"It's not being chauvinistic. It's basically the belief the dance was always a male dance," maintains John.

So bad luck then if you happen to be female and fancy a go.

The men practise each week between September and April before going public.

"Our first dance of the day is always May 1. We're always there at 5am at the Bargate at sunrise, where we do an hour's dancing."

When not getting up in the middle of the night to do the "Above Bar shuffle", King John's Morris Men are well travelled indeed, visiting France, Germany, Holland, Belgium and Iraq (naturally), where they represented England at the Babylon International Festival.

"We went in 1989, months before the first Gulf War. The Morris Ring asked us if we wanted to go. I said yes and then everyone said 'Where's Babylon?'. Nobody was very sure.

"We danced in the ruins of ancient Babylon in an amphitheatre Saddam Hussein had built on top of some ruins.

"We didn't get much chance to mix with the Iraqi people - we were watched most of the time.

"We still talk about it a lot now and it's 15 years later."

In Hampshire their utter Englishness make them a tourist attraction in their own right, visiting hotels and a Russian cruise ship to entertain visitors.

But it's a source of frustration to John that more is not made of their skills.

"England has a fantastic wealth of traditions with all sorts of thing and we just don't push or appreciate them.

"The Irish always have St Patrick's Day celebrations but what happens on St George's Day?

"The Scots, Irish and Welsh are fiercely protective of traditions and we're not. We tend to think of traditions and people who follow them as quaint eccentrics."

So people do laugh at you then?

"You say that but funnily enough they don't. You might get some yobbos that leap around - but you'd be surprised."

Construction manager John joined the group in 1977.

"There's something almost magical about it.

"Some people that come along pick it up fairly easily, others never really pick it up to be honest.

"People always say: 'Why do you do it?' There's two main reasons for me.

"It's something that our forefathers have decided is important enough to keep going for hundreds of years.

"It's our responsibility to keep it going and hand it to the next generation."

"Most people tend to feel something for it. There's that bit of magic. You feel you have to do it, to keep it going."