Custom survived: The Wroth Silver ceremony, Ryton on Dunsmore

Its very early, before 5 am on a dark, fortunately dry but cold morning. We are in the middle of nowhere it seems but despite the time and location, there are a number of cars appearing and parking with their occupants jumping out. Soon there is a steady concourse of people crossing the rather busy A road much to the confusion of the drivers who speed at some breakneck speed along this highway. 252 days of the year there is no one and to anyone driving along this is a confusing scene. Its no rave they are going to but the oldest continuously held ceremony in Britain. It is the morning of the 11th of November and just as dawn appears those who have made the early morning pilgrimage are here to see the Wroth silver.

A fair sized crowd have assembled in the darkness around a small mound at the edge of a rather unprepossessing field. This has varied over the years from over 300 to 6 during the war years and in Covid it was probably done digitally! Upon the mound is the base of a worn cross base called the Knightlow Cross. Here representatives of 25 villages which made up of the hundred of Knightlow part of the county of Warwickshire assembly with the Mayor and the representative of the Lord of the Manor to give their dues at first light. A ceremony that has continued at least 800 years if not longer dating back some say to Saxon times, although the first written record in 1210 when a collection of 14s 1/2d was made. Why? No one is not sure but it may have provided moneys for the King to travel through the parish as the land was originally owned by the King. In 1629 the rights to the ceremony and its collection were ‘sold’; granted by letters patent by Charles I to Sir Francis Leigh and his heirs for ever for £40. Interestingly, the parishes of Baginton, Bilton, Cestersover, Frankton, Harborough Magna, Newnham Paddox, Rugby, Shuckborough, and Whitnash were included, but the 1687 return lists these under the heading—’Wroth money denied to be paid’ and one wonders whether as it was no longer to the king they decided no longer to pay. Whether they paid a fine is unknown.

At the cross stood the Mayor is their bright red coat and beside them the steward, representative of the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry whose estate is in Scotland but who owns the field dressed in the similarly tradition tweed and beige slacks. Everyone fancies east to greet the dawn. The custom starts at first light usually 6.45 but when I attended it was a bit earlier as the Duke’s representative got his mobile out to read the charter of assembly which perhaps is not really in keeping perhaps. It was added that if anyone felt not enough money was added they could add more!

As the names of the parishes were read out various people came forward to throw the money owned into the cross base, saying ‘Wroth Silver’ with an occasional additional cry being any more money from that parish or is there a representative here from that parish? With rumbling and giggles if there was not anyone forthcoming but usually someone was available although sometimes it was the same person! One regular attendee since the 1970s is the noted folklorist Doc Rowe who attended nearly every Wroth silver since and has become a valued part of the custom himself even contributing some monies himself!

As soon as the custom had started it had sort of finished and the Duke’s representative reached down into the cross and grabbed the coins to fill a money bag with wroth silver on it as he counted how much there was. The traditional amount should add up to 46p now at some point it was higher as nine other villages contributed but it looked a bit more than that.

Fortunately, all the villages paid for if they had not a fine would be made. This would be 100 pence for every penny owned or else produce a white bull with red ears and a red nose which may be impossible as it thought to have been tacked up by a previous duke, the second Duke of Montagu in 1729 as he did like a wind up. No-one has paid it that I am aware but maybe that’s why these other parishes also no longer attend.

Soon we got back into the car for the next part of the ceremony which is the traditional breakfast with toasts and speeches. The warmth of the opening fire, hot tea and great hospitality was much welcome although it was noted how we had been blessed with the weather. Here the Duke and monarch are toasted with hot milk and rum and I noticed they were already on the table and there long churchwarden pipes adorned with Wroth silver on them. Sadly I did not attend for the full event as I had to attend the Lord Mayor’s show but I was lucky enough to be given a pipe by my host for the day fellow folklorist Steve Badon who despite living in Rugby had never attended.

This post is dedicated to Steve Bladon who sadly passed away a few months after

Custom survived: Folkestone’s Canada or Flower Day

Canada Day may be a new custom relatively in London, transcribed from the country, but on the south coast in Folkestone, Canada Day has been celebrated since 1917 in a colourful and poignant unique custom at the Shorncliffe Cemetery below the old barracks. The cemetery at Shorncliffe could rank as one of the most picturesque overlooking the bay at Hythe, here 305 Canadians lay far from the native soil.

The custom was established by Edward Palmer, the founder-editor of the Hythe Reporter newspaper, the son of the first headmaster of Hythe’s National School. He thought up the idea in 1916. Canadians at the time were a common sight in the town, being stationed during the First World War and many injured soldiers returned to the camp above the town. At the time the Canadians already held there Canada Day celebration, then called Dominion Day, with a  parade consisting of massed marching bands through union jack and maple lead flagged streets. The event culminated in a military tattoo in Radnor Park. Thus it is worth noting that Canada Day celebrations existed for more than over a 100 years from Edward Palmer’s involvement. Of course, many Canadian soldiers did not recover from the injuries of war and were buried in the Shorncliffe cemetery.

Edward Palmer wrote in the Hythe reporter that he was concerned that the soldier’s families being many thousands of miles away prevented that visiting and attending to the grave and he suggested that a that a day should be established when flowers should be placed on each grave. Stating that ‘who is more fitted to this than the children who wave flags and salute the flag on Empire Day?’

Thus Palmer organise the first event in 1917. In the early evening of the 13^th July, 1500 school children assembled at the cemetery joined by the Band of the Canadian Artillery playing the ‘The Maple Leaf’ and the National Anthem.  There was no religious service but brief speeches given by two serving Canadian officers as well as the Folkestone Mayor Stephen Penfold and the Vicar of Hythe, Reverend H Dale as well as other Canadian soldiers.  After which, the children then solemnly and quietly walked among the graves and left their bouquets and posies on each grave. An account is recorded in Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate and Cheriton Herald June 1917.

“Children Honour Canadians Graves – Tribute to Maple leaf heroes – Pretty Ceremony at Shorncliffe

A very pretty and pleasing ceremony, which it is hoped will be an annual event, was witnessed at the Moore Barracks Cemetery on Wednesday afternoon, when some 1500 school children from Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate and Cheriton gathered to do honour to the Canadian soldiers buried there by placing flowers on all he graves. Every juvenile carried a bunch of flowers, manuy of them being of large size and beautifully arranged and the scene was a remarkably pretty one. The Children were arranged in a square, each school being under the care of its own teachers, while in the centre were the speakers, and the band of the Canadian Cavalry Brigade, under Lieutenant Dickinson.”

