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Currently researching calendar customs and folklore of Nottinghamshire

Custom survived: Ilkeston’s Charter Fair and opening ceremony

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Ilkeston Charter Fair is an impressive spectacle. Ilkeston is perhaps not the most picturesque Derbyshire town; far away from the more noted Peak District and its picture-postcard towns and villages. However despite its slight lack of the tourist idea of a town – and it does have a fine museum – it becomes most attractive and highly visitable for the second week of October when this ancient fair brightens up the dullness with its vibrant sights, sounds and smells.

The best day to go is when it is ceremonially opened by the Town’s Mayor which is the Thursday – although in a quaint turn of Britishness the fair has been running since Wednesday!

Fair opening time

Sat outside the Town Hall festoon with banners proclaiming the fair and its vintage was a platform with two bells at the side. It was these two bells which would ring in the fair in and officially open it at 12 midday. I turned up at around 11.30

After being entertained by a certain Johnny Victory with his musical selection which surprisingly was known beyond the elderly attendees, out came the dignitaries the Macebearer, the Mayor in his chain and red and black clock sporting the traditional tricorn hat and a selection of gold chain wearing attendees probably Mayors of our nearby towns although they did also look like a rather bad put together 1980s rap crew.

The Macebearer approached the lectern and read the proclamation:

“For Hugh Son of Ralph. The King to his Archbishops etc. Greeting. Know ye that we have granted and by this our Charter confirmed to our beloved and faithful Hugh son of Ralph, that he and his heirs for ever shall have free warren in all their demesne lands of Ilkesdon in the country of Derby and Gresley and Muscampis in the Country of Nottingham. So nevertheless that such lands be not within the metes of our forest, so that no one shall enter those lands to hunt in them or to take anything which belongs to warren without licence and Will of the said Hugh and his heirs upon for forfeiture to us of ten pounds. Also we have granted by this our Charter confirmed to the same Hugh that he and his heirs for ever shall have one Market every week on Thursday at his aforesaid Manor of Ilkesdon and that they will have there one fair every year to continue on the vigil and on one day of the assumption of the Blessed Mary Unless such Market and such Fair be to the Nuisance of the neighbouring Markets and neighbouring Fairs. Wherefore we will [wish] that the aforesaid Hugh and his heirs for ever shall have free warren as is aforesaid and that they shall have one Market every week and one Fair every year at his aforesaid Manor or Ilkesdon as is aforesaid with all the liberties and free customs to such Market and Fair belonging unless [such as Market and Fair to be a nuisance] These being Witnesses: Guy de Lezingny and William de Valencia, our brothers, Richard de Grey, John de Grey, J. Mansell Reeve of Beverley, Ralph the son of Nicholas, Bertram de Crioll, Master William de Kilkenni Archdeacon of Coventry, Rober Waler, Elyas de Rabayn, Ralph de Bakepuz, William Gernun, Roger de Lokinton, John de Geres and others. Dated by our hand at Windsor, the 10th day of April.”

After reading the lengthy Charter the Mayor approached the stand and gave a brief introduction before approaching the bells as the church bells rang 12….I think we may have been running late…especially as the Mayor said the trick was to ring without the church bells drowning them out. He had managed it! The bells were rung with great effort and the fair officially opened to great cheers.

Top of the Charters

The original fair called the Assumption Fair was held in the church yard during August was mainly food and drink with cockfighting and bear baiting as supplementary entertainments. Later on a Hiring or Statutes fair was established where agricultural labourers would attend to find winter employment. Again supplementary entertainments arose and then in 1888 the two were combined and the date confirmed as the third week in October. Its close proximity to Nottingham’s Goose Fair meant it was a convenient event for showmen. and it has been held continuously bar a break in the First World War.

The Show families were always welcomed at Ilkeston and a great relationship developed one the town council still is proud of. Indeed, in 1922, John Proctor one of the families who still attend became the Councillor for the town. The grand opening of the fair begun in 1931 when Councillor Beardsley became the first Mayor to organise a civic opening and custom which has continued ever since.

