Custom contrived: The Carshalton Straw Man

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Carshalton can be seen as typical London suburbia. Neat gardens, green spaces, libraries, busy shops and popular pubs. It’s an area usually devoid of anything cultural or traditional. Full of commuters, tired after a long week of work..yet you would be wrong. For come the second week of September a curious and unique event takes over this sleepy slice of commuter land…Carshalton’s Straw Jack

Man of Straw

I attended on a gloriously warm and bright day and I soon found the Jack and its fantastically dressed entourage at the Fox and Hounds – a suitably countryside named pub perhaps. The Jack was certainly impressive, a 10 metre high creature, certainly one of the tallest Jack figures seen on our streets.  It is made in the same way as its Maytime, equivalent being a wooden frame like a May Jack but of course then covered in straw, decorated with flowers.  The entourage was just as beautifully crafted being in the main dressed in a sort of Victorian Gothic Punk…they were certainly much better dressed than the usual Saturday clients at the pub.

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A Straw in the wind

The Carshalton Straw Jack is not a particularly old tradition, only 10 years old, but one which has all the ingredients to make it seem old. A celebration of the harvest, the passing of the seasons, a straw Jack in a nod to the Summer’s Jack in the Green. One can be struck by the names of its attendees the Squire, The Rat Catcher, The Scarecrow, The Reaper Man, The Corn Dollies, The Cider Man all sound suitably harvest related and traditional…as well as comically phrased with a wink in the eye.

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The last straw

I followed the Straw Jack around the streets and through the park as it and its follows writhed in and out, enchanted by the music by the delightfully named drumming band RumpleDrumskin. The assembled onlookers were the usual mix of bemusement and amusement, although I was interested to see an elderly lady reach over to touch the straw covered creature for luck it appeared! Towards the end of the day celebration ends at its final pub, The Hope and here the Jack sees its end. Here a ritual burning of the Jack occurs as its followers scramble to catch pieces of it for good luck…and its over for another year.

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Perhaps it seems highly appropriate that this celebration of the harvest, a harvest long gone for these places, but once so immediately essential, is celebrated here. It is a pub crawl…aren’t they all…but one with a message perhaps to celebrate the harvest. One that may remind even our most urban areas need to celebrate the harvest that has filled their convenience stores and super markets. Long may it continue!

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