Blanford Forum - Sunday Revels

Nelsons Ale House, Blandford Forum - image by Trish Steel [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"It appears from a Sermon made at Blanford Forum, in the Countie of Dorset, on Wensday the 17th of January 157O, by William Kethe, 8vo, that it was the custom at that time for the Church Ales to be kept upon the sabbath-day ; which holy day, says our author, "the multitude call their revelyng day, which day is spent in bulbeatings, bearebeatings, bowlings, dicyng, cardyng, daunsynges, drunkennes, and whoredome," " in so much, as men could not keepe their servauntes from, lyinge out of theyr owne houses the same sabbath-day at night.""

Brand 1813

 

Map - Blandford Forum

Wassail and the worshiping of Heil at Cerne, Dorset

Our Wassail and the wassailing bowl - please attribute this blog if you use this photo.

 

"The following is a note of the same learned writer [Reed, of Reed's Shakspeare] on the Polyolbion, song 9 : "I see," says he, "a custome in some parts among us : I mean the yearly Was-haile in the country on the vigil of the New Yeare, which I conjecture was a usuall ceremony among the Saxons before Hengist, as a note of health-wishing (and so perhaps you might make it Wish-heil), which was exprest among other nations in that form of drinking to the health of their mistresses and friends. " Bene vos, bene vos, bene te, bene me, bene nostram etiam Stephanium," in Plautus, and infinite other testimonies of that nature (in him, Martial, Ovid, Horace, and such more), agreeing nearly with the fashion now used : we calling it a health, as they did also in direct terms ; which, with an idol called Heil, antiently worshipped at Cerne in Dorsetshire, by the English Saxons, in name expresses both the ceremony of drinking and the New Yeare's acclamation, whereto in some parts of this kingdom is joyned also solemnity of drinking out of a cup, ritually composed, deckt, and filled with country liquor," &c.

In Herrick's Hesperides, p. 146, we read,

" Of Christmas sports, the Wassell Boule,
That tost up, after Fox-i'-th'-Hole ;
Of Blind-man-buffe, and of the care
That young men have to shooe the Mare:
Of Ash-heapes, in the which ye use
Husbands and wives by streakes to chuse:
Of crackling laurel, which fore-sounds
A plentious harvest to your grounds."

Brand 1813

 

Map - Cerne

Bandford Forum - A list of Christian Sacrafices - Part 1

Bacon and Eggs - an offering to Christ? - Image from ChildofMidnight at en.wikipedia [CC-BY-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"In a most curious Sermon preached at Blandford Forum, Dorsetshire, Jan. 17, 1570, by William Kethe, Minister, and dedicated to Ambrose Earl of Warwick, 8vo. p. 18, speaking of the Jews, he says, "for the Synnes they daylie committed, they would be very busie in offryng Sacrifices and exercising themselves in Ceremonies;" adding, " a lyke kynde of policie was practised by the Papistes in the tyme of Poperie (in England) to bynde God to forgeve them theyr Sinnes. For whereas, in the tyme of Christmasse, the disorders were marvelous in those dayes, (and how it is now God seeth,) at Candlemasse, which some counte the ende of Christmasse, the Papistes would be even with God, by the tyme [they had offered hym a Bribe, and such a Bribe (beyng a Candle or Taper) as a very meane officer would take foule scorae of, though he could do a man but small pleasure in his sute. Shroft Tuesday was a day of great Glottonie, Surfeiting,and Dronkennes, but by Ashe Wensday at night, they thought God to be in their debt..." [cont.]

Brand 1813

[Jewish (and Catholic) people had a really horrible time in much of old intolerant England - including facing genocide and expulsion - please take this anti-Semitic and anti-Catholic sermon for its folkloric value only.]  

Banning the Wakes in Exeter and Somersetshire

Exeter Morris Men dancing!

