Some more on the Dartmoor Folk Festival

[As I mentioned before I really love this small and eccentric festival.  It is held in South Zeal,on the edge of Dartmoor

The field before the crowds gathered at Dartmoor Folk Festival 2001.  Some of these photos are by me, some by my wife Lunar Hine - Please accredit one or other of our blogs if you wish to use them.

They help keep alive a number of local traditions. One is the local Step Dancing.  I have come across mentions of this happening in the farmhouses around Dartmoor back into victorian times, and I haeve no dobt there would have been local dance tradition before this.

The winner of the youth section of the step dancing competition 2011

I missed the main competition (I have witnessed it before - preformed on a cart top, with the musician playing a small concertina facing away from the competitor so that he does not favour one person over another. Men and women compete. In the crowd old ladies sit and mutter to each other about how well - or not - a competitor is doing.  It seems they are permitted to bring a bit of their own style in, but if they are seen as going too far into some more mainstream form of tap dancing they frowned on).

 

This video is on its side - sorry!

All I saw this year was the two winners, the adult and the child's category, preforming their dances. Unfortunately it was at very short notice, so soft shoes where used instead of hard.

And this one...  Oh well - the adult winner

The Step Dancing Memorial Cup

The Bob Cann Shield for step dancing.  I am not sure whether this or the cup is for adults...

Talking of shoes - one year I saw a dance off in the Kings Arms for a pair of shoes at this festival - in the corner rumored to be the domain of a Devon gypsy family - it is always full of musicians and dancers anyway!

The winner of the broom dancing took center stage, surrounded by her fellow competitors. This year the fashion for stripy socks added to the display!

Another competition is the children's broom dancing - another local tradition. This year it was almost all girls, and the brooms where decorated. This is a good dance, though it seems to have only one form that is repeated. Personally I would like to see a few adult broom dancers, and maybe an evolving tradition to run alongside the fixed dance - there is a lot you could do with a broom.

The broom dancing shield, 1991-2011 so far, first presented by the Exeter Morris men and Bob Cann - the founder of the festival.

The winner of the Broom dancing championship also wins the years broom - later the girl who won was seen proudly carrying it around the village.  The mini broom has the newish colours of Devon on it (they actually relate to the county sports teams, lord Exmouth and the lush hills and granite of the area, as well as Westcountry saint Petroc.

Morris dancers also abounded, much to the pleasure (and occasional fear) of my litle daughter. She was fine when they danced, even growling and laughing at them when they rushed at us with sticks, but when they milled around unchaperoned by the music she got a little anxious, espesially at the ragged, flower headed, blacked out faced Exmoor Morris Dancers.

Dartmouth?? Morris

Also present where Dartmouth? Morris and Lodestone Morris.  I think there was also one of the genuinely old sides from Oxfordshire that never died out.

Lots of beer was drunk and music played.  Only later was I aware of the irony that while around England young people where drinking heavily and wielding big sticks (baseball bats and truncheons) in the rioting and looting that was happening in the poor areas of our cities here on Dartmoor everyone was actively turning up to watch people hit each other with sticks and drink far, far, far to much...

Sticks and drink - a tamer sort of riot...

Music was everywhere.  This man was from Lodestone morris, and showed me a penny whistle that could be played in only one hand...

Most of the Morris dancing was in the streets and by the pub, but at the end of the day they came on to the main arena. Ths is Lodestone Morris again.

Exmoor Morris dancing again. This group made a big thing about having come sooo very far, from foreign lands... Exmoor...

My daughter learning to walk and dance to the music. She and the other small children saw the dance floor as the place to be, and between dance acts nobody stopped them charging around to the sound of the accordion.

Finally the intimidating Minehead Sailors Horse (a hobby horse) did its wild dance and 'bumbped' its unsuspecting victim...

 The only things I have to add that I can remember was about the stalls - many where stuffed with local crafts - jewelry, prints, bee products...  The one that stuck most in my mind was sett up for one day only. in the street outside the festival, under the bunting, a small boy stood at a workmate with a hammer, chisel and some pots of paint. He has been there a few years that I have been. He had mined some rusty used horseshoes out from behind a barn on his parents farm and did them all up smart. A sign proclaimed "Lucky Devon Horseshoes". Next year I will photograph his wheres.

