About This Morris Dancing

This man is a fool.

As anyone who has followed our progress so far will have seen, the first three days of our Nine Day's Wander have been a real challenge – long days, long distances to cover, variable terrain and increasingly oppressive heat.

I've made a fairly big deal of how I would be taking on the role of the fool. Being a trained clown, sometime jester, and having some knowledge of Morris traditions (as well as a ridiculous outfit), it seemed a good fit for me to take on the Will Kemp role. On top of this, Andy would be really challenging himself, and I felt that I should give myself some kind of handicap to reflect that. So, I would dance along with my companions, I said. Most of the way, anyway. At least some of it.

On our first day I was full of beans and ready for some capering. I capered along the South Bank from the Globe to the bridge. That got me a bit out of puff. I capered across the river. I had to take a little break after that. I capered a little more. We came to Mincing Lane, where I could hardly not do a bit of a jig in front of the street sign. After that, my enthusiasm tailed off pretty sharply.

Will Kemp was a young man, in his prime, when he danced from London to Norwich. He also took a good two or three days rest between each leg, whereas we're doing blocks of three days in row.

Notwithstanding all of this, he must have had, to be frank, the fitness levels of a pro athlete and the willpower to match. Although I keep myself in reasonable shape, I'm not as young as I was and my knees and hips will just not have it.

At this point I've had to re-evaluate what my priorities are for this walk, and the main one has to be supporting my friend as he undertakes a colossally brave journey, keeping his spirits up and helping him out if he gets into difficulty. I can't do that if I can't walk myself.

So, much as it rankles, I shan't be dancing as we progress. I will still wear my cap, ass's ears and jangle my bells to announce our coming, but the dancing has to go.

HOWEVER. I will dance the last leg into Norwich, to the Maddermarket, in honour of the man who inspired us, and if anyone (Morris sides particularly, but I'll gladly jig with anyone) fancies meeting us on the way for a bit of a dance, I'll be most happy to oblige; we'll be making our way via Braintree, Sudbury, Bury St Edmunds, and Thetford. If you're on our route, please get in touch at ninedayswander@gmail.com and we'll try to schedule a stop.

Thanks everyone for the ongoing support; please keep sharing and make a donation if you can.

Tom

Why I'm Doing This: Andy

When I was first diagnosed with MS about three years ago, the doctor rather clumsily breaking the news to me gave the following advice: Don't tell anyone. People will treat you different. My first thought was You mean 'differently'. My second thought was 'You don't know my friends'. How did he expect me to keep a lifelong secret from a group of people intelligent and curious enough at least to ask what the walking stick was for? What could I say? "Oh, I was playing for the All-Blacks, and..."?

So I decided, pretty much then and there, to ignore his advice. Hiding one's condition – especially something as prevalent and misunderstood as MS – helps nobody out. So there's one reason for attempting this foolhardy publicity stunt. Every article, every interview will have to mention the MS and explain a little about it. I get to talk openly about it. And I get to raise money for a charity that, for obvious reasons, I'd like to have lots of money. And I still get to use the All-Blacks line when I'm feeling mischevious.

The other reason is my belief that outside the Comfort Zone is where the magic happens. And right now, typing this, I'm terrified about what I've got myself into. Walking distances is tough for me. My right leg tires and gets floppy until it may as well be a glazed ham for all the good it's doing me. I can trip over the smallest stones in the road. My balance becomes precarious. But I shall nonetheless pack my meds, a pen and some paper, point my eyes towards the horizon, and start walking. How much can you ever know about yourself if you don't ever set yourself challenges?

Why Kemp and the Nine Days' Wonder? Pragmatism. I pondered walking the length of Hadrian's Wall, but both ends of that walk are a long way from Norwich. At least with the Kemp route, as I near the finish line – the wall of the Maddermarket Church – I'll be able to see the smiles of my wife and my friends, and possibly a nice cold bottle of beer. And they're all things worth walking towards.

Thanks for reading this, and for following this challenge. If you've donated money, thanks again. We're already overwhelmed by your generosity. If you haven't yet donated, please consider doing so now: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/ninedayswander. See you on the other side. With blisters.