Whitby is a delightful seaside town which a considerable amount of history but it lacks any calendar customs compared to nearby Scarborough and so the arrival of the Krampus run is to be considerably welcome even though it makes no sense whatsoever to have it in the town let alone Britain being a custom restricted central Europe Austria, Croatia and Slovenia but no worries because in a strange way it fits in well with Whitby’s burgeoning Gothic (and Goth) Steampunk scene. For those unaware the Krampus, is a demon who accompanies St Nicholas when he visits the houses of children on the 5th December. Whilst St Nicholas gives out gifts to the good children, the Krampus punishes the naughty often collecting into a bag carried on its back.
Despite the first Whitby Krampus Run being 2015 it has now firmly established itself. For the 9th run the BBC reported in the 2023 article by Julie Bryson Whitby Krampus Run: Festive folklore marked in Yorkshire town reported that:
“Mr Mitchell said the idea for the event was sparked by a holiday souvenir. In 2003, we went to the Czech Republic and picked up this wooden figure who we didn’t know much about,” he said. “We did our research and thought – this will be fun! And it’s grown into what it is today.” He said the Krampus parades which take place in Austrian villages can be wilder than the one they have created, with Krampus often seen running into crowds and whipping them…..We have had to tailor it for our audience.”
As such the article continues to describe the run
“Organiser Laurence Mitchell said: “About 50 people joined Whitby Krampus Run in the North Yorkshire town…Some were dressed as Krampus, in full “fells outfits” including wooden masks – and others were dressed as animals such as foxes or reindeer….Speaking ahead of the popular event, Mr Mitchell said: “We have reindeer heads on sticks, and an old dog cart that’s pulled up the hill that has music and speakers on. We also have drummers and fire performers, who will all stop along the way to perform for the crowds.” Mr Mitchell said the event is designed to bring together European and local traditions, and those taking part will be experience a “salt blessing” where they will be showered in Whitby Sea Salt. Others carry a model of the Whitby Wyrm, a dragon-like creature which legend has it used to live on the headland by Whitby Abbey. Events also include a snowball fight, with fake snowballs, and a stand-off between a fox and the parade’s drummers, the Krampus Krumpettes.”
The costumes are absolutely incredible and it is evident this is no DIY pastiche which the impressive masks being scary and realistic. Much of the morning is spent with small groups of Krampuses (Krampi?) processing and posing for photographs around the narrow streets of the town to the delight and fear of the people and children going about their day.
Then in the afternoon all the Krampuses assembly at the band stand at the harbour side of the town to make their procession or run around the town. The costumes glistened in the bright December light with children being equally delighted and scared worrying they would end up in a krampus bag. The light begins to fail the Krampus become even scarier and as night has fallen accompanied with eerie Germanic techno music they reach the cliffs overlooking the bay and start to dance, swirling around and scaring the audience.
It is interesting as a researcher into customs and traditions is that although one naturally assumes that the custom landscape is fossilised and never changes, bar a few revivals; hovever this is far from the truth and just as commentators wrongly bemoan the loss of British customs (the revivals far outweigh those demised); it would be wrong to say that new customs do not develop or are imported from the diaspora of other nations. The Swieconka is one such custom like the Christingle or Advent crown which appears to be spreading through the churches, although unlike the later it appears to be only Roman Catholic churches for reasons which will be clear as we progress
So what are Swieconka?
Made by children, the foods within have a symbolic message and meaning. The Good Shepherd website helpfully records the interpretations of the components:
“A Yeast Cake (Babka): Reminiscent of the Risen Lord.
Colourful dyed eggs: Symbolise hope in Christ’s Resurrection and new life.
Bread: Symbolic of Jesus, the Bread of Life.
A Lamb figure: Represents The Paschal Lamb.
Horseradish: Symbolises the bitterness and harshness of the Passion of Jesus.
Salt: A necessary element of our physical life and to preserve us from corruption.
Polish Salami (Kielbasa): Indicative of God’s mercy and generosity.
Sprigs of Greenery: Represents joy in Spring and the Resurrection & finally some Spring Flowers.”
How far has it spread?
My first experience of the custom was at the Good Shepherd Catholic church, Arnold, where in an area of third or even fourth generation Polish settlers it has been well established and certainly dates back 30 years or older.
