Weekend in Essex (July 25)
The main reason for this post isn’t to gush about what was an absolutely fabulous night out with my cousin Eve and her husband Graham, though it really was. It’s to say that they live in one of the most gorgeous corners of Essex, just outside Chelmsford. Well worth visiting!
Essex gets a bad rap thanks to TOWIE and its proximity to London and the Hooray Henry brigade. But, like Somerset or Kent, it’s a county people often rush through without stopping. They shouldn’t. There’s beauty here, and some fascinating traditions.
Case in point: on Sunday we wandered into The Compasses, a little pub in the tiny village of Littley Green, and found ourselves in the middle of an East Anglian step dancing competition, courtesy of the East Anglian Traditional Music Trust.
I’d never seen it before. At first glance, it’s a bit like Dutch clog dancing, but really it’s closer to tap, heels and toes tapping in time to folk songs played by musicians.
It’s easy to poke fun at these old pastimes, but the people keeping them alive deserve applause and get my vote!
Alongside the dancing was another tradition; wooden puppets hanging by strings over a vibrating jig board. Brought over from Italy centuries ago, it’s still performed in pockets around the world.
Back to normal life, well sort of.
This was the second time in a year we’d met Eve and Graham. We’d promised to see more of each other, life’s too short to only have family catch-ups at weddings and funerals. This time we avoided the train chaos experienced last time by driving to their tiny village and staying over.
It turned into a late one.
One day, we might manage a conversation without so much wine, and I might actually remember the deep and meaningful bits. But for now, I’m just happy we make it happen.
The cousins, on my dad’s side are spread far and wide, Suffolk, Somerset, Essex, Spain, London, most are in contact but only via the magic of technology, although my sister has met our cousin Christine recently.
After a bit of fizz, we headed to The Pig and Whistle, a charming spot in the middle of nowhere. Harvesters were working the fields right outside, the view stretched for miles, and the food was outstanding.
Needless to say, it was another hoot, catching up, swapping stories, and remembering times past. We share grandparents who are legends (link) and have uncles and aunts with histories that are, let’s say, varied.
It’s always lovely to catch up with these guys.