 

Swings and roundabouts

Then the assembled dignitaries lead by the Mayor went to inspect the fair – and get some free rides. First to the dodgems and the Mayor and Mayoress climbed into the first car followed by the rest. The buzzer went and off they went enjoying bumping into each other and possibly letting off some civic stress. Next it was the big wheel. The off to the Cake Walk which was the most challenging of the rides with the vicar finding getting off a bit of a challenger. As the Mayor paraded around he met young children and reached into his gown to find some cards – free ride cards – the children’s face lighting up when being given them. The Mayor then arrived at the Ghost Train and left looking surprisingly shocked! When the civic party arrived at the Gallopers, one of the showmen appeared. I could see many of the assembled hearts sink when they were told that the engine on the gallopers was broken and they’d have to try the Whizzer instead! Far less gentile! But they got the gallopers going and on they went. Round and around…’I see the town council goin’ round in circles again…just as they do all the times’ I heard a bystander say. It is heartening to see the civic party take so much pride and fun in this annual fair.

 

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Custom contrived: Long Clawson Conker Championship

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Stilton Cheese. That is what Long Clawson means to most people who know it but 1 day out of 365 the cheese making takes a back seat for a great slice of quirky Britishness – a conker championship.

Passing through the village it looks like nothing is going on. No one is walking the street. Houses look empty and then turning the corner one come across the green and there were hundreds of people bathing in the warm October sunshine and enjoying a conker fight or two.

Around the green were set up platforms were the conker pugilists, each pair intensely focusing on their fight cheered on by the audience behind the barrier.

From tiny conkers grow….

Robert Southey’s memoirs of 1821 first mentions but this was done with hazelnuts or snail shells or hazelnuts. It was on the Isle of Wight in 1848 that the first game is recorded and it spread rapidly across the UK by the 1900s.

The idea of a championship was started by an outsider, from Nottinghamshire, a Mr Haythornthwaite who met up at the Crown and Plough one night with brothers Terry and Robin Bailey and set out the idea to raise charity money back in 1984. Robin Bailey went on to be the first winner of the Championship and was given the name King Conker and he has been involved every since. From that chat in the pub the competition has gone on for 30 years! King Conker being easily found with his chain of office – made of conkers of course.

But everyone on the green is competing to become the new King or Queen Conker. Over 100 people had entered and there was a thriving children section. Indeed I was very impressed with the younger entrants who were practicising intensely at the edge of the arena. Although I am not sure why I’d be so surprised it is a kid’s game after all!

2018’s competition like many through the 2010s has had the threat of conkers being in short supply due to disease. Certainly the sizes of conkers did look quite meek in the bucket for collection remembering that one could not bring your own conker save you immerse it in vinegar to make it stronger. They take fair play seriously at Long Clawson.

 

All hail the conkerer!

Its so serious that the pub runs a pre-Tournament conker off to ensure that the very best players are playing on the day. Indeed the competition was intense. A particularly tournament I observed appeared to go on with no result. Whack. Conker one was intact. Whack. Conker two was intact. Whack again. Ditto. Whack again. Ditto. The crowd watched on tenterhooks as The Melton Times noted:

“The number of entries was again solid with over 100 competitors on the day all aiming to be crowned King Conker 2018,” said Bryan Lovegrove, one of the organisers. “There were a number of prolonged battles, sometimes with no conker being broken. These then went into a sudden death test of skill with the winner being the one to gain the greatest number of conker strikes from a set number of attempts.”

After all the knockouts, split conkers laying forlornly on the floor we reached the final and it was a men vs women final. Amy Goddard vs Jamie King..after a valiant attempt Jamie appropriately could add Conker to the add of his name as he gained the prize and was very pleased with himself. The junior competition was between Jessica Traquir and Yasmin Bursnall of which the later one showing that the future of the conker championship may well lay with the women.

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Custom demised: Hallowe’en offerings of ale to Shony, Isle of Lewis

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Hippocampus (mythology) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

In the village of Bragar, on the Isle of Lewis at Hallowe’en was perhaps the British Isles most peculiar custom which involved a sea creature called Shony . The main source is Martin Martin’s Description of the Western Isles (1703):

one of their number was picked to wade into the sea up to his middle, and carrying a cup of ale in his hand, standing still in that posture.

He notes that once in the sea he would cry out with a loud voice saying:

“Shony, I give you this cup of ale, hoping that you’ll be so kind as to send us plenty of sea-ware for enriching our ground for the ensuing year”,

Then the ale was thrown into the sea. John Cameron in the 1900 Gaelic Plants of Scotland adds it was Mulvay church and that it was sanctioned by the Church of Scotland indeed, Thisleton-Dwer 1900 Popular British customs present and past adds that it was

“performed at night and on his return to land the people went to church and put out the candle burning on the altar, then went to the fields where they drank ale and spent the rest of the night dancing and singing.”

