Golden Star's 21st Birthday Bash

2001 - 21 Years of Golden Starlets Unite.

The Barford Cock public house is now managed by Peter Turner, the original landlord of the Golden Star when it all started. So it was fitting that this should be the venue of the 21^st birthday party celebration weekend of Golden Star Morris.  Throughout the year a massive campaign was organised to locate ex members who had moved away from Norfolk and many of them duly arrived complete with dusty bells and families.  Golden Star ‘this is your life’ on a grand scale as shrieks of glee and shouts of surprise erupted every time the bar door opened to reveal another member of dancing history.  Sleeping arrangements were made which spread from the garden of  The Cock to the village hall although is was with frustration that anyone ever hit a sleeping bag Friday night as there was so much news to catch up with. 

How can it be possible that after partaking in a goodly dose of  ‘discipline’ (a special home brew made by one of our members) a morris person can pop to life at the first chords of Black Joke?  The dance steps were vaguely recognisable but seemed to progressively improve during Saturday.  Favourite dances were polished up and danced with an interesting flare.  Beer and song flowed in abandon at the bar in-between the showers of rain and then lively interpretations of dance traditions were taken on a tour of neighbouring villages.

Blue Moon Brewery (Pete Turner's brewery behind the pub) provided the party with very good beer in the marquee for the Saturday night award ceremony.  Some interesting facts became general knowledge as trophies were presented.  Did Golden Star really dance waving bras instead of hankies?  Photographic and kit evidence shows the ‘Golden Star Gent's Twirlettes’ (a spin off majorette troup) in yellow mini skirts, high top white socks and beards strutting to the sound of ‘sit on my face and tell me that you love me’.  Dancing with saucepan lids, rhubarb, blow up hammers, sewage rods, railway sleepers all improvised for sticks.  Who corrupted children by teaching them the spanking song which was then chanted at school?  Who walked the plank with his underpants on his head?  Who was the unfortunate and gallant squire who dug the latrine overflow trench?  Who went from London to Norwich accosting every male she happen to meet, not only keeping a diary of the event but having the audacity to publish.  Where is the invisible squire?  The side sported a very progressive child minder who introduced the under age youths of the Golden Star to a selection of night clubs and then the poor young tender souls had to carry her back and put her to bed.

The night progressed with the Golden Star Big Band.  No Golden Star party can be complete without the massive finale bonfire to get warm by, chat around and sink into wind down melancholy. 

And so to Sunday:  On with the bells, down with the tents and back to the business of dancing.  Spaced Out Old Taylor is an endurance test.  The Trunch Truncheon Dance was eye watering.  Being clobbered over the head with a plastic truncheon is not a barrel of laughs after the good cheer of the night before.  A photo call in front of The Cock which included our new horse, Champion (poor old Dobbin’s ashes are in a biscuit tin).  A fond farewell and a promise to meet again in 2022 after 40 years!.