Palmer continued to organise until his death in 1927, thus ensuring it was well established by the start of the Second World War which as often put a momentary pause to the proceedings but was fortunately reinstated in 1952. It has continued since, even in 2020 a service was held albeit without children,  a small number of children attending in 2021 for a socially distanced one.

Over time the custom has changed its name from Flower day to a more obvious Canada Day, but appears to be little known despite its age. The children still attend some walking from their primary schools, others being bused in. They continue to process down the slope. Some holding their flowers which range from large bouquets to small posies. Some holding flags. Much of the ceremony remains as Palmer established, there is still music from an assembled brass band, speeches from the Mayor and Canadian officers, the later recording the significance of the day. Now there is a religious aspect to the ceremony, which adds the necessary solemnity to the event. Many current and old soldiers pay their respects by laying wreaths and attending, often the most elderly watching over from the hillside above. At the end of the ceremony, the children who has sat very patiently and attentively during the 40 minutes or so of the service, knew it was their time. They dutifully stood, and then at the allotted time knelt placing their flowers and then their small wooden cross upon the grave in front, nodding their heads with respect. Their duty undertaken the children were row by row, one by one, dismissed and processed back.

 

 

 

Over time the number of children have dropped and today there is little over a third attending meaning sadly not all graves get flowers, perhaps two graves could be attended by one child if numbers drop to lower numbers. Furthermore, perhaps the custom requires a new name, as the ceremony has now acknowledged the role of the Gurkhas, a number of whom are buried within the cemetery and even today a small population lives in the town. The military band was a Gurkha band in fact.

These points notwithstanding, Folkestone’s celebration of Canada’s contribution continues to be a poignant and picturesque tradition

Custom survived: Cooper’s Hill Cheese rolling

Hard cheese

It is perhaps rare that an attendee to a calendar custom or tradition could claim to have a feeling of dread verging on PTSD attending one. However, I got that feeling returning to the internationally famous Cooper’s Hill Cheese Rolling. It has been a long to, 27 odd years since my first and only visit. A lot had changed. But one thing remains, the bizarreness of running after a 7-8Ib Double Gloucester!

The Coopers Hill or Brockworth cheese rolling is perhaps after a royal occasion the most famous of British customs. However, it was not always like that. Indeed its history is a bit mysterious. The first recorded evidence is in a message written to the Town crier of Gloucester in 1826; although it locally thought to date back six hundred years. Many suggestions have been made for its meaning. Was it done to secure grazing rights on common land? Did it have an association with the turning year, the cheese representing the sun? Afterall cartwheels were rolled down hills in England at Midsummer and still are in Scandinavian countries. Did it thus represent a pagan tradition? A fertility rite? Indeed, the scattering of sweets at the start which was done for children could be associated with such viewpoints. What is certain is that was once associated with Whit Monday which suggests it may have had been part of a wider Whitsun fair; akin to that on the Uffington White Horse. And indeed, here too cheeses were rolled and chased.

A description from the Folklore journal of 1912 states

“The Master of Ceremonies, Mr W. Brookes, who has officiated in this capacity for over 30 years, appeared wearing, as usual, a brown top-hat which his parents won in a dancing competition many years ago, and with a chemise over his coat. He stood by the maypole and repeatedly called the crowd to form ‘the alley’ down the slope. The course being clear, the Vicar opened the ball by sending the first ‘cheese’ (a disc of wood wrapped in pink paper) rolling down the hill. Helter-skelter ran nine young men after it, and most of them pitch-polled. The first to secure the disc, stopped at the bottom by a hedge, had to trudge uphill again, and there exchange it for the prize cheese.”

So to 2023 and after making the considerable arduous climb to the slope the first thing that amazes you are the crowds – 1000s – all ages, all nations assembled to watch what is clearly the most pointless, crazy and dangerous of all calendar customs. The grandfather of all extreme sports and certainly the progenitor of all ‘down the pub’ wacky customs. At the brow of the hill could be seen the master of ceremonies adorning a large top hat and white smock and beside him a crowd of participants, precariously perched ready to launch after the cheese they could never hope of catching.

Then

“One to be ready!”
“Two to be steady!”
“Three to prepare!”
“and four to be off!”

Off went the Double Gloucester and off went the racers, in their impossible attempt to gain the cheese. At first the majority had managed their composer, its just like any other race, but then momentum hits and the ground does not appear as even as first appeared. A few start tumbling forward, then more, then they fall, cartwheel and tumble head long into the row of rugby tacklers below. All fuelled by the considerable cacophony of cheers from right across the hills.  Some despite a few bruises leave standing up with the dignity upheld and proud to have done it. The majority disappear back into obscurity, save the boast to all that will hear that they ran the race. A small number go on to greater fame. Hopefully as the winner, denoted as the first to arrive at the bottom. Some as the ones injured by the experience.

The later often as was in the Women’s race often as not the same, as the adrenalin to win pushes you on and it seems a body devoid of the purposed propulsion of one’s legs is quicker! Indeed, it looked fairly inevitable for that winner and as the curtain closed around her and medical team came to her aid, a hush developed around the hill as we worried the cheese would be awarded posthumously. However, after a rather tense 20 minutes or so, the curtains retreated, a cheer went up as the winner naturally looking rather dazed and confused stood up and greeted her cheese and the clicks of the assembled photographers. The men did not go unscathed either with the men’s winner having a brief moment of recovery before not only being given the cheese but the new world record which he took with considerable humility. The previous record winner, a local, taking the loss with good nature but as he appeared each year to regale in his honour, the new winner hailing from Washington State, USA his regular challenge might be a challenge…but such is the international nature of this event now.

Roll back to the 90s!

Back in 1996 I met up with some old Uni friends who after even after seeing the carnage of previous attempts roped themselves and me into the race. To be honest either due to fortune, folly or favour, I do not recall making it right to the bottom; pretty sure they did; but at least I can claim to have done it. A boast that wins considerable kudos amongst the 1000s who now watch on in disbelief.  Certainly, watching it from the bottom up is far more anxiety inducing than watching it from the top I can attest.

Much of the custom appears to be the same, the curiously attired master of ceremonies, the cheeses and races and the equally crazy run and finally crawl up the hill. The one thing I didn’t notice was the distribution of sweets. This certainly happened at the top of the hill when I attended and either I missed it or its gone. I would not be surprised it has vanished; the large numbers of spectators make it bit unlikely small children would be at the top ready to scramble for them.