When the custom died out is unclear but interestingly Fiona Mcleod in her 1912 Iona tells of a Hebridean nurse who told her about Shony and she adds:

I was amused not long ago to hear a little girl singing, as she ran wading through the foam of a troubled sunlit sea, as it broke on those wonderful white sands of Iona:-
“Shanny, Shanny, Shanny,
Catch my feet and tickle my toes!
And if you can, Shanny, Shanny, Shanny,
I’ll go with you where no one knows!”

It is clear that Shony and Shanny was the same. Interesting it is also the name for a blenny fish! She added that its power was not forgotten:

whose more terrifying way was to clutch boats by the keel and drown the sailors, and make a death necklace of their teeth. An evil Shony; for once he netted a young girl who was swimming in a loch, and when she would not give him her love he tied her to a rock, and to this day her long brown hair may be seen floating in the shallow green wave at the ebb of the tide. One need not name the place!”

Cameron suggests that the Shony was

“Sjone a Scandinavian Neptune. This offering was a relic of pagan worship introduced into the Western Isles by the Norwegians.”

One wonders what Shony’s response is now that it is now regularly celebrated!

Custom survived: Lichfield’s Sheriff’s Ride

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In a 1553 Charter of Mary Tudor’s reign she bestowed upon them their own Sheriff and separated it from Staffordshire being its own County. Amongst the duties of this newly appointed post was to oversee the boundaries of the fairly newly instated city and such the Sheriff’s Ride was established:

“perambulate the new County and City annually on the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary”.

This was confirmed by Charles II which read:

“the balliffs and common councilmen shall annually on the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin perambulate the boundaries of the city and county of Lichfield and the precincts thereof”

….and it has continued ever since. The Sheriff’s ride rather than taking place on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary…the 8th of September it is the nearest Saturday. And despite Lichfield becoming party of Staffordshire back in 1888 the ride still goes on! An early reference is from 1638 in St Michael’s church registers which reads:

Paid for an horse for Mr Hobbocke the curate at ye Perambulation xii d”

Ride on time

I arrived in Lichfield just as the party was leaving the Guildhall. They were moving at quite a pace and the sight and sound of 50 riders on the hard road surface was something to witness. Of they were to go around the 20 miles of the border. In the morning the group followed the northern and eastern boundaries and stopped for lunch at Freeford Manor. After their break they returned to their horses and surveyed the western and southern areas and again stopped for tea at Pipe Hall.

Horsing around and around

F. W. Hackwood (1924) in their Staffordshire Customs, superstitions and folklore records that in 1921 it:

“was large as ever. The assembly (which included the Mayor, the corporation nd the city officials) met at the Guildhall where the Sheriff Councillor F. Garratt entertained his friends with light refreshments before starting. A number were mounted on horseback, but every other known means of road transport was also brought into use, a curious admixture of the ancient and the modern”

This must have been an odd if slightly dangerous site and although people follow with cars it is now at a respectful distance and the perambulation is only done by horses who pay £30 to join. Recently a so-called ‘Alternative Sheriff’s Ride’ with push bikers has been established and one day perhaps it might take over! I was also amused to see the Sheriff wearing a day-glo jacket as if 50 odd horses isn’t as noticeable on their own cantering down the road! Hackwood (1924) continues:

“The route lay up Beacon street to cross-in-hand lane, and on to the Stafford Road at Lyncroft Hill. From thence to Lea Grange the way lay across fields till the lane leading to Elmhustr and Stychebrook was reached, and hence in the direction of Curborough to Brownsfields. After traversing more fields the way lead to Gosling land and then on to the Trent Valley Road; the railway was crossed and thence by way of Darnford Mill the party came to Horse and Jockey Inn at Freeford where they were entertained at luncheon by the sheriff with all he customary festivities.”

It is interesting to note that the party has a more upmarket luncheon location!

“Resuming the Ride the way led across fields to Knowle, then to the Birmingham Road, through fields again to Aldershawe, Sandyway, Pipe Grange, Maple Hayes, and Pipe Green and so out to Abnalls Lane back to Cross-in-hand Lane. Here a touch of the picturesque was lent by the presence of the Macebearer and other uniformed attendants, aided by the glorious weather of a fine autumnal day.”