"When an order was made in 1627 and in 1631, at Exeter, and in Somersetshire, for the suppression of the Wakes [I think these where Wakes on the night before the parish church's saint day, associated with dancing, music and drink, and the feasting on the day itself], both the Ministers and the People desired their continuance, not only for preserving the memorial of the dedication of their several Churches, but for civilizing the parishioners, composing differences by the mediation and meeting of friends, increasing of love, and unity, by these feasts of charity, and for the relief and comfort of the poor."

Brand 1813

 






  

 

Map - Exeter

Elder's Black - A Proverb from Somerset

"When elder's black brew and bake a sack."  -  Somerset

Ray 1768

[Elderberries turn black about September near us.  Whether you are supposed to bake and brew with the elder, or whether it is a sign that this is the best time for baking and brewing I am not sure. Black Elder berries certainly make an amazing red wine, and I can imagine you might use them in currenty bread, although they would be quite gritty!]

The need for mead - a Somerset proverb

""Little mead little need." - Somerset

(A mild winter hoped for after a bad summer.) "

Ray 1768

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.]

Old Harry

"Eat thy meat and drink thy drink, and stand thy ground old Harry" - Somerset

Collected by Andrew Paschal of Chedsey, Somerset.

in Ray 1768

Bristol Milk

Harvey's Sherry Warehouse in Bristol, by the floating harbour. By Linda Bailey [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Bristol milk.

That is, sherry-sack, which is the entertainment of course, which the courteous Bristolians present to strangers, when first visiting their city."

Ray 1768

Map - Bristol 

Jan Pook, a Moretonhampstead Folksong (part two)

 

Leat on the road between Two Bridges and Princetown - by Tom Jolliffe [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

 

[cont...] "...Es likker 'ad warmed en to that there degree,
That he vailed vast asleep, and his osses you zee,
Forgetting the whip, stapped and grazed 'pon the road,
But how long they bided there nobody knowed.
Jan dreamed 'bout some pixies
And other strange folk,
When the miners corned up,
All alive for a joke.
They unharnessed his osses,
And drove mun away,
Leaving Jan vast asleep
On the porch of the shay.
When the zun in the East wuz beginning to rise,
Jan Pook, half awake,
Vailed to rubbing his eyes.
" Who be I ? Where be I ?"
Zed Jan in a maze :
" Here's a drunken old zun-
Of-a-gun on a shays.
If I be Jan Pook,
I may zay to my cost
A pair of post osses
I've sartinly lost.
If I baint Jan Pook
'Tez a fortinite day,
For I'm burned if I aint
Been and found a post shay."

MORAL.
 

Don't drink wey no miners,
Now mind what I zay,
Don't nivver pull up
To no Saracen's Head,
Spurn alcoholic drinks
Vur the rest of your days,
And you'll not lost no osses,
Nor vind a post shays."

Hewett 1900

Map - Moretonhampstead

Map - Princetown

Map - Saracens Head at Two Bridges

[Pook puts me in mind of Shakespearean Puck, and also of the Puggie stone in Chagford, said to be etymologically mid way between Puck and Pixie - Devonian speakers have a habit of retaining the Olde English ee sound in words -  "Dart-ee-moor" "Chag-ee-Vord", hence the thought that Pixie might be Puck-ee...]

Jan Pook, a Moretonhampstead Folksong (part one)

Leat on the road between Two Bridges and Princetown - by Tom Jolliffe [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"The following, which appeared in a recent number of the Western Morning News, is from the pen of the late Dr. Puddicombe, of Moreton. The subject, Jan Pook, was post boy at the Saracen's Head, Two Bridges, Dartmoor. The poem gives a clear idea of the habits of the convivial souls who inhabit and divert themselves in that neighbourhood.

 

JAN POOK.
 

