Bells, sticks and hankies in Hertfordshire since 1972.
A faded poster can tell you more about a Morris side than a polished history ever could. We dig into St Albans Morris Men’s old programmes, handwritten dance lists and minute books — and explain how you can help keep that paper trail alive.
St Albans Morris Men began in 1972, but the ground beneath the side was already well trodden. This is a look at the Hertfordshire folk threads, revival books and public-house traditions the founders inherited — and why the side has never pretended to have invented any of it.
Dogs, prams, pint glasses and one determined cyclist: the crowd around a Morris side has its own unwritten rules. A practical, slightly tongue-in-cheek guide to the living semicircle — and how dancers and organisers keep it safe without flattening the fun.
A Morris night looks simple from the pavement: bells arrive, sticks clash, pints are raised, everyone goes home. From behind the bar, it is a different dance entirely. We asked St Albans landlords what hosting a side really involves — and what dancers and pubs can both do better.
Drive twenty minutes in almost any direction from St Albans and you'll pass through towns with the same kind of high street, the same kind of green, and no Morris side at all. It's rarely about talent or appetite. Here's the practical, unglamorous infrastructure that keeps bells ringing in one place and quietly fades in the next — and what St Albans Morris Men still needs to keep going.
A square of white cotton looks like laundry until the music starts. We trace the Morris handkerchief from court accessory to essential kit, hear from long-serving dancers about favourite squares and field losses, and explain why the cloth is waved rather than simply held.
Morris dance names can sound like riddles, pub jokes or old field notes — and often they are all three. We pick through titles such as Bacca Pipes and Bean Setting to see what they reveal about memory, place and the versions a side like St Albans Morris Men chooses to keep dancing in 2026.
Burst mode won't save you — Morris rewards the photographer who bothers to learn the figures. A friendly guide to shutter speeds, sightlines and St Albans light, plus the etiquette that keeps you welcome at the next pub stop.
A missing dancer doesn’t have to mean a cancelled stand. Behind every St Albans Morris Men outing is a quiet system of shadowing, swapping and squeezing the set — and it says a lot about how any community group can plan for the unexpected.
A melodeon can drown out most things, but it cannot drown out teamwork. Here is how St Albans Morris Men read nods, stick taps and a raised hanky mid-dance — and what spectators can watch for when the next set begins.
A St Albans primary school gym, a box of short sticks and thirty pairs of bells: what actually happens in a 45-minute Morris workshop? We look inside our 2026 schools programme — and why passing on the tradition means letting children have a go, not putting it behind glass.
A Saturday morning of Morris dancing can look beautifully free: bells, sticks, a patch of pavement and a few tunes. Behind the hankies, though, is a real annual budget covering insurance, hall hire, kit repairs, fuel and more. Here is a plain-English look at how the money works for St Albans Morris Men in 2026.
Heading to your first St Albans Morris Men public dance? Here’s a warm, practical guide to applause, photographs, curious children, muddy dogs and the questions worth asking when the bells fall silent.
Most photos of St Albans Morris Men are taken on home ground, but the side's calendar is stitched together by early starts, guest spots and return invitations. Here's what an away day actually involves — and why the road matters to the tradition.
The festival season is over, the hankies are folded away and the evenings are dark by half four — which makes it the perfect moment to look inside a Morris side's workshop months. Here's what St Albans Morris Men get up to between the last autumn dance and the Boxing Day bells.
Morris dancing can look like a wonderfully chaotic business — bells, sticks, hankies and a fiddle all going at once. Behind the noise, though, a side has a few traditional jobs that keep everything moving. Here is a plain-English guide to the squire, bagman, foreman, musician and fool, and how a Hertfordshire side like St Albans Morris Men actually gets things done.
A British forecast can turn a carefully planned dance-out into a pub gathering in minutes. This is how the side weighs up wet steps, soggy hankies and safety, how you can check for changes, and why calling off a stand is part of keeping the tradition going.
Every dance-out ends with a rattle of coins and a quiet question: where does it all go? Here is how St Albans Morris Men choose charity partners, cover the real costs of keeping a side on the road, and why your spare change is only one way to help.
Thinking of asking St Albans Morris Men — or another local side — to dance at your wedding, village fete or festival? This no-nonsense guide covers the questions to ask, the space you need, the timing that works and the small details that turn a good booking into a great one.
From the postcard-perfect green beside St Albans Cathedral to supermarket car parks and commuter station forecourts, the side has never been fussy about a stage. Here is a lively tour of the places where the bells have rung — and what those spots say about a changing city.