Great day in Durham yesterday; we set off as early as humanly possible from Fleetwood with Ross at the healm and after the 3 hour haul we pulled up in the rowing club car park around midday. Always a braw saunter along the river into town via the bandstand & the Durham Cow bronze, savouring the views of cathedral, castle & prison that were once my every day landscape! Then over Baths Bridge and along to Elvet Bridge which was thronging with punters watching the lively morris dancers below - for me the only low point of the day on account of their blackend faces. We've been through this before on Mudcat in considerable depth (HERE for example) - but seeing this fatuous display of bogus tradition & reactionary fakelore quite frankly depressed the hell out of me. Amazing what sort of racist bullshit you can pass off in the name of the folk heritage; I dare say the BNP would have been proud!

Moving swiftky on, a quick survey of the Green Men carvings in the cathedral sharpened our appetites which we assuaged at Subway (thus eschwing Durham's fine home-grown eateries) before heading off suitably refreshed and fortified to the Dun Cow where we arrived around 2 to find Dave Myers' singaround in full swing. Good to see so many old faces & hear so many old songs with everyone in fine voice; rather like coming home really - a rare old family gathering! As we pointed out, Rapunzel & I got together at the Durham Folk Party in 1999, prior to which we'd both been part of it since the beginning, off and on, so joining in the chorus of (say) Frank Williamson's masterful rendering of William Mitford's (1788-1851) Cappy; or the Pitman's Dog (to give it's full title) is truly to find renewal through tradition. Thanks all.

Around 4 we segued into our Ballad Session, in the same room. Naturally the numbers thinned somewhat but we still had fourteen fine singers. I kicked off with a 2-verse ballad (just to prove they didn't all have to be 92 verses) after which Rachel & I brought The Housecarpenter home. Ross evoked the reek & riot of the bothy with Sleepytoon, and David Walkaboutsverse essayed Young Emma with typical dignity. John 1 gave us a truly sublime Rosemary Lane (a song I hadn't heard in years), and Richard took into the wild border territory with Parcy Reid - an hour o' the gloamin' grey, and a mighty rendering besides. Frank Williamson give us Marla Hill Ducks; Imprisoned for Tresspassing by Tommy Armstrong, one of the finest ballad writers in the tradition, after which we were truly blessed by Ian McKone with his Shearin's No' For You. Peter delivered a chilling wee tale from Friesland (having already done his bi-lingual Twa Corbies in the singaround) and Scowie picked up the spooky baton with an equally chilling poem on the subject of Hallowe'en. Oo-er, but hey, how rare it is to in such company! Charlotte's Bold Sea Captain was simply perfection, as ever, and John 2's Doctor Who Lived in Catown (?) was a tale of wonderful treachery well worth the wait! And not a Dalek in sight... John 3 gave us Kilkenny Island which fits the ballad remit in telling the story through a series of letters, and the saintly though thoroughly famished Ian McCulloch won the invisible prize of the afternon with a ballad telling of The Rennys Lane Murder.

I won't go round a second time. I think we were meant to be there an hour but it was after six by the time we headed back into town for a fine repast of reduced-price sarnies from the new Tesco (formerly Woollies) in the market place, watching the lads and lasses in their crepusclar glad-rags, including a particular lively Hen Party, whilst reflecting on the ongoing nature of folklore. Supper being done, it was back the Dun Cow for Dave Howdon's singaround. Nice to see Jane Armour there, and I'm sure Matt was in all our hearts along with other absent friends as voices were raised along with the roof! That's a rare sound to be sure; the non-folkies (and a few Americans) at the bar were visibly impressed. Alas we had to slope off at the interval for the long drive home across the Pennines through the rain and mist, with a very spooky moon in evidence on the A66, arriving home around 2 in the morning completely knackered, but joyous all the same after a damn fine day in Durham, blackfaced morris dancers notwithstanding!

So - thank you one and all and see you all again next year? Let's jolly well hope so!