The Morris Miners

For the final Extreme Morris event of the day we thought we'd go for pot-holing.

There's always been a rumour that the trap-door in the cellar is the entrance to a tunnel that leads all the way to Woburn Abbey. Some say the Dukes of Bedford used to use it when "visiting" village girls in the old days. Some say it's not a real tunnel - just a folk memory of the Mids Beds branch of the Walsingham to Glastonbury Ley Line (calling at Bedford, Oxford, Wayland's Smithy Parkway and Stonehenge Central). While everyone else just says it's dark and they're sure there's spiders down there.

Be that as it may, with torches strapped to their hats among the rosebuds they set off, trembling slightly but determined. They reappeared ten minutes later, white faced and screaming. As they fled, from far off down the tunnel we heard howling. Well - how was I to know that Mrs Rochester was taking my brother and Rosebud the dog for a walk?

It's a shame the Morris People have gone, really. In the way that they have invented a tradition and declared that it's hundreds of years old, they kind of remind me of the neo-pagan movement. Or do I mean the Baptists? No - it's the Oxford Movement. Or the Folk movement. Or maybe it's us...