A village celebrated February 29 by declaring itself an independent country. International traveller Erik Petersen left the UK and journeyed to the heart of Morton...

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PERHAPS unsurprisingly, the plan to turn the Notts village of Morton into an independent country was first hatched in the pub.

Publican Rebecca White wanted to find a way to celebrate February 29.

"I was desperate to do something for the extra day," she said. "I get excited when there's an extra hour in the day. An extra day – it's too much."

As it happened, Paul Mann, a regular at the Full Moon pub and, briefly, Lord Chief Justice of Morton, had been reading up on local history.

And so it was that a band of secession-minded Mortonians drafted a letter to the Lord Lieutenant of Notts, invoking "the Liberties granted by King Edwy in 956 to the 15 square miles of this part of the County that included this Manor."

King Edwy had apparently cut a deal with Southwell back in the day that pretty much granted autonomy as long as they kept a standing army in case the crown needed it.

"Also, we had to maintain bridges," Lord Chief Justice Mann said. "Of which, we have none."

And so it was that yesterday a band of patriotic Mortonians raised the Morton flag, sang the Morton national anthem (read the lyrics here)and demonstrated the recently created Morton national dance to celebrate their newfound nationhood.

A newfound nationhood that swiftly ended, as it was only for February 29.

But even if you've only got a country for a day, you need to do a few things. The Mortonians adopted their own currency, the groat. Yesterday the sterling-to-groat exchange rate was roughly 1-to-1, good value for tourists from Britain. A notice hanging on the wall in the Full Moon also listed all members of the Morton Cabinet, including Will Gardner.

Mr Gardner was dressed in white sailor's cap and orange life vest, as befits the Admiral of the Morton Navy. It was a post for which he was uniquely qualified.

"I'm the only person in the village to have a boat," he said.

Shortly before the raising of the standard, Lord Chief Justice Mann sidled up beside the Admiral.

"Is the tide in or the tide out?" the Lord Chief Justice asked.

"I'm tired out, yes," said the Admiral.

They stood with Secretary of State for Telecommunications Ted Ward and national Town Crier Bob Vickers next to the Morton Civic Centre, a renamed red phone box across Main Street from the pub. Like most Mortonians, they wore the recently agreed-upon Morton national dress, which relied heavily on polka dots and comedy hats.

There was a serious element to this fight for freedom – they were raising money to have a defibrillator installed in the phone box. In a rural village with the nearest hospital miles away, a defibrillator can save lives. But the tone was one of patriotic celebration as Mr Vickers led the national celebration.

"We shall now be raising the Morton standard," he announced in Main Street just after midday.

"Oh, when this van goes through."

Then came the national anthem followed by the national dance, which was performed by much of the Cabinet and looked somewhat like Morris dance mixed with comedy pub brawl.

Later in the day came events including a tea party for the children and live music from one of the country's biggest rock acts (a village teenager has a band).

The Mortonians also wished to make clear that, independence or not, they held no ill will towards the Queen in the year of her Diamond Jubilee – after the national anthem, they offered Elizabeth three hearty cheers.

They also harboured no militaristic ambitions. Rumours of an illicit uranium enrichment programme are entirely unfounded.

"Not uranium," Mr Mann said. "Treacle, maybe."