I was not aware of any injuries when I went but only a few years earlier in 1993 it was noted that 15 people were injured, four seriously so and only three years after I went, in 1999 the council banned it, but a small group defied the ban and moved the race to earlier in the day to allay the councils fears over the sobriety of the participants. It worked and as Steve Roud (2005) notes in The English Year:

“Oddly enough, this was just in a time when the custom was becoming popular with the national press, who now report on it each year, usually accompanied by a piece on the eccentricities of the English. Now that its fame has spread, the event attracts entrants from far and wide, and seems ilittle danger of being allowed to lapse.”

Cheesed off!

However, Roud spoke too soon for in 2009 perhaps the inevitable did happen. Health and safety again unsurprisingly raised its head and it was officially cancelled. There was no rolling in 2009 and it seemed like the end. However, you cannot keep a good roll down and the next year a smaller event was organised by an unusual alliance of journalists and locals. Such that in 2011 when locals Candis Phillips and Sara Stevens bought their own four cheeses, as the company who had donated them had been prevented from doing so due to the legality of the situation, the event thus running without management. Around 500 people turned up and interestingly no injuries were reported: A former winner being quoted as saying:

“No-one’s going to stop us doing it. They say it’s not official, but we are all Brockworth people, and we’re running cheese today, so it is official. We strongly believe in it.”

A ‘Save the Cheese Roll’ campaign was started and the revival and global fame built and built. Only a major pandemic would stop it in 2020 and 2021, returning yet again in its rather spontaneous fashion unusually on Sunday 5 June 2022 due to the Jubilee celebrations.

So since the late 90s the fame of the cheese rolling has grown perhaps as a result of its near banning; such responses often result, such that it has become festival like. Thousands of onlookers crowd the banks either side of the ‘track’ and on the hill sides below, which incidentally give a remarkable unblocked view where the chases appear to tumble like dominos down the near vertical slope. Yet despite this fame and notoriety it remains unfettered by commercialism. There are no Cheese rolling T shirts. No mugs. No merchandise at all. Plenty of people come dressed up in a cheese fashion including some rather fetching cheese hats, but there is no attempt to make money from the event. To over commercialise it bar the car parking that is perhaps! In 1996 parking nearby was relatively easy and above the hill; now all roads are blocked and attendance does require a lengthy uphill pilgrimage.

Custom occasional: The Chertsey Curfew Bell

Lady Day is the last day for the ringing of the curfew bell at Chertsey. Manning and Bray’s “The History and Antiquities of Surrey” (c.1811) records that this curfew was rung, at 8pm on weekdays but also on Sunday mornings at 8am on the largest (tenor) bell. However, although the practice of the 8am ringing of the tenor curfew was discontinued, the 8pm week-night ringing is now done by a bell from 1856 rather than the Abbey bell as established obviously to protect this well. The curfew is not now rung on Saturday nights.

Curfew bells were established across the country as has been discussed before, and some counties such as Kent had a number. Often a story about their establishment is told but in this case this appears lost and is replaced by the story of Blanche Heriot.

For whom the bell tolls

The story is based around the time of the War of the Roses, when in 1471, Yorkist King Edward IV retook the throne such that Blanche’s suitor, a Lancastrian Knight, Neville Audrey, having fought against Edward, had now become a traitor. Thus, he sought sanctuary in the Abbey. However, the authorities did not regard this as sanctuary and he was captured and sentenced to death. The execution was by the chiming of the following day’s first toll of the town’s curfew bell.

However, a reprieve was on offer. For the knight remembered that he had saved the life of a Yorkist nobler who grateful for the sparing of his life, that he gave him his signet ring stating he was a moral and honourable character. So, with the ring him hand he sent a rider to reach the king in search of a pardon.

The King did give him a pardon but the distance between London and Chertsey would be a challenge to get the message to the knight’s potential executioners. Legend tells that the rider was a mile away when Blanche decided to climb the abbey’s bell tower and jumped to grab the clapper. The bell was about to ring, but Blanche holding fast muted the sound by preventing it hitting the bell, until the rider appeared with the pardon. Which indeed happened and he was saved.

In 1840, Albert Smith published the story, and it became very popular West End melodrama. The story also inspired American writer Rose Hartwick Thorpe write ‘The Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight’ which was one of Queen Victoria’s favourite poems. Today one can continue to hear the curfews and see a monument erected to re-remember it.

Custom survived: Jury Day at Laxton

This year I was fortunate enough to be invited to witness the Laxton Jury Day and Court Day; the later I shall discuss in December, which I have been fascinated by many years. I had tried unsuccessfully before to attend but this year I was invited to attend. Much has been written about the unique survival that is Laxton and I can only briefly discuss it here. Of course, it is the calendared events which interest us here. And every final Thursday in November twelve local farmers who compromise the Jury, who are also called the Homage, who then come and inspect the fields and particularly the sykes and drains. These stakes mark where each strip should join the bordering sykes and gaits which remain uncultivated to secure access. Any transgressions, including ploughing too far or not far enough, are recorded and presented at the Court Leet the following week. With each transgression is a suggested fine agreed by the Jury, and the Court has the legal power to enforce them. A particularly unique situation at Laxton is the retention of the three fields which undertake crop rotation – a fascinating survival as every GCSE Geography student will tell you!

Field study

The land has been part of a landed estate as far back as records survive being first recorded in map form for the then landowner, Sir William Courten, in 1635 and despite a consolidation and reduction on the strips between about 1906 and 1913, the overall layout remains the same today. I have never come across a village with so many houses called ‘farms’ although the number of actual farms has diminished and despite about 50% of the village being now in private hands, the farms are still owned by the landlord and worked by tenant farmers. It is worth noting the key points about the farming system are that any farm tenancy includes the strips designated for that farm and although occasionally the landowner may make minor adjustments, generally, the strips worked now, were the same worked by his father and grandfather and by someone else before him. Hence the affection and significance they have in the community.

Jury service

I turned up at the local pub, the Dovecote Inn, which has been central to the tradition for many years. Here I was warmly welcomed by the members of the Jury and some local curious people. The Jury overseen by an appointed bailiff has a different elected foreman for each of the three fields. Also, part of the group is the Steward who represents the Estate which was until recently the Crown but now nearby Thoresby, passing to them in 2020. These roles are life roles and indeed the fields themselves pass through the families and rarely pass into ‘outsiders’ hands. After warming with some teas, coffees and some early mince pies a large tractor with a trailer set up with straw bales for seating backed into the car park and we ascended the trailer to sit down. It was certainly a hold on to your hats situation as the trailer hurtled along the lanes and into the field which was being surveyed.