Nottingham and Newark have a long established Polish community and in Catholic churches the blessing of the Easter food, or ‘Swieconka’ is undertaken. Such baskets have been done in Arnold’s Good Shepherd at least since the 1980s. A cursory enquiry on the internet suggests that it considerably widespread. From the Immaculate conception in Clevedon Somerset to Harrogate in Yorkshire from St Mary’s Leek Staffordshire to the Ely in Cambridgeshire.
The website for Immaculate conception Clevedon, Somerset states:
“The blessing of the Easter food, or the ‘Swieconka’ is a tradition that is very dear to the heart of every Pole. Traditionally, food is brought to the church in a basket, with a linen cover, and blessed by the parish priest on Holy Saturday morning. After the blessing, the food is set aside until Easter morning when the head of the house shares blessed egg, symbol of life, with his family and friends.”
St Joseph’s Church Harrogate (North Yorkshire) states that:
“ On Holy Saturday Morning, around 130 people attended the Blessing of Easter Baskets – Święconka. Fr Stephen led the liturgy, and three young people read prayers in Polish. It was a wonderful occasion in preparation for the celebration of Easter.”
In Essex, Witham’s Catholic church records:
“We will celebrate the polish tradition of Swieconka (sh-vee-en-soon-kah) again this year. Everyone is invited to join our polish brothers and sisters on Holy Saturday afternoon.
Baskets of Easter food will be blessed – bread and baked goods, meats and eggs. The baskets are decorated with ribbons and Easter evergreen. In gratitude to God for all His gifts and his grace the Easter food is sanctified with the hope that in the joy of the resurrection, we too will be blessed by His goodness and mercy.”
In Southampton, the tradition has attracted local press interest. In the Southern Daily Echo, the article Food blessing is new ingredient for city’s rich cultural mix 2008 records that:
“Hundreds of people from Southampton’s Polish community attended St Edmund’s Catholic Church bringing decorated baskets containing samples of tradition food to be blessed. The typical “Swieconka” basket contains hard-boiled shelled and painted eggs, bread, salt, ham, smoked sausage, horseradish, butter and cake. All of the food that was brought to the church on Saturday was decorated with spring flowers, colourful ribbons and an Easter lamb moulded from sugar or chocolate.”
A more recent adopter of the custom is St Clare’s Catholic church, Fagley, in Bradford (West Yorkshire)
“Once again, St Clare’s Fagley will celebrate Święconka – the blessing of the Easter baskets – with members of the Polish community on Holy Saturday. This event has taken place over the past 6 years here at St Clare’s and the numbers are growing steadily – over a hundred and twenty people gathered, among them 50 children, many of whom attend our parish schools. Fr Paul Redmond, the parish priest, will lead the service of blessing with the prayers in Polish and English.”
The spread had attracted the attention of the Church times, where David Self in an 2007 article, Mass and Swieconka in the Fens states that:
“Immigrants can be both a source of revival and of new growth for parishes.”
He continues:
“In the town, there may be some typical Fen suspicion of the incomers. But the parish priest, Fr John Doman, believes they are accepted in the church partly because the congregation became used to a Polish pope, partly because the newcomers are conservative by nature, and partly because they so obviously want to be there. There was no trouble, for example, with the introduction of Swieconka, a Polish Holy Saturday service in which food-baskets are blessed.”
Which is an interesting observation. However, what is not evident yet is the tradition spreading beyond its Polish diasporan population and out of the Roman Catholic church into other denominations or even to a more secular tradition.
“Today is Yorkshire Day. Not many people know that, as a very non-Yorkshire person likes to say, and probably not many Yorkshiremen either know or care. It is almost as artificial as Father’s Day, which, as all thrifty northerners know, was created to sell more greetings cards.”
The Times 1991
In 1974 the then Government made the decision to change some county boarders and remove some counties such as Rutland altogether. Yorkshire perhaps was one of the worst hit – the old Ridings were gone, South Yorkshire appeared taking some of Derbyshire with it and Hull was created with north Lincolnshire its own county of Humberside. Understandably many people were not happy with the changes and 20 years later some of the changes were overturned.
Such an act is often a catalyst for a custom and proud Yorkshire people were keen that the historic ridings of Yorkshire were not forgotten and in 1975 the Yorkshire Ridings Society celebrated their first Yorkshire Day as a protest in the city of Beverley on the 1st of August.