JAN Pook wuz a post-boy,
The vokes where he stapped
Zed a hardier 'osebird,
There nivver wuz drapped.
He ciide laugh, he cude zing,
He cude smoke, he cude tell,
And whativver he diied,
He alwes diied well.
He wuz loved by his guv'ner,
Samuel Cann,
Of " The White Hart," in Moreton,
A merciful man,
Who trated his 'osses,
And customers, too,
And trated Jan Pook,
When he'd nort else to do.
Jan Pook druv a party
To Princetown one day,
Returning wherefrom,
On his empty post shay,
To the " Saracen's Head,"
He pulled up for a wet,
Refreshment 'es zel
And his osses to get.
Jan drinked wey some miners
Until, as he zed,
The liquor he drinked
Had got into his head.
When he started again,
To his home to return,
What arterwards happened,
You'll presently learn..." [cont...]

Hewett 1900

Barnstaple Fair - a song (part 1)

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

[Barnstaple fair is still in existence.  This is what Wikipeedia has to say about current proceedings -

The ceremonial opening of the fair survives from ancient times. The town council meets in the Guildhall, where various toasts are honoured with a spiced ale which, according to tradition, is made from a jealously guarded recipe handed on from generation to generation. Whilst the toasts are being honoured, "fairings", (a form of sweetmeat) are handed around.

On the reading of the Proclamation a large stuffed gloved hand garlanded with flowers is hung from a window of the Guildhall. The gloved hand represents the hand of friendship and the hand of welcome to the thousands that come to the fair. At 12 o'clock, a civic procession forms at the entrance to the Guildhall and the proclamation is read.

The fair begins on the Wednesday before 20 September each year.

Today the fair consists of rides and amusements located in the car park of the leisure centre.

from - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barnstaple under this license - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Text_of_Creative_Commons_Attribution-ShareAlike_3.0_Unported_License

Barum is and alternative name for Barnstaple.]

"There are several versions of this song extant. A very charming one was a favourite with the late Dr. Stoneman, of Ilfracombe. Many persons remember how he would "bring the house down" with applause when he sang it in the Concert Room, but although I have advertised and tried to obtain a copy from private sources, I have unfortunately failed to get one. I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. Lawrence, editor of the North Devon Herald, Barnstaple, for the following very amusing example :..."  [cont...]

Hewett 1900

The Parson and Clerk rocks of Dawlish

"On the south-east coast of Devon, about twelve miles from Exeter, lies the picturesque town of Dawlish. It possesses a long stretch of sandy beach, which encloses a small bay of the English Channel. At the southern extremity may be seen two rocks, lying a short distance from the mainland, known as the Parson and Clerk. The story of these rocks, as told by the gossips of Dawlish is as follows :
 

A certain bishop of Exeter fell sick, and thinking that the pure air of this charming village would restore his lost energy took up for a time his residence there.

An ambitious priest, whose aim was to succeed to the See in the event of his superior's demise, frequently rode to Dawlish accompanied by his clerk to make enquiries after the condition of the dying bishop. The clerk was usually the priest's guide; but one night, in a tremendous storm, while crossing Haldon they lost their way, and worn out with the long journey found themselves miles out of the beaten track, The priest boiled over with rage. He abused the clerk, and exclaimed " I would rather have the Devil himself, than you, for a guide." At this moment a horseman rode by and volunteered to pioneer them to Dawlish. They thanked him and jogged comfortably along at his side, unmindful of time, distance, or invalid. The storm still raged and the long ride had sharpened their appetites, therefore, as they approached a brilliantly-lighted mansion, they gladly accepted the stranger's invitation to partake of his hospitality. They enjoyed a sumptuous repast, and indulged freely in the good wine provided so lavishly by their host.

In the midst of their merriment news was brought that the bishop was dead. The priest was eager to be off to secure the first chance of promotion, now that the bishop was out of the way. So master and man mounted their steeds and made ready to depart. But the horses were not anxious to go. They were whipped and spurred but all in vain. "Devil take the brutes," exclaimed the priest in his rage. "Thank you, sir," said their host, "Gee up." The horses did "gee up ! "with a vengeance, and galloped madly for the cliffs : then over they went, that of the clerk first, then followed the parson and his steed plump on their backs and there they are to this day looking see-ward (sea), monuments of disappointed ambition."