Field study

Soon we arrived at the field and here there was some confusion as to where the foreman was sending the team but soon grasping hammers and buckets full of posts two groups jumped out and soon disappeared down a lane. I jumped out to witness the action but soon realised a better experience might be following the steward who had his book ready to write down any transgressions firmly in hand. Therefore, I quickly rushed up to catch up with this group. Here the foreman was observing the previous post locations and guiding the insertion of new ones to mark the boundaries. At one point he observed some encroachment of the boundary, and this was duly noted in the book for future fining. The owners assembled took the potential of a fine very well I felt; particularly well when after some complaints from the foreman of the activity; the same offence was noticed at his strips! Too much hilarity I might add. Soon the different groups started to head to the central point where the tractor lay and after some brief discussion with the land agent and concerns over the survival of a tradition ill fitted to modern technology. After watching some evident pride from the Jurymen’s ability to find a suitable point for the boundary posts; I am not sure how well the observation from the Thoresby estate representative when he observed how well GPS would be to mark the exact location of the boundaries. Rather missing the point that the marking of these boundaries by posts probably has not changed in a 1000 years!

Working lunch

We got back on the tractor trailer and rather happy to have the job done the Jury returned back to the pub to eat a hearty meal and discuss the matters pressing from the Steward’s little book! Here the Bailiff convened a rather informal meeting of the Jury as they awaited the meal. With a weighty tone as reference, he asked for field back on what the jury had seen. Thus, a rather unusual discuss started about how much the transgressions should be fined with ostensibly those responsible. The discussion on how much to pay or whether the transgression should be let off with a warning was couched with injections such as ‘well you charged me £10 last time’ ‘it’s his second offence so it should be £20’ whilst these were perhaps trivial amounts of money, there were serious points to make. Despite some heated debate, the issues were put to bed for the week and we would await next month’s court’s thoughts on the matter.

Custom survived: London Harvest of the Sea Festival

“O Lord Jesus Christ, who after thy glorious resurrection didst prepare by  the waterside a breakfast of fish for disciples that had toiled the whole night  long; Come amongst these thy servants who toil beside our river day by day  to provide food for their fellow men, and bring thy blessing both on their  work and on their lives, O Lord our Saviour and help for ever. Amen.”

The Billingsgate Market Prayer – specially written by the late Very Rev. E. Milner-White

London has many traditions and customs as indeed this blog has detailed. One of the most visually arresting and unique is the Harvest of the Sea Harvest festival which is celebrated at St Marys at the Hill tucked away up the narrow Lovat Lane in the shadow of London’s famed Monument and a few yards from the Old Billingsgate Market.

I remember as a child once being brought early in the morning to see this vibrant fish market in action. The seafood smells, the sounds and sights of the white coated porters rushing around delivering their valuable fish stock was a heady and confusing. Little did I know that a few years later this venerable market, which had traded here since Viking times, would move forever more from its famous location to the Isle of Dogs and the noise and smells lost forever here….that is until the second Sunday in October when the smells and memories return to the church nearby. 

Plenty of fish in the sea!

The custom is famed for its seafood display which is not only visually impressive but fills the air with a fresh maritime aroma; a unique experience in a London church. Brian Shuel  in his 1985 a Guide to Traditional Customs of Britain states:

“Early in the morning a vanload of fish arrives to be laid out just inside the door of the church. In 1984 it took four men just two hours to create the astonishing display.”

He continues to state that one of the porters remarked:

“We counted fifty-four varieties of fish and shellfish…something like £500 worth of fish donated by the Billingsgate Fish Merchants.”

The display was similarly adorned with a large display of fish and seafood, with a separate stall of prawns, shrimps and cockles to the side. Nets were hung above and over a considerable monument which loomed above and crab and lobster pots – indeed two live crabs sat rather dazed upon the later awaiting their fate. 

Fishing around

I spied beneath the stall, one of the traditional bobbins. These were unique hats once worn by the porters to enable quick and efficient movement of their wares. Recalling my childhood visit I do remember the considerable skill involved and was in awe of those men rushing around carrying several boxes of fish balanced on their heads. The hats themselves are of wooden construction, covered with canvas and coated with bitumen to make them long lasting. Held together with studs and understandably having a brim to prevent any unnecessary fluids reaching the face, they are now rare pieces and in the modern Billingsgate not required.  The hat belonged to Mr Billy Hallet, who was one of two senior porters in white overalls who obliged for a photo. 

But one may ask why were they needed then? The original Billingsgate and the areas around was largely cobbled and so wheeled trolleys would be difficult to maneuver. I was informed by one of the oldest ex-Porters there, Reg Condon, of a tradition which enabled them to get up the more challenging hills locally. Upon reaching such a local, a cry of ‘hill up’ would be called by the porter. This then awoke the various rough sleepers who rested in the area who would then appear to help push the porter up the hill! They would then would be rewarded a shilling for their help. Apparently, this was a long standing tradition known by the homeless community who would make sure they were local to help and receive their monies.  

The service begun with a traditional blessing of a small section of the fish by the Bishop of Birmingham – an interesting choice perhaps being a clergyman from a landlocked location. This blessed firsh  was later returned to the whole display, with a remark that this was probably more desirable as it had been blessed.  The service had other unique maritime features such as the unique Billingsgate Prayer and prayers for Seafarers as below:

“For Seafarers  O eternal Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens, rulest the raging  of the sea: Be pleased to receive into thy protection all those who go down to  the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters. Preserve them  both in body and soul; prosper their labours with good success; in all time of  danger be their defence, and bring them to the haven where they would be;  through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

O God our heavenly Father, we pray to thee for all seafarers and those who serve their needs; for keepers of lighthouses and the pilots of our ports; for all who man the lifeboats and guard our coasts; for the men of the fishing fleets and those who carry out the services of docks and harbours; for the guilds and societies which care for the wellbeing of fishermen and their families. Bless them according to their need, and shield them in all dangers and temptations; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.”

There was an uplifting rendition of the “For those in peril on the sea” even more poignant with the aroma of the sea drifting across the congregation. The service ended with a rousing rendition of the National Anthem with the new amendments and soon food and drink was being served to the departing congregation. 

A different kettle of fish?