The first of August was chosen because it has already been celebrated for many years by the Yorkshire regiments in itself a custom in its own right called Minden Day. The Yorkshire Society every 1st of August since 1985 there has been a civic gathering of Lord Mayors, mayors and other civic heads in different Yorkshire towns and cities. Naturally starting in York, nearly every town and city in the three original Ridings have taken part.
On Yorkshire Day a ‘declaration of integrity’ is read out by members of the society which reads:
“I, (insert name) being a resident of the (West/North/East) Riding of Yorkshire (or City of York) declare:
That Yorkshire is three Ridings and the City of York, with these Boundaries of (which is the current year stated minus 851) years’ standing; That the address of all places in these Ridings is Yorkshire; That all persons born therein or resident therein and loyal to the Ridings are Yorkshiremen and women; That any person or corporate body which deliberately ignores or denies the aforementioned shall forfeit all claim to Yorkshire status.
These declarations made this Yorkshire Day God Save the Queen!”
Around this declaration have arisen all sorts of local events and festivals to celebrate Yorkshireness beyond civic processions and declarations. In 2013 Yorkshire born and bred celebrities came together to give a rousing rendition of the county’s traditional folk song On Ilkla Moor Baht ‘At with Brian Blessed rapping a section!
In 2020 it was Rotheram’s opportunity but virtually of course! Indeed the threat of the Coronavirus did not stop the celebration with Welly wanging, making Yorkshire Parkin and online Yorkshire pudding. In fact the 1st was used by many Yorkshire museums and heritage sites as the day they reopened after lockdown.
It’s not all flat caps and whippets?
Yorkshire people are proud of their heritage as this local newspaper account notes:
“The ‘Official Yorkshire Day Civic Celebration’ now adds pomp and circumstance to a day of pride for a county which is like a nation within a nation: having its own flag, its own language, own anthem (almost) and its own culture. It is undoubtedly the biggest gathering of ‘first citizens’ and civic leaders in the UK and probably one of the biggest in the world.”
The problem with any celebration of a county or indeed a country can that it falls into the trap of enforcing stereotypes as noted by Arnold Kellett from the Yorkshire Dialect Society in Grand day for the white rose county in the The Times. 1 August 1998.:
“We have to be careful not to overdo it, but regional distinctiveness adds colour. I’m against a grey uniformity spreading over everything, which is the way the world is going.”
Indeed, an what would appear to have been a largely ignored ‘contrived’ custom is now more and more embraced to celebrate the uniqueness of the three counties – just don’t mention it in Lancashire!
“The most exciting Christmas custom was that of the Poor Old Horse which perambulated the town from one public house to another.”
William Wise 1888
It is not very often that a revisit a custom – but the Poor Owd Oss, Old Hoss or T’Owld ‘Oss of Richmond is different enough from its southern stablemate to have a separate account – and it is also not often you come across a custom which the great legend of traditional ceremonies, customs and British culture Mr. Homer Sykes, has not attended and photographed – in conversation with him he said he hadn’t heard of it and thought ‘why have I not done that one’. So I thought I would use this post to describe my experiences with the Poor Owd Oss and the history I have gleaned of it.
Take a horse to Richmond
Richmond is a delightful old market town nestled in equally picturesque Swaledale. A place that deserves many customs – it had at least three customs which are unique to the town – the poor Owd Oss being the most curious and certainly entertaining. A town nestling in both racing and hunting territory it is therefore not surprising to see a horse based custom. One which in itself regals in the hunting pink and crops of its attendants.
The words for the song were possibly first recorded academically by Robert Bell’s 1857 Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, under the title The Mummers’ Song; or The Poor Old Horse, As sung by the Mummers in the Neighbourhood of Richmond, Yorkshire, at the merrie time of Christmas who adds:
“‘The rustic actor who sings the following song is dressed as an old horse, and at the end of every verse the jaws are snapped in chorus.”
The song sung is as follows although not all verses were sung dependent on the time the group wanted to spend in the place!:
You gentlemen and sportsmen, And men of courage bold, All you that’s got a good horse, Take care of him when he is old; Then put him in your stable, And keep him there so warm; Give him good corn and hay, Pray let him take no harm. Poor old horse! poor old horse!