That reminds me - on the bus through Drewsteinton I noticed three old horseshoes, all toe down, on the same barn door. They had been painted over many times. A very lucky barn I think, considering the folkloric power of three.]

Barnstaple Fair - a song - (part 4)

Fairground ride - By Iantresman (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

[cont...] "...King George the Third rode out to Staines the hounds to lay the stag on,
But that was.no great things of sport, for mighty kings to brag on,
The French, alas ! go a la chasse in von po shay and pair,
But what's all that to Button Hill ? To Barnstaple Fair?

For we will all a-hunting go, on horse, or mule, or mare, Sir !
For everything is in the field to Barnstaple Fair, Sir!
To Button Hill, whose name to all the sporting world sure known is,
Go bits of blood, and hunters, hacks, and little Exmoor ponies ;

When lords and ladies, doctors, passons, farmers, squires prepare,
To hunt the stag with hound and horn to Barnstaple Fair,
Then up and ride for Chillam Bridge, or on to Bratton town, Sir,

To view the rouse, or watch the Yeo, to see the stag come down, Sir !
 

There's nothing else in jollity and hospitable fare, Sir!
That ever can with Barnstaple in fair time compare, Sir!
And guests are very welcome hospitality to share, Sir!
For beer is brew'd, and beef is bought to Barnstaple Fair, Sir !..." [cont....]
 

 

Hewett 19000

 

Devon / Westcountry Weather by season or time of day

Winter at Chagford - "Slippy, Drippy, Nippy" - If you want to use my photo please attribute this blog.

"'Twixt twelve and two,

Will shew what the day will do.

Autumn is wheezy, sneezy, freezy ;

Winter is slippy, drippy, nippy ;

Spring is showery, flowery, bowery ;

Summer is hoppy, croppy, poppy."

Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore - Plant lore and the weather

Beans in Flower - if you want to use my photos please attribute this blog.

"When beans are in bloom brew not your ale.

When elder is white, brew and bake a peck.

When elder is black, brew and bake a sack.

When the sloe-tree is white as a sheet, sow your barley whether it be dry or wet.

Ash before oak, there will be a soak,

Oak before ash, there will be but a splash."

Hewett 1900

Lucky in Devon - 16

Some rights reserved by ckaroli

It is lucky

To rest bars of iron on vessels containing beer in summer. They prevent "souring of the liquor" in thundery weather.

Lucky in Devon - 15

Brewing in Devon - Some rights reserved by supermoving

It is lucky -

"To throw a pinch of salt into the mash when brewing, to keep the witches out."

Hewett 1900

Dream Oneiromancy in Devon

Dreaming of Beer... - If you wish to use  my photos please attribute this blog.

"Oneiromancy is the art of interpreting dreams. This kind of divination is still in use among the masses, and has been practised from the most remote ages. In rural districts there are to be found ancient dames whose interpretations of dreams are looked upon with reverence, and are a source of revenue to the old women.

At breakfast, it is not uncommon for members of of a family to narrate their dreams, and seek the elucidation thereof.

"A dream is an ill-arranged action of the thinking faculties during a state of partial sleep, and is but a momentary impression, perfectly natural in its operation; the state of mind which causes it being produced by temporary functional derangement."

If I dream of water pure,
Before the coming morn,
"Tis a sign I shall be poor,
And unto wealth not born.
If I dream of tasting beer,
Middling then will be my cheer
Chequered with the good and bad,
Sometimes joyful, sometimes sad ;
But should I dream of drinking wine,
Wealth and pleasure will be mine.
The stronger the drink, the better the cheer,
Dreams of my destiny appear.

The belief that dreams are indicative or symbolical of coming events is very common among the masses. Some persons look upon dreams as absolutely true mediums of revealing the secrets of futurity."

Hewett 1900

[In her frustrating style I am once again left not knowing what parts of Hewett's work reffer to Devon and what is to do with wider beleifs she picked up else where through books. However in this case I have included it all. Barring the rhyme (which may or may not have been used in Devon) the rest is generic enough to believe it covered Devon beliefs quite well.]