How old the current custom is is difficult to ascertain. It certainly is not mentioned in any of the books on customs and traditions from the 1800s or early 20th century. I spoke with a Mr Reg Condon who had worked in Billingsgate in the 50s, 60s and 70s and was 85. He could recall that the first service at St Mary’s was in the 1960s and that he did recall it being held in St Magnus. This would be in line with the reference in the Times of the 3rd October 1922 which describes a similar event. It seems likely that the custom moved perhaps after the second world war to its current location. Although St Magnus state that the service moved in 1923 to St Dunstan in the East and then to St Mary at Hill, Alternatively, Brian Shuel  in his 1985 a Guide to Traditional Customs of Britain states:

“This unique Harvest Thanksgiving began in the 1930s.. The Church Army  approached the market and suggested it as a charitable exercise. Sam Shepherd, a former Superintendent of the market told me they were delighted to agree. The occasion continues on the same basis; the Church Army still claims the fish and distributes to the needy.”

He adds surely with a tongue in cheek:

“I was grateful to accept a pair of dover sole myself, from the artistic fishmongers, who recognised my own unfortunate circumstances.”

Today a considerable queue forms and many happy congregations left with some quality seafood ready for that special occasion and despite the concerns over overfishing the display is as remarkable as ever. 

Custom survived: Lee Gap Fair, Yorkshire

“Stallions proud and ribbands prancing

Joyous fiddling and dancing

Isaac Horsfield who was there

He made sport for all the fair.

A handsome show of china ware

Of much variety was there

Cheesecakes plenty might be got

Gingerbread and good tom-trot.”

 

Lee Gap Fair was founded over 800 years ago been chartered by King Stephen in 1139, thus it can rightly claim to be England’s oldest horse fair only the local church is older and the two are linked.  Traditionally the fair took place on the Feast of the Assumption (15^th September) and finished on the Nativity of the  blessed Virgin (8th September) and thus was linked to the church.

Making leeway

The fair became a major event People travelled vast distances to attend the fair. In the Middle Ages Lee Gap Fair attracted merchants from France, Spain, Florence and the low lands of Germany. Not only Horses bur cattle, sheep, goats and other livestock were sold at the fair.

Such was the occasion that people attending are said to have married or got their children baptised and hence the fair was good revenue for the church who had a priest on call the whole fair. Miracle plays were also performed to bring the faith to the masses.  The fair was owned by Nostell Priory until the Reformation when it was granted to a Dr Leigh and the fair moved to West Ardsley and took on his name although written as Lee and I am unsure where the Gap came from. However, there is some confusion over whether the Nostell Priory Fair and the current fair are the same continuation as their fair was five days starting on St Oswalds’s feast day on the 9^th not 24^th and early writers state that it was discontinued ‘centuries ago’.

Interestingly, the Charter does not tie the fair to one site only that it be held in the parish of Woolkirk or West Ardsley. Which is good because its most traditional site was lost to building many years back forcing a new location to be held. However, not only is its location fluid but its function too. Originally it was wool fair only becoming a horse fair as the need for horses through increasing warfare and agriculture forced the necessity.

Fairly well met

On first arrival you think there cannot be a horse fair here its too urban as you survey the neat gardens, hedges and waxed cars in their drives. And indeed, the first site was built upon a few years on. However, soon there appear to be see a parade of cones and then a small handwritten sign Lee Fair at the side of a farm lane. Going down here past some rather large houses the lane snakes down into a small, enclosed field and here 100s have gathered. A detailed sign at the gate informs me of what I can and cannot do there – no racing of horses and silly string stand out!

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A fair assessment?

Attending a horse fair is one of those rare experiences. A completely unvarnished natural organic custom devoid of any tourist pretensions. Indeed, at one point I think I am the only non-traveller there! Certainly, the only one with a camera around my neck which makes me self-conscious as I snap away but despite one boy asking for a photo; I appear invisible and inconsequential to those assembled. Such events always appear to be associated with problems

The horse fair is a window on another world. A world within a world. A world divorced from the mainstream. The stalls mainly sell materials which only suit its close clientele – metal churns, horses’ bits and various nick-nacks. There are of course cloth stalls but again in the main their apparel appeal to those who are there particularly the young girls who view these events as both a fashion parade and an opportunity to meet boys. Indeed, I came across and listened in on one such approach by a boy who runs over and asks ‘excuse me but my friend really likes you will you talk to him?’ None of that grabbing that was parade in the populist media a few years back.

Standing on the corners one comes across groups of old men. They had seen it all before. They appear the more traditionally dressed in their tweeds and barbers catching up with old friends and looking on at the young folk and their courting. Unlike a more formal selling environment with an arena and animals paraded in and out it is in these huddled groups that the horse trading is done. So often seeing or hearing a deal can be a rarity.

Walking around I noticed lots of strands of green, pink, blue materials and soon come across some younger kids attacking each other with kit and then looking like they immediately regretted it and set about removing it from each other’s hair! The silly string! Looks good they heeded then warning!

Every now and then a horse rushes by ridden, trotted or on occasion on its own! The crowd parts and everyone watches – again I am sure they said there was none of this-but I am glad there is because it adds some degree of excitement and authenticity.

Occasionally there are some other animals – chickens and caged canaries seem to be popular, and I see a number wandering around with the birds in colourful quaint wooden cages. The community are keen to maintain their traditions but unlike other customs where such things are kept up, here it seems natural and functional, rather than tradition for its own sake.

A fair representation?

Sadly, fairs and antisocial behaviour seem always to go hand in hand. One only need to delve into the records to see. The earliest being the 1315 Wakefield  Court Rolls which records three complaints brought against John  de Heton. He was accused of assaulting a man and a woman and overturning a stall, causing the owner damages and injuries totalling a loss of forty shillings. Regular accounts in the local press record thefts, selling of stolen horses and pick pockets litter the 19^th century press accounts. Fairs always attract all types and certainly over the years drunkenness, damage to property and indeed bloodshed forced the local residents in 1656 to petition the West Riding justices to have it abolished stating that it was a nuisance and Wakefield market could provide their needs. It did not work of course, especially as the local community had not grasped that the fair whilst open to them was not really for them. By end of the 18th century the fair did indeed last from 24th August (St. Bartholomew’s) until 17th September. As the twentieth century developed it was moved to have the fair only on the starting date- 24^th August and its last day and thus gave the name early Lee and Later Lee.   Alcohol was highlighted as a cause for much of the issues and as such there is no license to sell it at the fair.