Once I had my clothing Of linsey-woolsey fine, My tail and mane of length, And my body it did shine; But now I’m growing old, And my nature does decay, My master frowns upon me, These words I heard him say, Poor old horse! poor old horse!
These pretty little shoulders, That once were plump and round, They are decayed and rotten, I’m afraid they are not sound. Likewise these little nimble legs, That have run many miles, Over hedges, over ditches, Over valleys, gates, and stiles. Poor old horse! poor old horse!
I used to be kept On the best corn and hay That in fields could be grown, Or in any meadows gay; But now, alas! it’s not so, There’s no such food at all! I’m forced to nip the short grass That grows beneath your wall. Poor old horse! poor old horse!
I used to be kept up,All in a stable warm, To keep my tender body From any cold or harm; But now I’m turned out In the open fields to go, To face all kinds of weather, The wind, cold, frost, and snow. Poor old horse! poor old horse!
My hide unto the huntsman So freely I would give, My body to the hounds, For I’d rather die than live: So shoot him, whip him, strip him, To the huntsman let him go; For he’s neither fit to ride upon, Nor in any team to draw. Poor old horse! you must die!
So at each location, the group discuss ‘first three?’, ‘last two?’ In reference to what verses they recite. It is said that there were once 20 verses but the six verses above make sense, it would be difficult to see how any more verses would add anything.
During the song the ‘horse’ performs a number of actions. He even ‘nuzzles up to the huntsmen gallops and leaps, over hedges, over ditches, over valleys, gates and stiles’ and chomps on the ‘best of corn and hay’ and then forced to nibble the short grass and he is turned out to winter. In the winter he trembles with cold until he is finally beaten down by all the attendants with their whips and dies when he is neither fit to ride upon nor any teams to draw’. However, after he falls he is up again in the death and revival seen in all ‘mummer’s plays’
In the past it was accompanied by a fiddle, fife and drum, with a number of attendants, two of which were huntsmen, who carried long whips which they cracked throughout the song. In those days all of the T’owld ‘Oss party blacked their faces, which of course is the best way to disguise oneself.’
This is seen in a photo from around the turn of the century. Not so now and he does not appear to have been so since modern times. Now these attendants were in a well-dressed – possibly the best dressed – uniform as noted of hunting pink and top hats, these being adorned with holly and mistletoe.
I attended on their annual outing in and out of shops, cafes, banks and hairdressers in the town but days before they had done a prestigious circuit of villages and surrounding towns, going as far east as Malton. On the night of Christmas eve they extend their travels into the larger houses of the district being the guest of Aske Hall’s the Duke of Zetland. I was impressed by their routine but what is noticeable that unlike virtually all over such teams they do not collect for charity, indeed there is no evidence of any money collected. I enquired of this, one of the attendants explained that ‘Charity is a very personal thing and they did not feel it was right to impose a charity on people.’ They said they made it clear that any money given went to maintaining the costumes and ‘horse’ which do need to dry cleaned, tidied up and re-upholstered on occasions which is expensive.
Was is also interesting is that the group is not made of off duty Morris, as nearly all over ‘mummers’ are. Indeed, one too issue over the name ‘mummer’ although from an academic viewpoint this is what such customs would be called. Nor are the group, folk singers or folkies in general. No the team were local people who wanted to keep the custom going.
Horse has bolted?
When I turned up I thought I had missed it as a stream of people left the Town Hall and one of two of his attendants separated from the party and only partly dressed stood around drinking outside. Inside the town hall, the group were being feted by the town’s mayor with copious amounts of whisky after having entertained children and their parents in a show. Had they been around and this was their finally? I asked one of the company ‘what time do you start again?’ hopefully.
Julia Smith (1989) in Fairs, Feasts and Frolics states:
“My original informant remembered how she had been frightened when she came upon the ‘horse’ prancing through the streets when she was a child. She thought it had been connected with one family, and she was right, as I discovered when I found Mr Bill Ward. It was Bill Ward’s maternal grandfather Edward Peirse went out with the horse in the late nineteenth century and various members of the family have been involved with it over the 100 years.”