Kingsbridge White Ale

'This is, or was, a great place for the manifacture of White Ale, a beverage once much in favour hereabouts, but now going out of use, and hardly known exept in South Devon. We do not know the secrets of its composition, but it recalls ome of the thin light beers of North Germany, and is said to be good for the stomach-ache.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Piskies in the cellar - part 2

'Our story has especially to do with the adventures of one of the party, John Sturtridge, who, well primed with ale, started on his homeward way for Luxulyan Church-town. John had got as far as Tregarden Down without any mishap worth recording, when, alas! he happed upon a party of the little people, who were at their sports in the shelter of a huge granite boulder. Assailed by shouts of derisive laughter, he hastened on frightened and bewildered, but the Down, well known from early experience, became like ground untrodden, and after long trial no gate or stile was to be found. He was getting vexed, as well as puzzled, when a chorus of tiny voices shouted, "Ho! and away for Par Beach!" John repeated the shout, and was in an instant caught up, and in a twinkling found himself on the sands of Par. A brief dance, and the cry was given, "Ho! and away for Squire Tremain's cellar!" A repetition of the Piskie cry found John with his elfish companions in the cellars at Heligan, where was beer and wine galore. It need not be said that he availed himself of his opportunities. The mixture of all the good liquors so affected him that, alas! he forgot in time to catch up the next cry of "Ho ! and away for Par Beach!" In the morning John was found by the butler, groping and tumbling among butts and barrels, very much muddled with the squire's good drink. His strange story, very incoherently told, was not credited by the squire, who committed him to jail for the burglary, and in due time he was convicted and sentenced to death.

The morning of his execution arrived; a large crowd had assembled, and John was standing under the gallows-tree, when a commotion was- observed in the crowd, and a little lady of commanding mien made her way through the opening throng to the scaffold. In a shrill, sweet voice, which John recognised, she cried, "Ho! and away for France!" Which being replied to, he was rapt from the officers of justice, leaving them and the multitude mute with wonder and disappointment.'

Hunt 1903

Village of Beer

Beer from the sea

'The village of Beer, once a nest of smugglers...'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Smugglers still at Beer?

 Map - Beer

How Tom and Jack found tin, part 5

[cont. '...The brewer of Market-Jew was also mayor, and, as it appears, tin-smelter, or tin merchant. To him, therefore, Tom went with his black tin, [c] and received not only his cask of beer, but such an amount of golden coin--all of it being a foreign coinage--as convinced him that Jack had not deceived him. This brewer is reputed to have been an exceedingly honest and kind-hearted man, beloved by all. It was his practice, when any of the townspeople came before him, begging him to settle their disputes,--even when they "limbed" one another,--to shut them up in the brewery-yard, give them as much beer as they could drink, and keep them there until they became good friends. Owing to this practice he seldom had enough beer to sell, and was frequently troubled to pay for his barley. This brewer, who was reputed to be "the best mayor that ever was since the creation of gray cats," gave rise, from the above practice of his, to the proverb still in daily use, "Standing, like the mayor of Market-Jew, in his own light."

The mayor was always fat and jolly. He was an especial favourite, too, with the Lord of Pengerswick, who is believed to have helped him out of many troubles. He had bought his tin of Tom and Jack, such a bargain, that he resolved to have some sport, so a barrel of beer was broached in the yard, and the crier was sent round the town to call all hands to a "courant" (merrymaking)....' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

How Tom and Jack found tin, part 4

[cont.] '...They carefully examined this, but found nothing. At last Jack, striking the back of it with his fist, was convinced, from the sound, that the wall behind it was hollow. He and Jane went steadily to work, and with some exertion they moved the press aside, and disclosed a stone door. They opened this, and there was Jack's hammer lying amidst a pile of bones, evidently the relics of some of old Blunderbuss's wives, whom he had imprisoned in the wall, and who had perished there. Jane was in a great fright, and blessed her good fortune that she had escaped a similar end. Jack, however, soon consoled her by showing her the splendid dresses which were here, and the gold chains, rings, and bracelets, with diamonds and other jewels, which were scattered around. It was agreed that Tom for the present should be kept in ignorance of all this. Tom awoke, his head full of the tin. He consulted with Jack and Jane. They duly agreed to keep their secret, and resolved that they would set to work the very next day to prepare some of the tin stuff for sale. Tom as yet scarcely believed in his wealth, which was magnified as much as possible by Jack, to bewilder him. However, several sacks of tin were duly dressed, and Tom and Jack started with them for Market-Jew, Tom whispering to Jack before he left the castle, that they would bring home a cask of the brewer's best ale with 'em. " It is a lot better than what Jane brews with her old-fashioned yerbes; but don't 'e tell. her so."...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