Very little has changed. Except I imagine the smarter dress of the participants who must wear hunting or dressage and indeed there is a prize for the best dressed. At around 6 the perambulators arrive back at the city where the ceremonial sword and the Macebearer still met them now with the Dean of the Cathedral and then ceremonially leads the retinue down back to the Guildhall where a crowd was waiting to welcome the tired party and their even more tired horses!

It is worth noting that the length of this boundary appears to change according to who reports it. Hackwood states its is upwards of 16 miles, Jon Raven in his 1978 The Folklore of Staffordshire states it is 24 miles and latterly 20 miles is quoted – they appear to be doing more that perambulating if the length is increasing.

What is unusual is that this ceremony takes place in September which is a less convenient and less calendrically significant time. It seems likely that the ride was a possibly originally done at Rogation and by church authorities before the charter but no evidence can be found. And it was probably not a ride – but a walk – a rather long one…which would have been difficult to do in one day no doubt!

 

Custom contrived: Kew Gardens Clog and Apron Race

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Kew is a delightful retreat in west London. Its splendid glasshouses, incrediable arrays of perrenials and peaceful vistas. That is unless you happen to be there when the Clog and Apron race is on. For a few minutes only one of the main paths in the gardens thunders to the sound of wooden clogs and cheering!

Clogged up

But why clogs and aprons? Well clogs were traditionally the footwear of all gardens long before crocs and wellies appeared.They were better than leather boots to keep one’s feet dry Aprons being used for holding garden tools. Each year first year horticultural students are given a pair of wooden soled leather clogs and an apron in a ceremonial way as symbols of their profession. Whilst the aprons may be worn by these students, the clogs are purely symbolic most preferring those rubber shoes.

Runners (but not beans or strawberry)

The exact origins of the race are unclear as records have only been kept since the 1950s but it is thought to have started in the 1920s. It was one of a whole range of running events such as one which was between rival RHS Wisley and all around the garden race – must be all that propogating demanding some serious leg stretching.

The clog and apron race was a way of the older students to welcome the newer ones without any form of reward but glory.; more recently the Student Union has provided medals for first, second and third place.

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One of the earliest records in is the 1952 version of the Kew Journal where the extracts below are taken, which was the first after the interregnum that the second world war had enforced. The Clog and Apron Race was again held this year after a long interval, as the last race was run in 1939. Interesting it was held in the early summer:

“The race was held in fine weather on Friday, May 25th and the number of runners was so large that the field had to be divided into two heats. The first hear was run in the time of 59 seconds, being won by Mr P. Nutt ( -pixyledpublications honestly that was his name!) whilst the second heat, which like the first consisted of thirteen runners, was won by Mr. G Fuller. The first four from each heat lined up for the final and in this a very exciting race resulted. The ultimate winner, Mr Nutt, went into the lead very early, and despite all the efforts of the other runners, continued to gain until he ran hime an easy winner in a remarkable time of 49 seconds. Having regard to the fact that the course was from the Circle in the Broad Walk to No 3 Museum, measuring 375 yards and in view of the handicap of clogs and apron, the time is one which will be very difficult to beat in any future race.”

59 seconds seemed to be the model average. Nine runners in 1951 with a D. Hubbard gaining that time. It seems a few years later this Hubbard, becoming Dr Hubbard who in 1955:

“who started the race, gave a bottle of sherry and also cider to the winners. It was an exciting finish. J Eaton just beating A Keevil in 57 secs with D. Coleman third. J. Eaton also received the Pearce Cup, presented for the first year by Mr Pearce for the winner of the Race. Cynthia Warner also received a bottle of cider for being the only girl brave enough to challeng the lads. Mr Pearce provided cider to revive all the competitors. “

Then in 1976, the race then being held in October recorded that:

“The race started in failing light and finished up in almost total darkness. A record time was established by a second year student, Miss Sally Vernon, who became the first female to win the face but also claims the honour of breaking P. Nutt’s record time which was 49.0 seconds in 1951, by a clear 4 seconds. Sally with the speed of a 8.30 Trident, zoomed in at 45.9 seconds. “

However there were some recriminations

“Paul Potter, who came second in 55.0 seconds a clear 10 seconds behind speedy Sall, says that the girls should have been given only two little bins start, instead of the four they were allowed this year. I think that Paul knows that Sally would have still burnt him out if she had not been given any start at all. “

