May 1st 1999 promised to be a good day. The previous two days and evenings had been bright and sunny, so we hoped for a spectacular sunrise across Kentwell and Stansted.
By tradition, we gather at Park Farm at 4. 30 a.m.,
just as the first light is showing in our Suffolk sky. So it was
this year. The beautiful songs of skylark, thrush and blackbird
suggested the birds were more awake than some of the dancers:
Our hopes for a brilliant sunrise were dashed by the heavy mist which had settled over the Glem, but the gloom brought its own beauty to the surrounding trees and buildings:
Undeterred, and positively revelling in the pleasures of an early morning, we ventured out into the mists.
(Who wrote this meretricious rubbish, anyway?) Ed.
The dancing continued for an hour or more:
The Squire was missing. Instead his alter ego made a surprise appearance, to supervise and root out apathy.
There was one note of discord. Someone noticed that John Aldous was wearing brown shoes.
But he quickly explained that he must have trodden in something nasty, so that was ok.
The dancing being done, only the music was left to linger over the valley 
This was duly consumed:
Meanwhile, Neville looked on with critical eye.
To cap it all, Peter then announced his forthcoming marriage to Maureen. What better way to finish off another magic May Day Morning? Well done both of you.