How Tom and Jack found Tin, Part 1

'WHEN Tom had fairly thrown the tinkeard in the wrestling match, which, it must be remembered, was seen by the miners of Tregender, at which Tom was much pleased, although he did not express his pleasure, it was settled that Tom was the best man. This was sealed over a barrel of strong ale, and a game of quoits was proposed, while Jane was taking up the dinner. Tom had often wished, but never more so than now, that the green sloping banks against the inside of the castle walls had not been there, that he might have a fair fling of the quoits from end to end of the court. Tom's third throw in this game was a very strong one, and the quoit cut a great piece of turf from the banks, laying bare many gray-looking stones, small rounded balls, and black sandy stuff.

"Look here you, Jack," says Tom; "whatever could possess the old fools of giants to heap up such a lot of black and gray mining-stones against the wall? wherever could they have found them all?"

Jack carefully looked at the stuff thus laid bare, clapped his hands together, and shouted --

"By the gods, it 's all the richest tin!"

Now Tom, poor easy-going soul, "didn't knaw tin;" so he could scarcely believe Jack, though Jack had told him that he came from a tin country.

"Why, Tom," says Jack, "thee art a made man. If these banks are all tin, there is enough here to buy all the land, and all the houses, from sea to sea."

"What do I care for the tin; haven't I all a man can desire ? My lands are all stocked with sheep and horned cattle. We shall never lack the best beef and mutton, and we want no better than our honest homespun."...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Tom, Jane and Jack the Tinker, Part 7

[Part 7] '...The miners satisfied themselves that it was Jane, sure enough, and quietly beat a retreat. Soon was St Ives in a state of excitement, and all Jane's cousins, believing from the accounts given by the miners that Jane was well off, resolved to pay her a visit. These visits worked much confusion in Tom's castle and family. He and his wife quarrel, but the tinkeard is the never-failing friend. All this part of the story is an uninteresting account of fair-weather friends.

Jack the Tinkeard taught Tom how to till his ground in a proper manner. He had hitherto contented himself with gathering wild herbs, -- such as nettles, wild beet, mallows, elecampane, various kinds of lentils, and chick or cat-peas. Jack now planted a garden for his friends,--the first in Cornwall,--and they grew all kinds of good vegetables. The tinkeard also taught Jane to make malt and to brew beer; hitherto they had been content with barley-wort, which was often sour. Jack would take the children and collect bitter herbs to make the beer keep, such as the alehoof (ground ivy), mugwort, bannell (the broom), agrimony, centuary, woodsage, bettony, and pellitory. Jane's beer was now amongst the choicest of drinks, and her St Ives cousins could never have enough of it. Tom delighted in it, and often drank enough to bewilder his senses..." [cont...]

Hunt 1903

Hunt, 1903, miner, Jane, St Ives, Cousin, Tom, castle, Tinker, Jack, Plough, Nettle, Wild Beet, Mallow, Elecampane, Vetch, Chickpeas, Garden, Vegtables, beer,

Tom, Jane and Jack the Tinker, Part 3

The tinkeard took the thorn-stick in the middle, and made it fly round Tom's head so fast that he couldn't see it. It looked like a wheel whizzing round his ears, and Tom soon got a bloody nose and two black eyes. Tom's blows had no effect on the tinkeard, because he wore such a coat as was never seen in the West Country before. It was made out of a shaggy black bull's hide, dressed whole with the hair on. The skin of the forelegs made the sleeves, the hind quarters only were cut, pieces being let in to make the spread of the skirts, while the neck and skin of the head formed a sort of hood. The whole appeared as hard as iron; and when Tom hit the tinkeard, it sounded, as if the coat roared, like thunder. They fought until Tom got very hungry, and he found he had the worst of it. " I believe thee art the devil, and no man," says Tom. "Let 's see thy feet before thee dost taste any more of my blood."

