A MONTH IN THE LIFE OF… maverick Morris dancer Alex Merry

In May, it’s hankies at dawn for Alex Merry and her all-female dancing troupe

I got into Morris dancing by accident. Several years ago, living in London, I saw an advert for a class at Cecil Sharp House, the home of the English Folk Dance and Song Society. I had a go and loved it. When I moved back to Gloucestershire in 2015, my sister wanted to learn. We now have a troupe of 12 called Boss Morris. I’m the oldest at 41; most are in their 30s. We perform locally and at festivals.

It has taken over our lives. It started as a once-a-week practice, but now everyone is so into it that it can take up much more time. It’s such a good workout – better than a fitness class. When we have a gig coming up, we rehearse up to four times a week.

During lockdown, I danced alone in my garden and now all the neighbours know my secret! When restrictions lifted last summer, we danced in a car park, using the bays to maintain social distancing. It’s easy to stay apart during jigs because they’re solo dances, but harder in sets, where you whizz around each other.

We dance mostly in the Cotswolds Morris style with hankies, wooden sticks and bells. Steve Rowley, a local expert, helped us learn lots of the moves, but we also use books and Youtube. My work as an artist is solitary and still, so practice provides a lively antidote. It feels like we’re a cheerleading team.

We make the costumes ourselves and don’t stick to a style. Most of the group are artists like me – a few of us met while working as assistants for Damien Hirst, so we’re a creative bunch. We’re inspired by 15th-century Morris dancers, who wore bells around their knees and silks adorned with spangles. In the run-up to a gig, we tend to have a production line in one of our studios, making headdresses or mythical beasts from papier-mâché. Our sheep Ewegenie joined us on stage when we danced at the Royal Albert Hall.

Glastonbury 2019 was our biggest gig. We performed with the band Hot Chip during their Saturday night headline act and had an audience of tens of thousands of people. It was bonkers. Our biggest honour was being invited on tour with the queen of English folk music, Shirley Collins.

May Day is a big celebration. We rise at dawn and head for Painswick Beacon, north of Stroud, to dance with the Gloucestershire Morris Men, Stroud Morris and Miserden Morris sides. This isn’t a public performance, which makes it all the more magical. Afterwards, we wash our faces in the morning dew: it’s said to keep you youthful.

Last year, we danced on the Summer Solstice (June 21 this year). It was our first gathering in months. We dyed our hankies with turmeric to mimic the sun and danced on Rodborough Common, south of Stroud, until dusk. We love our local traditions and hope this will become a new one of our own. With festivals cancelled again this year, we will develop more rituals that have meaning for us and that connect us to nature and the turning of the seasons.

Some people thought we were a gimmick at first, but we’re now quite established. It feels like there are more women than men taking up Morris dancing and everyone has been so welcoming. Our outfits might be out there, but our dances are pretty customary. Morris is a living tradition and we’re developing our own style. We hope that in 200 years, people remember the Boss Morris way.