It has been nine months since I wrote a blog. You see, my father died nine months ago. It’s been hard to focus. I’ve been lurching from project to conference paper, from workshop to talks while trying to make sense of this humbling event. I knew Dad was unwell. He knew he was unwell. But in the end it all happened rather quickly and I felt overtaken by people and subsequent happenings that left me high and dry. Gradually I…
Okey Hole. You may know it better as Wookey Hole, a village on the edge of the Mendip Hills, famous for its caves. Long ago it was known for its otherworldly nature. Today it’s one of Somerset’s main tourist attractions. There is little evidence of early human occupation in the caves but the last five hundred years have seen exploration, mining and recreational ‘pursuits’ impact directly, structurally and culturally. This has permanently damaged the delicate infrastructure previously untouched for millennia….
This is a blog about how a18th century map, a 7th century abbess and folklore collection on the 19th century may hold clues about an old processional route across the South Shropshire hills. The ‘Map of the Wastes of Earnstrey’ was made back in 1712 and shows a number of ‘gospel places’ marked at intervals across the top of Brown Clee, the tallest of the Clee Hills in Shropshire. Gospel places are where gospels were read, often local landmarks, to…
Landscapes & coastlines of Britain are inspirational to my exploration of the history & legends of these islands. A visit to a favorite village in Wales provides the perfect canvas…
A hot day in August. I am thinking. I am sitting high upon the Hill with my dog, Dan. Dragonflies and swifts dart over bracken. The gorse is snapping and cracking in the heat. I’m thinking about the fragility, and strength, of ‘tradition’ and the ritual year: how we practice it, how many are aware of it and what importance does it have in todays society? Should we differentiate between ‘quiet’ local customs carried out by families and grand ‘statement’…
A black poplar tree stands beside a little stream in the Shropshire village of Aston-on-Clun. Amongst its boughs bright flags are fluttering in the breeze. Today is Arbor Day, an old tree-dressing tradition when the flags are renewed and the community celebrates their tree. How this tradition came about and for how long is open to question and one I wanted to find out more about. May 29 is also Oak Apple Day, the day in 1660 when Charles II…
And let us do it with no show of fear No, with no more than if we heard England were busied with a Whitsun morris dance Henry V II. iv. Shakespeare c 1599 This ‘Whitsun tale’ took place on a remote hill in South Shropshire over four hundred years ago. Before we get into the whys and wherefores of the story (of which there are actually very few) it may be helpful to clarify a couple of points. First, the…
By late March the weather was warmer and spring made herself known at Moon Brook Cottage, accompanied by cries of goshawks, chiffchaffs, skylarks and the promise of cookoo. Celandines, or star-flowers, cheered up the woods and moon-flowers, more commonly known today as wood anemones, graced the shadows and verges. It was then I was approached by BBC’s Countryfile program regarding ideas for their feature on Easter traditions of Herefordshire. Much is written concerning modern day Easter traditions and adaptations but…
“That vivid present of theirs, how faint it grows! The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow’s past.” Mary Webb, (Precious Bane, 1924) I am interested in the social and historical context of folk traditions. This may be difficult, if not impossible to determine yet the history of people who kept tradition alive is an integral part of my…
‘Forget not the Feasts that belong to the Plough’* Plough Munday, the next after Twelftide be past, biddeth out with the plough, the worst husband is last. If Ploughman gets hatchet or whip to the skreene. maydes loseth their Cocke if no Water be seene. Thomas Tusser* 1557 Writing in 1557 the Essex writer and farmer, Thomas Tusser, is describing a game then played on Plough Monday, the first Monday after Twelfth Night. The game’s origins are unknown. It would…
Sea dragons, merry maids, sea witches and tempestuous seas are part of the lure of the otherworldly North Cornwall coastline. Artists, writers & poets have thrived and taken inspiration from its raw, and sometimes terrifying beauty. Its wildness & unpredictability is not for everyone but for myself it is part of that westward pull that has taken me from St Kilda to Kerry, from St David’s to St Just. November storms are sometimes exhilarating, often brutal, air howling as the…
Or, The Fall and Fading of Vadi… With All Hallows behind us and the ever darkening nights of winter ahead, this is the time of year to dig in and burrow down into the warmth of home and hearth and listen to, or read, stories. Our folklore and legends are full of tales of giants but what happened to them between their appearance as fearsome primeval entities and the much later blustering entities uttering fee fi fo fum? I wrote…