The tinkeard showed Tom that he had no cloven foot, and told him that it depended more on handiness than strength to conquer with the single-stick; and that a small man with science could beat a big man with none. The tinkeard then took the clumsy bar of the gate from Tom, gave him his own light and tough blackthorn, and proceeded to teach him to make the easiest passes, cuts, &c. Whilst the two men were thus engaged, Jane had prepared the dinner, and called her husband three times. She wondered what could be keeping Tom, as he was always ready to run to his dinner at the first call. At length she went out of the castle to seek for him, and surprised she was, and--if truth must be told--rather glad to see another man inside the gates, which no one had passed for years. Jane found Tom and the tinkeard tolerable friends by this time, and she begged them both to come into dinner, saying to the tinkeard that she wished she had something better to set before him. She was vexed that Tom hadn't sent her word, that she might have prepared something better than the everlasting beef and pease; and vowed she would give him a more savoury mess for supper, if she had to go to the hills for a sheep or a kid herself.

At length the men were seated at the board, which groaned beneath the huge piece of boiled beef, with mountains of pease pudding, and they soon got fairly to work. Jane then went to the cellar, and tapped a barrel of the strongest beer, which was intended to have been kept for a tide (feast). Of the meat, Tom ate twice as much as the tinkeard, and from the can of ale he took double draughts. The tinkeard ate heartily, but not voraciously; and, for those days, he was no hard drinker. Consequently, as soon as dinner was over, Tom fell back against the wall, and was quickly snoring like a tempest. His custom was to sleep two or three hours after every meal. The tinkeard was no sleepy-head, so he told Jane to bring him all her pots and pans which required mending, and he would put them in order. He seated himself amidst a vast pile, and was soon at work. The louder Tom snored, the more Jack rattled and hammered away at the kettles; and ere Tom was awake, he had restored Jane's cooking vessels to something like condition..." [cont...]

Hunt 1903

Part 1 of Tom and the giant Blunderbus

[part 1] 'YOUNG giant, who does not appear to have been known by any other name than Tom, lived somewhere westward of Hayle, probably in Lelant. Tom would eat as much meat as three men, and when he was in the humour he could do as much work as half a dozen. Howbeit, Tom was a lazy fellow, and spent most of his time wandering about the parish with his hands in his pockets. Occasionally Tom would have an industrious fit; then, if he found any of his neighbours hedging, he would turn to and roll in all the largest rocks from over the fields, for "grounders" [b] This was the only work Tom took delight in; he was won't to say, he could feel his strength about such work as that Tom didn't appear so very big a man in those days, when all men were twice the size they are now. He was about four feet from shoulder to shoulder, square built, and straight all the way down from shoulder to cheens (loins).

Tom's old mother was constantly telling her idle son to do something to earn his food, but the boy couldn't find any job to his mind for a long time. At last he undertook to drive a brewer's wain, in the hope of getting into plenty of strong drink, and he went to live in Market-Jew, where the brewery was. The, first day he was so employed, he was going to St Ives with his load of beer, and on the road he saw half a score of men trying to lift a fallen tree on to a "draw." It was, however, more than the whole of them could do.

"Stand clear!" shouts Tom.

He put his hands, one on each side of the tree, and lifted it on the "draw," without so much as saying "Ho!' to his oxen, or looking behind him. The feat was performed in Ludgvan Lees, and a little farther on was a giant's place diverting the road, which should have gone straight to St Ives but for it. This place was hedged in with great rocks, which no ten men of these times could move. They call them the Giant's Hedges to the present day. There was a gate on that side of the giant's farm which was nearest Market-Jew, and another on that side which joined the highway leading on to St Ives. Tom looked at the gate for some time, half disposed to drive through, but eventually he decided on proceeding by the ordinary road. When, however, Tom was coming back from St Ives with his empty wain, his courage screwed up by the influence of some three or four gallons of strong beer which he had drunk, he began to reason with himself thus

"The king's highway ought not to be twisting and turning like an angle-twitch. [c] It should go straight through here. What right has the giant to keep his place closed, stopping honester men than he ever was longer on the road home? If everybody were of my mind, the road would soon be opened. Faith, I'll drive through. He wouldn't eat me, I suppose. My old mammy never told me I was to come to my end that way. They say the giant has had scores of wives. What becomes of them nobody can tell; yet there are always more ready to supply their place. Well, that 's no business of mine. I never met the man to make me turn back yet; so come along, Neat and Comely," shouts Tom to the oxen, opening the great gate for them to pass through. On went Tom, without seeing anything of the giant or of anybody else, except the fat cattle of all sorts in the fields. After driving about a mile, Tom came to a pair of gates in a high wall, which was close to and surrounding the giant's castle...'

Hunt 1903