I used to do a lot of balloon retrieval (which involves racing around the countryside in a Range-Rover with huge trailer, trying to keep up) so I sort of know about these things. 'What', I hear you groan, 'hasn't the old bastard done?' Well, I haven't tried incest and Morris Dancing yet, but I'll keep you informed if I do. Actually, I've just realised that the first person I shagged was my (female) cousin at an extremely early age - but that is a subject for a different post or, preferably, none at all.
I am not likely to try Morris Dancing though, for reasons that you have probably already had a good guess at. For one thing, it is a late, 19th century invention, and the inventor pretended to be reintroducing an ancient ritual brought over during the Crusades called 'Moorish Dancing'. Bollocks.
Then there is the stupid costume and the waiving of red neckerchiefs whilst wearing white tights with bells around your ankles. Perrleeezz! The music is no better either, but I did have great fun watching an inept troupe hit each other over the head with heavy staffs during one drunken dance outside a pub a few years ago.
The Bath Morris Dancers actually have one black male member which - for some reason - makes me cringe even more than normal as I take a wide berth around the Abbey, trying to avoid them. I haven't seen them for a couple of years - maybe they've all been killed off, one by one? I hope so.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, hot-air balloons. Goodness, is that the time? I've got to go.