Fairly well remembered

Julia Smith in the excellent 1989 Fairs, Feasts and Frolics spoke with a Mr J A Rawson, who she met at the ‘latter Lee’ in 1985. She said that he remembered when the fair was on the Baghill site. She says:

“He had been coming regularly for almost sixty years, and was only fourteen when he bought his first pony there for £4. 10S. He recalled once buying a foal and taking it home on the bus! He had spent his working life down the local pit and drove a pit pony when he first went underground. In order not to miss the fair, he would work the night shift and so have the day free. In the past a Welsh dealer had brought ponies and kept them on the moors at Hartshead to fatten them up for a few weeks prior to the fair, and Mr Rawson had often helped to drive them from there to Lee Gap. A Welsh dealer had been at the fair last year but had not returned this year, much to the disappointment of many of the visitors. Forty or fifty years ago, Irish traders also came to the fair bringing crates of geese and pullets, and the locals would buy a goose from them to fatten up for Christmas.”#

Little appears to have changed over the years since Smith’s description although gone have the:

“big chromium-plated gypsy caravans with their displays of Crown Derby china and their owners sitting on the steps, ‘as if they were showing off their homes and vying to outdo each other’.”

But the display of traditional wooden caravans appears to have increased in their absence as the community looks to continue its traditions. Everything else is almost identical to what greets the curious today she states that:

“the edges of the field were lined with horse boxes, vans and trailers. Horses for sale were tethered at the sides of them and tack, leather and ironwork were displayed on the tail-gates which were turned into makeshift stalls. Some of the traps and carts were decorated with delicately painted designs, I saw little actually changing hands, apart from a pedigree pup and a painting. Men huddled together in groups, deep in earnest conversations; it was here the real trading was done. At various intervals a shout would go up, a path would be cleared down the middle of the field and a horse would come galloping through the crowd, its bareback rider putting it through its paces. Buyers and sellers appeared to know each other, and there were shouts of encouragement or criticism as horse and rider sped by. Two minutes later and warning shouts would proclaim the presence of a huge shire horst being trotted, its owner running furiously alongside. Things would

quieten down for a little while and the huddles be reformed, but before long there was the crack of a whip and a pony and trap would dashdown the field.”

Interestingly unlike other fairs Lee Gap has not been swallowed up by its fringe activities and whilst Smith could watch:

“a man swallow and regurgitate a seven foot long chain! In the afternoon he escaped from a series of bonds and chains, accompanied by a good line in patter.

The business of the day was decidedly the buying and selling horses; four small swing-boats and a couple of slot machines were only concession to entertainment, apart from the escapologist of course.”

Today there are no fringe entertainments, certainly no miracle plays, only than the entertainment of meeting old friends, making new ones and silly string.

Of this buying and selling despite the lowkey nature of trading, I was fortunate to watch a number of deals which involved much too-ing and fro-ing, bluff and counter bluff, persuasion and the final slap of each other’s hands in a motion quite rhythmic and poetic. The deal being sealed and the horse sold.

It is a privilege to be able to see the Horse Fair, one which has remained unbroken for 800 years and whilst it may have its detractors its function being so pivotal to its community means it is a custom that on its own is in no danger of dying out as long as it is protected from those outside forces with their blinkered ways of looking at it!

Custom occasional: Corby Pole Fair

“At Corby near Rockingham, every twentieth year, the inhabitants assemble at an early hour, and stop up all roads and bye-ways in the parish, and demand a certain toll of every person, gentle or simple, who may have occasion to pass through the village on that day. In case of non-compliance a stout pole is produced, and the nonconformist is placed thereon, in a riding attitude, carried through the village, and taken to the parish stocks and imprisoned until the authorities choose to grant a dismissal. It appears that Queen Elizabeth granted to the inhabitants of Corby a charter to free them from town toll throughout England, Wales, and Scotland; and also to exempt them from serving on juries at Northampton, and to free the knights of the shire from the militia law. This custom of taking toll has been observed every twenty years in commemoration of the granting of the charter.—N. & Q. 3rd S. vol. i. p. 424.”

And much as the notes and queries records this is what greats the visitor today on Corby’s most important day.

Be fair

My first and at that time only experience of the Corby Pole fair was unsurprisingly 20 years previous in 2002. I had found out about it from Charles Kighty’s The Customs and Ceremonies of Britain which at the time was one of my sole sources for calendar customs and was curious to see this rare event. However, I must admit it did not impress; true there were the gates and the stocks, but no riding the stang, more of in a moment. It was to all intents and purposes it was just a big funfair sandwiched into a suburb. The sky was grey and the town busy. I did not find it an interesting experience. Thus 20 years later I was slightly wary of what I would experience. To be fair to the fair, I did not experience the traditional proclamation – which the book did not mention, and it was this I was particularly interested in experiencing!

Staying overnight within the village is to be recommended because then you can appreciate the rather surreal nature of being enclosed with a fair village. One of the traditions of the custom is the setting up of the barriers, the tolls, which are then covered with flowers. For 2022 these were set up in three places and decorated with foliage and children’s artwork. Being within the boundary of course also meant no toll!

Fairly early

Fairs like their proclamations and they are always colourful but I would say that Corby’s proclamation is one of the most interesting starting as it does at dawn with the chiming of the bells of St John the Baptist Church in Corby Old Village to gather all the village folk to hear it. I could not hear the bells but fortunately my alarm had got me up early enough and I made my way to the church following the then obvious chimes. There a fair sized congregation had assembled; many of which were press. At the foot of the church steps were three wooden sedan chairs as part of the tradition is the chairing of the proclamation party between the sites. This party consists of the vicar, the Mayor and the oldest resident of the village. Soon the bells stopped and a small choir appeared and started to sing; their sound magically swirling around in the air as the vicar read out the proclamation. Then Rev Paul Frost was given the honour of reading the Charter granted to the village in 1585 by Queen Elizabeth I. After it was read for the first time in public for 20 years of course; the three walked down and settled themselves into their chairs ready to be carried. There was a considerable amount of laughter and nervousness from all involved, as well as considerable press interest, as the volunteers grabbed each corner of the chairs and one by one, they lifted their charges up – first the oldest resident, an overjoyed June Thompson, then the vicar and lastly the mayor, Tafadwa Chikoto.

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The crowd parted and off they paraded down the street to the next proclamation point – a local pub, the White Hart, located at another entrance. Here standing on a wall the proclamation was again read and the party moved back to their chairs…noticing the lack of volunteers I opted to help. Well, it would be another 20 year until I have the next chance and I do not honestly think I’d be able to carry the vicar. Plus I noticed it was downhill from here and surprisingly it was quite easy…and I hoped that it put a good word in for me ‘upstairs’. At the final pub, the Jamb, it had been moved to accommodate the radio show, the chairs were lowered for a final time and the proclamation read for the final time. Then it was time for another Pole fair tradition, missed last time also – the free breakfast! Rather surreally attended by Vikings, knights and ordinary people…

Pole axed!

