It’s 4.30am and I’m circling a hairpin bend, looking for somewhere to park. I’m in deepest Gloucestershire, awake much earlier than usual in search of an event I hope is worthwhile. As I pull into a pitch black car park, so does another car. Two men get out. I can’t see them, but I hear bells jingling, quiet voices and a dog barking in a nearby campervan. I realise the film I’ve brought will be useless if the sun doesn’t cut through the heavy mist in time for the event I’ve driven from London to photograph.
I’ve come to watch a new iteration of an old tradition – Morris dancerslarger than expected. By daybreak, 400 people have made their way through the half-light to watch two local sides, Boss Morris and Miserden Morris, dance their way across Rodborough Common near Stroud.