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In 1979 the race for the first time was organised so that members of the public could experience it. The Press release read:

“The Clog and Apron Race Thursday 27th September 1979 for the first time ever, the annual Clog and Apron Race wil be staged whilst the Gardens are opens so that those members of the public who wish can witness the special occasion. The race is held on Thursday 27th September and will start at approximately 5.00 pm and the activities should be finished by 5.45pm”

It adds;

“The event recaptures some of the ancient apprenticeship traditions and colour of the former days. The Race competitors, all dressed in horticultural aprons and heavy clogs, pound the full length of Broadwalk a wide 375 yard long avenue (running from the Palm House Pond and Orangery)….Lady students are given a 50 yard start.”

Alan Titchmarsh in his Knave of Spades notes the event, failing to mention this was perhaps his sole sporting success:

“The clogs were used competitively each autumn in the Clog and Apron Race, which took place o the Broad Walk that runs from Kew’s Orangery to Palm House Pond, a distance of perhaps a hundred and fifty yards. Clad in this traditional apparel (both still worn by Kew students in the late 1960s) those who were rash enough to enter would clatter their way down he wide Tarmac path, sparks flying from their footwear and their denim aprons billowing like kites. The prize was a crate of beer, which was shared round anyway, so it mattered not who won or lost, but how they clattered down.”

Clogging on

It was a very fine evening with the warmth of the fading sun on my face, I awaited on the grass verge the runners. Running in clogs must be a strange experience. The weight of the wooden shoes suggesting the need for some strength in those gardening muscles. I don’t think it would be an event you would want to do every day. Fortunately it was quick for them for in less than a minute the first runner appeared. One could hear them approaching before seeing him or rather them as there was he was closely followed behind by the rest. The winner made a respectable timing and looks very happy to hold aloft the prize. Then it was back to the hard work of horticulture.

 

Custom demised: Little Coxwell’s Educational Charity

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Henry Edwards in their 1842 Old English Customs and Charities notes on the 29th of September the village enacted an unusual custom. He noted that:

“the Rev. David Collier charged certain lands in the hamlet of Little Coxwell with the payment of eight bushels of barley yearly…. for teaching the poor children of this parish to read, write, and cast accounts, for three years, when they were to be succeeded by two others to be taught for the same term, and so on successively for ever, and he empowered the vicar and churchwardens, or the major part of them (the vicar being always one) to nominate the children.”

This was back in 1724 and those these were the times when the poor were rarely educated and as such a benefactor who provided money to enable education would be gratefully received. Edwards notes that:

“The payment has been regularly made, sometimes in kind, but latterly in money estimated at the price of barley, at the Farringdon market, the nearest to the day when the annual payment becomes due. The payment is made, under the direction of the churchwardens, to a schoolmistress for teaching three children to read, and, if girls, to mark also. The number of children was formerly two only, who were further taught to write and cast accounts.”

However by the time of Edwards the charity was already appearing to die out in reference to teaching them to write and cast accounts:

“but this part of their education was discontinued many years ago in consequence of the inadequacy of the fund, and, instead thereof an additional child was sent to be instructed with the others.”

Now education is free and as such the provision of the money has long gone.

Custom survived: The South Queensferry Burryman

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At the time I was performing at the Edinburgh Fringe – but that’s another story – and as a break from the incessant publicity I decided to take myself to find the Burry man. These were the days before the Internet and asking at the Tourist Information in Edinburgh they thought it was some sort of Fringe event..but I thought it is only a few miles out I would try and find it.

The Burryman is perhaps the most bizarre of our customs. A man covered head to toe with burrs with a flowery hat of roses, carnations and chrysanthemums. No skin is visible. Just a slit for the mouth. So much that his humanity appears to stripped for him, from a far he is most alien only a cummerbund adorned with a red lion suggesting he is human. He walks with two smartly dressed attendees, who help him hold onto to two hydrangea filled poles.

I located the Burryman easy enough propped outside of a pub like a rag doll. He appeared to acknowledge me but did not say. A few moments later a man appeared with a glass of something – whisky –  what else? Of course drinking the Whisky was a challenge; he only had a slit for a mouth. A straw was provided and it was steadily consumed..one of many it would appear.

As I followed him around some local children cheered his arrival, others watched from behind their parents more suspiciously. The lack of sound perhaps making it more curious for unlike every other similar custom, there is no associated music, no accordions, no violins, no bagpipers and no Morris!