T. F. Thistleton-Dwyer’s 1875 British Popular customs present and past notes that:

“Why it is held every 20 years has never been discovered, nor why it is called a pole fair. But one theory suggests that when the Danes settled in the area, naming Corby village ‘The BY of Kori’, they brought many customs and punishments with them.

One such punishment, which lends itself to the theory, was ‘riding the stang’.

This involved men who had committed minor offences being carried astride an ash pole or stang. Insults and missiles where then thrown at the punished as they were carried through the town or village.”

Further ‘The Rutland Appendix to Almanacks for 1826’ states

“They went on to describe the demands for tolls from every person who passed through Corby that day with non-payers being made to ride through the town to jeers and shouts from the locals as penance, followed by a period of time spent in the stocks.”

This was one of the aspects I had missed in 2002 and despite seeing the stocks there was no-one in them and at the point of entry I was half minded not to pay so that that I would have to be carried ‘riding the stang’…but I don’t think that was the done thing or not! Photos of the custom show up – including in 1982!

Twenty years on and there were new stocks at Stock’s Lane and plenty of people queuing up to be put inside them for their amusing photo. But would there be a stang? Then by chance I was standing by the stocks when three people arrived two carrying a pole between their shoulders…and then as modern electro soundtrack blasted out the entered into a fluid dance, weaving in and out of each other and the pole in an interpretative dance the aim to avoid the stang! Then after much toing and froing one of them was captured onto the stang and was raised into the air and carried to the stocks. It was certainly a very interesting way of keeping the tradition alive and one which was certainly an improvement from 2002 (I could not be sure that they did this then to be honest)

There was also the traditional procession with large figures of important Corby people, including Queen Elizabeth of course and a colourful interjection of Romanian folk dancers – who indeed added a delightfully unique experience at one of the stages. Later in the afternoon was the pageant, and after a technical issue, was a splendid re-telling of the Elizabeth charter giving in wonderful custom.

There were other traditions associated with the custom which continued – the ox roast and the greasy pole – however, unlike 2002, the dreaded health and safety had prevented anyone attempting it and it was replaced by a photo opportunity…shame but also I thought I was glad that the healthy and safety brigade had not stopped the sedan chair carrying.

Fairly old?

The agreed account is that Elizabeth gave the fair but needless to say that no such charter can be found, but Charles II did confirm the fair in 1682, Furthermore, there is evidence of fairs in 1226. Henry III granted the right to hold two annual fairs and markets. Of the Pole fair first documented account is written in Latin which is said to be the charter authorising the event, which states the last time it was celebrated was the 11^th of June 1821. Furthermore, The Mercury Herald of November 6, 1936 has an article recalling the memories of a Miss Collier recalls attending five Pole Fairs, the earliest being 1842, 21 years later!1862 appears to be the possible date when after which the 20 years was introduced…but why is unclear! Perhaps it was a cost thing? However, the pole fair is a real boost to the local economy and a joyful experience and as by Laura Malpas in an article for Northamptonshire surprise notes:

“The last five Pole Fairs have come at a time when the people of Corby most needed to be cheered and to celebrate life. In 1922, the effects of the Great War were still evident as the village had lost forty-one men, and the fragility of the peace in Europe was still a concern. In 1942, the country was still in the grip of the Second World War and so the Pole fair was delayed until 1947, when the celebration was sweet indeed. 1962 saw the growth of the new town and an increased population as Corby was strong economically, but the following fair in 1982 was very different. Corby had suffered dreadfully from hardship following the decision by British Steel to close the steelworks and let the blast furnaces go out. However, there was still steel inside the hearts of the people of Corby to survive and thrive. The 1982 Pole Fair was a much-needed boost to the locals, and in 2002, the most recent fair held was a great celebration by the newly revitalised town which even today is still experiencing spectacular growth.”

And one could add 2022 with the cost of living crisis and Ukraine conflict. With the fantastic Viking camp, jousting knights, Morris dancers and all the fun of the fair…2022 was one of those rare things for me; much much better than last time! See you in 2042!

 

 

 

Custom survived: Making Simnel Cakes for Mothering Sunday

Recently I have noticed that well-known bakery Greggs had been selling Simnel cakes around March time in memory of the tradition of making Simnel Cake which if the number of recipes on the internet is anything to go by is still a commonly made cake. Here is a clip of well-known Mary Berry making one!

The association with Mothering Sunday has been so great that it became alternatively known as Simnel Sunday. 

Nathan Bailey in his 1721 Dictionary states that:

“Simnel is probably derived from the Latin Simila, fine flour, and means a sort of cake, or bun, made of fine flour, spice, &c.”

Frequent mention is made of the Simnel in the household allowances of Henry the First.

“Cancellarius v solidos in die et i Siminellum dominicum, et ii salum, et i sextarium de vino claro, et i sext. de vino expensabili, et unum grossum cereum, et xl frusta Candell.”–_Libr. Nigr. Scaccarii,”

Why a cake should be firstly established with a religious custom is unclear but some have argued that it derived from a type of bread given out on the Sunday service. Indeed a bread called “simnel bread” is mentioned by Jehoshaphat Aspin, in his Pictures of Manners, &c., of England quoting from a statue book of the 51st of Henry III:

“A farthing symnel_ (a sort of small cake, twice baked, and also called a cracknel) should weigh two ounces less than the wastel_(a kind of cake made with honey, or with meal and oil).”

At some point probably to make it more commercially viable it manifested itself into cakes with the image of Jesus to know the traditional 12 apostles and Jesus made of balls of marzipan!

Edward Baines in his 1836 History of Lancashire records that:

“At Bury, in Lancashire, from time beyond memory, thousands of persons come from all parts, and eat “simnels” on Simnel Sunday.”

However the custom nearly fell afoul of the church:

“Formerly, nearly every shop was open, quite in defiance of the law respecting the closing during “service,” but of late, through the improved state of public opinion, the disorderly scenes to which the custom gave rise have been partially amended. Efforts have been repeatedly made to put a stop to the practice altogether, but in vain. The clergy, headed by the rector, and the ministers of all denominations (save the Romanists) have drawn up protests and printed appeals against this desecration, but, as just stated, with scarcely any visible effect. It is not a little singular that the practice of assembling in one town, upon one day–the middle Sunday in Lent, to eat simnel cake, is a practice confined to Bury. Much labour has been expended to trace the origin of this custom, but without success.”

Herrick in his Hesperides has the following:

“TO DIANEME. “A CEREMONIE IN GLOCESTER.    “I’ll to thee a Simnell bring, ’Gainst thou go’st a _mothering;  So that, when she blesseth thee, Half that blessing thou’lt give me.”