Although Julia Smith (1989) states that:
“the custom has never died out completely’
Though as she herself was told by Mr Ward ‘the horse may have remained stabled for short periods of time’. The Second World War was one period of rest and as Julia Smith states:
“After the second world war, when Mr Ward first became involved, he and his cousin visited a horse slaughterer to obtain a house’s skull which was boiled for them. They fitted the skull with eyes of black glass, painstakingly chipped from the bottle of old wine bottled and rounded on the inside. The skull was wired together so that the jaws could be opened and closed, while the inside of the mouth was lined with red plush velvet. The whole skull was covered with material to represent the skin….the horse…was adorned with artificial Christmas roses and poinsettias”
Horsing around again
Following the Old Oss for the day it was evident it was a welcome sight. We entered a barbers, where one of the team explained it to the hairdresser, into a packed Costa Coffee where the horse attempted to steal sandwiches and drink coffees, interacting with young children with a mixture of fear and confusion. We travelled down to the Old Station where a large crowd were entertained and terrorised. Some appeared to find it a little strange and odd! Perhaps the oddest was in Barclay’s Bank. Here the team were rewarded with mince pies and wine by the bank manager – you don’t get that with internet banking.
Back from the knacker’s yard!
However, this is not exactly accurate as a house or pub visiting custom it appears to have died out shortly after the second world war, in the 1950s. The reason given is the impact of TV. When the teams visited the houses with the Horse, they felt they had been intruding and that people were more interested in the TV. As a result I was informed that the head was buried for a long period in Mr Ward’s back garden.
It was not until the early 80s I believe that a local man interested in the custom, called Mick Sheenan, asked Mr Ward if he could revive the custom. No one appeared very clear on the date but I wonder if Julia Smith’s not being aware of it suggests close to the publication date of her book? It is mentioned in Quentin Cooper and Paul Sullivan’s 1996 Maypoles Martyrs and Mayhem:
“From the week before Christmas, pubs and parties around Richmond, North Yorkshire are the main targets of the Richmond Poor Horse players. These mummers perform and sing the Poor Old Horse which describes a horse’s life and death. One man, dressed in garish mock-horse guise – complete with decorated horse skull – mimes the appropriate action.”
The horse is looked upon a bringer of luck and fertility and indeed as the group moved around people rushed up to engage with the horse, rub its head. However, the visitations have not always been popular and as is experienced by many teams visiting pubs you can find you are not as popular as you thought. In one visit a drunken squady thought it would fun to show it who was tough and headbutted it – the result blood and a broken nose. In another the horse was worse for wear when after accidentally hitting someone at a bar, it was repeated pummelled so much that they had to drag the horse out of the fight!
Horse whispers?
How old is the custom? Bell was emphatic stating that the:
The ‘old horse’ is probably of Scandinavian origin,– a reminiscence of Odin’s Sleipnor
Quentin Cooper and Paul Sulivan’s 1996 Maypoles Martyrs and Mayhem state:
“The creature dies, and then rises again; at which point you realise that you have strayed into totem-beast-as-Celtic-god territory.”
Whilst that is possible that the ‘horse’ remembers something ancient, it is more probable that the song is more contemporaneous to Bell’s time. Steve Roud in his 2005 The English Year places the custom between 1840 and the middle of the 20th century. The death and rebirth is always cited by folklorists as evidence of the ancient origins tied to the dying of the sun at winter and indeed the song does have a similarity to the seasons. However, one can argue so does all life and thus it could be a pure coincidence. I have argued that it was done during winter for pure financial reasons people were in greater need and others such as the landed gentry more generous. Were they trying to remind us of how poor they were with their dead horse? Is it possible that the custom was a simple house visiting custom as like the Mari Lwyd, a welsh horse, in which a team decided to add a song perhaps when it translated across to England? Or are the Mari Lwyd and poor old oss a coincidence? The financial impact of which meant an increase in popularity and the spread of the song. The limit of the song to Yorkshire, north Derbyshire and north Nottinghamshire suggests that it had slowly spread from a point of creation – likely to be Yorkshire – and had not fully spread when it had begun dying out as Roud notes in the mid 20th century. However does it really matter? For some the custom harks back to our old pagan times some like it for the weirdness.
Richmond’s T’owd Oss ended up for the last time on Christmas Eve in the pub where he was beaten to death for the final time that year…but he’ll be back next year no doubt!