Burry little clear on the origins

History is silent on its origin. Being linked to the local fair, which although medieval in origin only established a charter in 1687 suggests that it dates from then. Very unlikely I would feel and the two has become coincidentally associated. Some state it has a 900 year origin but it only has a recorded history since 120 odd years ago. Interestingly, the date 1687 was when the town became a burgh – burgh – burr – was this a local joke go on and on?

The Burryman is clearly a very odd folk figure. If there was a list of scary English folk figures he would be up there with the Straw bear and Bartle. Indeed, some believe that was part of its function, a mechanism to ward off evil spirits. One belief is that he is a sacrificial scape goat, much akin to the theory of Burning Bartle and the custom’s date being close to the ancient Lammas it is not difficult to reason with its association with harvest fertility, rebirth and regeneration. Certainly, the lack of speech and painfulness of the whole process suggests sacrifice as Brian Shuel notes in his 1984 Guide to Traditional Customs of Britain:

“It has to be said that by the late afternoon the Burry Man’s attendants were proping him up. Exhausted and full of whisky he was extremely relieved to get back to the Town hall where they stripped him in moments and left him comatose in his underpants for ten minutes before his wife, Julia, managed to prod him back to life. Suddenly he revived and in no time was himself again.”

But why here and why no-where else? Well it was found associated with Scottish fishing communities on the Moray Firth and was used to protect against poor fishing seasons. In Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire in the 1860s and their Burryman was on horseback and travelled through the town with a piper. In Buckie it appears to have been only done in response to a failure of the fishing fleet but curiously it was a Cooper who was wheelbarrowed around the town.  Queensferry is near the Sea so it is understandable it would survive there. But why the burrs? The provision of whisky is said to give the provider good luck; a clever way to ensure a free supply.

See the source image

Burrly able to move

There are many foliage people – Jacks, Straw men etc – but the Burryman has got to be the most strikingly unusual and uncomfortable. He is covered head to toe with sticky flower heads of the burdock. These being collected on the Friday morning before the parade These burrs, of which 11,000 is the average number which cover him, would be almost impossible to bear on a person’s normal clothing so he is covered head to toe in thick longjohns, vest, heavy sweeter and a balaclava which in August must be just as bad as being covered it spikey foliage! The burrs also cause the wearer to walk awkwardly with an open leg gait and arms outstretched which adds to the curious appearance! As if being covered with burrs and wearing a balaclava is not bad enough the Burryman has to walk a seven-mile route which usually takes nine hours!

The whole event begins in the Staghead Hotel at around 7am. The Friday previous the Burryman collects burrs and places them on newspaper make A3 size burr squares their natural Velcro like ability enables them to form ready-made fabrics. Overall 25 are made. The would then be placed on the volunteer and slowly but surely he becomes the Burryman. His first stumbling steps make it to the Town Hall where traditionally he receives his first dram of whisky.

Only locals can be the Burryman and despite the discomfort they are repeat performances one man Alan Reid having the pleasure for 25 years. He was only a few years from retirement when I ‘met’ him in the 1990s. Since 2012 an Andrew Taylor has the honour.

Burrly there!

I spent a couple of hours in the middle of the day which the Burryman, watching as he was greeted with great enthusiasm from pubs, shops, passerbys and a local factory. At lunchtime his attendees arrived at a local pub, where after having some difficulty getting him through the doorway, left him in the hall way again propped against the way – he could not sit down. Half an hour passed and he was still there but appeared like a forgotten rag doll! After a number of drams he looked decidedly jaded, although his foliage had jet to droop! In the bar I managed to speak to renowned custom hunter Doc Rowe and it is great to know Doc has returned regularly ever since. He was particularly amazed when in less than a month later he recognised me at Abbott Bromley at the Horn Dance and the mad search for customs has not stopped since!

With the modernity’s shadow of the Forth Bridge looming over the town, the curious juxtaposition survival of ancient and modern are very clear here. As the bizarre Burry man parades pointlessly around the town – the fair it was associated with long gone – it is evident that the locals need him like they would the whiskey he imbibes or the cars they drive. He is part of the fabric of the community. A mysterious almost mesmerizing old custom, one which would drag people back to see it again. It has been over 20 years since I experience the Burryman and I feel a revisit is long overdue!