Hone’s Book of Days gives the origin of the name

“There is a story current in Shropshire, which is more picturesque. Long ago there lived an honest old couple, boasting the names of Simon and Nelly, but their surnames are not known. It was their custom at Easter to gather their children about them, and thus meet together once a year under the old homestead. The fasting season of Lent was just ending, but they had still left some of the unleavened dough which had been from time to time converted into bread during the forty days. Nelly was a careful woman, and it grieved her to waste anything, so she suggested that they should use the remains of the lenten dough, for the basis of a cake to regale the assembled family. Simon readily agreed to the proposal, and further reminded his partner that there were still some remains of their Christmas plum-pudding hoarded up in the cupboard, and that this might form the interior, and be an agreeable surprise to the young people when they had made their way through the less tasty crust. So far all things went on harmoniously; but when the cake was made, a subject of violent discord arose, Sim insisting that it should be boiled, while Nell no less obstinately contended that it should be baked. The dispute ran from words to blows, for Nell not choosing to let her province in the household be thus interfered with, jumped up, and threw the stool she was sitting on at Sim, who, on his part, seized a besom, and applied it with right good will to the head and shoulders of his spouse. She now seized the broom, and the battle became so warm, that it might have had a very serious result, had not Nell proposed as a compromise that the cake should be boiled first and afterwards baked. This Sim acceded to, for he had no wish for further acquaintance with the heavy end of the broom. Accordingly, the big pot was set on the fire, and the stool broken up and thrown on to boil it, whilst the besom and broom furnished fuel for the oven. Some eggs, which had been broken in the scuffle, were used to coat the outside of the pudding when boiled, which gave it the shining gloss it possesses as a cake. This new and remarkable production in the art of confectionery became known by the name of the cake of Simon and Nelly, but soon only the first half of each name was alone preserved and joined together, and it has ever since been known as the cake of Sim-Nel or Simnel.”

Well upon cooking my Simnel cake I took pains to boil the fruit and then add it to the mix bake it slowly..and then with the marzipan on carefully place it under the grill..and very nice it was too. My mother was very pleased with it as I arrived surprising her on Mother’s Day.

Custom survived: Corby Glen Sheep Fair

 

In 2021 the east midlands’ largest fair was again called off due to the Covid-19 pandemic. However, a few miles away the second oldest fair was still being set up.  Corby Glen dates back to a Charter granted by Henry III on 26th February 1238. This states:

“Grant to Hamo Pecche and his heirs of a weekly market on Thursday at his Manor of Coreby and of a yearly fair there on the Vigil, the Feast and the Morrow of the Feast of the Assumption. ”

An 1863 in the diary of George Bird states it was:

 “the largest shew of sheep, beasts and horses that has ever been seen on the ground before.”  

The next year 93 truckloads of sheep and other beasts arrived by train. Twelve thousand sheep were recorded in  1876, but the next year only 7,400. It would appear that the custom was in decline for in 1882 he wrote: 

“Corby Fair the poorest I’ve seen, not above 5,000 sheep penned.” 

However, by the turn of the twentieth century it had risen to 6,000 yet 13 years later it was only 4,000  with ” few beasts and foals either” Numbers never reached the heady heights of the late 1800s but the fair continued to trade despite the agricultural depression with the sale of beasts and cattle disappearing leaving only the ram fair. 

And indeed sheep are still the reason for it of course. Yet it soon developed into more than the sheep. The fair further changed after WWII when sheep which used to driven to the fair now arrived by train. However, this changed again in 1959 when the station closed and so all sheep now travel by road arriving in the early morning and leaving that evening. The website describes the scene today:

“Early on Monday morning the familiar pens are erected on every available green space in the village in readiness for the day’s sale and by mid-morning the sheep have been trucked in for the auction. Expert eyes assess their qualities as owners wait anxiously for the bidding to begin and by late afternoon it is all over and the transporters head for home for another year. “

Fair sheep

At the point I arrived there was a very amusing demonstration on sheep breeds and sheep shearing which enthralled all with its mix of facts and amusing sheep. The highlight being what I gather appears to be an annual custom -sheep dancing. The disco music went on and the sheep swayed and moved back and forth to the music! After this amusing and informative show I explored the village more. Of course over time the custom had attracted the obligatory pleasure fair. This appeared in the 19th century when it was held in the Market Place with the traditional sideshows, gingerbread stalls, shooting galleries and boxing booths. Older residents can still recall the mass of stalls in the Market Place with swing-boats and roundabouts, skittling for a copper kettle and in some years, stalls for the sale of goods produced locally that would attract people from the village and the surrounding countryside. Today this is what attracts a large population to the village as it clothes the green swards and snakes through the village’s lanes and streets. Described as on the village website as:

“Stalls are erected in the historic Market Square from Friday onwards with country crafts and memorabilia much in evidence and a fun fair with swings, roundabouts and sideshows is located on the green. There is also a horticultural show in the village school and a display of local produce together with jazz bands, Morris dancing and one year a mediaeval mystery play was staged by pupils of the Corby Glen primary school. Archery demonstrations, local history displays, art and photographic exhibitions, a wheelbarrow race, a conker competition, tug of war, a dog show and even a competition to guess the weight of a sheep – all have found a place in the festivities in recent years.”

But the fair has in the past had another purpose, that of bringing together families who have been split when sons and daughters left the village to pursue marriage and careers elsewhere and this event was the catalyst for a weekend reunion, visits made possible by the coming of the railway which brought travel across counties within the reach of most people. Stuffed chine topped the bill of fare at family get-togethers and on the eve of the fair in October 1867, villager George Bird wrote in his diary: “Mother very busy making plum cakes, cheesecakes and such like.” The widespread increase in car ownership has to some extent diminished the tradition of such gatherings at fair time. 

The sheep fair mirrors the economic conditions of the district and the local farming industry in past centuries when the farmer’s financial year was organised around this event for at this time they were forced to sell sheep to settle rent arrears. The fair, like the village, was in relative decline towards the end of the 18th century but it picked up during the 19th century and in 1863 George Bird wrote in his diary of “the largest shew of sheep, beasts and horses that has ever been seen on the ground before.” He also mentioned that there was talk of making the fair a two-day event.”. 

The agricultural depression of the last quarter of the 19th century had a sudden but decisive impact on the Corby Fair but in the wake of this decline, the associated activities also suffered and by the 1930s the sale of beasts and cattle had died out but the ram fair remained. As a result, the Corby Fair continues today with vigour and enthusiasm and although numbers no longer reach the peaks of past times and market fluctuations continue, there is little likelihood that it will disappear in the immediate future.