Hewett 1900

 

Spotting the Devil at Starcross

13th century Illustration of the Devil in the Codex Gigas, folio 270 recto, via wikipeedia

"An old man living in South Devon, once told me that as he was one night returning from Starcross to a farm about two miles off, as he passed Easton Wood he had " zeed the devil hiszel azitting pon tap o' a gaet-pawst. Th' eyes aw'n was like two gert glazing tay sassers, and I urned fit to break my neck till I got purty vur from he," he said.
 

A day or two after this, I met the old man's son of whom I enquired for his father. 

"Aw' mum," said he, "'e idden vitty 'et, a'n't agot awver th' fright he got tuther night. He zeth 'e zeed th' evil wan, up in Easton Wood, wi eyes blazing like a bull's-eye- lantern. He hissed and tissed to 'n. There was hundreds of little devils dancing all about in th' blue hell-flames. Poor old father was that scared that 'e cant tell a 'awk from a 'andsaw (heronshaw). Poor old father, 'e es in a brave fizz 'et."
 

"Yes," I replied, "don't you think if you could persuade him to pass by 'The Ship,' at Cockwood, instead of going in, he would see less of the old one ?" 

"Ess 'm, mayhap 'e widden zee th' dowl again if he stapped gwaine there."

One sees by this, how very different the son's tale was from the father's. The whole thing was wonderfully elaborated, and there is no doubt as it journeyed through the taprooms of Cockwood, Starcross, and Dawlish, it still farther grew in hideousness of detail."

Hewett 1900

Map - Starcross

Seven Years Bad Sex - some very local lore

Me and a pint...  If you want to use my photos please attribute this blog

[Watching US president Barak Obama drinking guiness in Eire I was reminded of a comedic bit of very local lore amongst some of my friends in Chagford - I dont know when it started, but I have known about it for at least 5 years.

Despite being made up (I think) by someone in my group of friends it has persisted and spread, and has roots that dangle freely in the cultural aquifer of our folklore. It has led to very pantomime staring into peoples eyes... It is this -

If you do not look the person in the eyes that you are saying 'cheers' to over a pint you are condemned to seven years bad sex.

Poor Obama....]

A May Day celebration in Devon

[I had great plans for this May Day (or Beltaine, to use the Irish/Scotish/Manx term), but found that having a baby around does not make for complicated festivities...

I did manage to get some May blossom (hawthorn flowers) to decorate my daughters pram as we walked around town, in remembrance of my Granny (from Northamptonshire, not the Westcountry) who used as a girl to carry hawthorn blossoms from house to house on May Day, singing a rhyme my dad can never quite remember... It was a begging rhyme.

The Fire is lit...

Later in the day we went to a basket making friends May Day fire - a huge great conflagration of a years supply of pruning and a barn roof.

It felt like a fitting way to welcome in the flowers and grouth of May.

Old May day songs where sung, drums sounded out and a sunwise circling of the flames was walked with excitement and loud exclamations at the huge serpentine flames.

The flames of May

A little later some knife and axe throwing (at tree section targets) was practiced.

Later, as the flames dropped down to the embers first the bravest of the men, then the bravest of the women and finally the bravest of the children tried to jump the glowing fire, sometimes kicking up sparks in their wake as they landed a little short of the far side.

Hedgerow berry fueled home brew and commercial wines and beers where cracked open and crisps born by insistent children where eaten. I brought out my fiddle and played the Baring-Gould Chagford tune for perhaps its first public Chagford performance in over 100 years...  Soon artist Rima Staines joined in  on the Accordion (or rather carried on - I stopped - too much alcohol on not enough sleep) and then her partner, the story teller Tom Hiron accompanied her on clarinet.

Beautiful patterns my camera was not fast enough to capture

We had to leave then, the little one needing her bed, but the festivities carried on into the night, I imagine in a riot of multi-generational humans and a few teenage dogs. 

Next year, maybe then I can have puppets, masks and a May-pole....]

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