If you give us nowt, we’ll steal nowt and bid you good night.
Up a ladder, down a wall, a cob o’coal would save us all.
If you don’t have a penny a ha’penny will do.
If you don’t have a ha’penny, then God bless you.
We knock at your knocker and ring at your bell
To see what you’ll give us for singing so well.”
So goes a short song sung in this case by south Lancashire children as they went around collecting wood for the fire and any money they could for fireworks. The custom appears to have restricted to around the Lancashire and Yorkshire areas, the former unsurprisingly a coal area and each area would have different versions. On the East of the M60 blog some variants are suggested by commenters to a post on Cob coaling. A Peter Swarbrick notes:
“I lived in Denton during the 40’s and 50’s when Halloween was a Scottish custom that we had nothing to do with. When we went calling, the words to our song were as follows: We come a cob calling for bonfire plot
There’s nowt in yon corner but an old pepper pot Fol der ee, fol der ee, fol der ee dum dy day, Guy Guy Guy stick him in the eye Tie him to a lamp post And there let him die Christmas is coming The geese are getting fat, Please put a penny in the old man’s hat. If you haven’t got a penny A ha’penny will do If you haven’t got a ha’penny Then god bless you.”
Interesting to note a link with Christmas showing the creeping early intervention of the custom is no new thing perhaps. Also on the blog a Duncan Graham similarly notes:
“In Hyde we used to sing We’ve come a cob coaling, cob coaling, cob coaling. We’ve come a cob coaling for bonfire night. Good tidings we bring to your your king, We’ve come a cob coaling for bonfire night.”
Also a Rob Standing also notes that:
“The last two lines are new to me, but otherwise the song is identical to what we sang in Hathershaw, Oldham in the early 1960’s, except we sang ‘If you give us owt, we’ll steal nowt and bid you good night.
Small but crucial change (and slightly threatening in retrospect) which makes more sense.”
It appears to have surprised until the late 1970s and early 80s. It is possible that it survived into the 1990s as it is mentioned by Quentin Cooper and Paul Sullivan’s 1993 maypoles, martyrs and mayhem on the 21st October saying :
“in the weeks leading up to November the 5th bonfires have to be built. Nicking gates is not the way to win a neighbour’s affections; and so it was that the organised fuel collecting tradition was born. Cob Coaling was the North’s version of this. It survives around Stalybridge and Dunkinfield, just east of Manchester. Children go from door to door sing cob-coaling songs and asking for lumps of wood as well as money for fireworks. The cob coaling song has the complex and erudite chorus:
“We’ve come a cob-coaling, cob coaling, cob coaling, We’ve come a cob coaling for Bonfire night.”
Sadly despite the memorable song it appears to have died out. The death of cob coaling would appear to have been the same factors that have been claimed to have caused the demise of Penny for the Guy the growth of modern estates with reduced area for bonfires combined with the restrictions on the sale of fireworks. Today cob-coaling is fondly remembered by over 40s and a few folk singers. Although it may survive in some areas you never know!
Nestling in deep valleys with its stone buildings and winding streets, Luddenden looks like a place where traditions survive and indeed on the second Saturday in September crowds assemble to see a wide range of weird and wonderful events from bale, maggot and duck racing – not together of course culminating in a making of a local mayor – a mock mayor, although they are never called that, of Luddenden!
The Mayor making day certainly brought the village alive with a range of events and stalls around the village’s pub and spilling through the churchyard. The bale race was exciting to watch as they raced around the town carrying straw bales on their shoulders. Indeed, there are a lot of races going on – a maggot, duck, bale and pint. The pint race was particularly enjoyable watching a rather fast and then slow race of people carrying a pint in each hand around the outside of the pub. I did wonder why I had not seen this before. And don’t worry there was a tee-totalers one with water.
By half past four crowd had formed around the Lord Nelson Inn in Luddenden to see the 157th Mayor elected (although not strictly true as the event as we shall see when through a bit of a hiatus ). Then the main event the inauguration of a new Mayor. Standing in front of a large St George’s flag and an equally large Yorkshire flag on the raised area of the war memorial, the outgoing Mayor wearing the red coat, tricorn hat, frilly shirt, chain and ermine gave an leaving speech and then it was over to the new Mayor to be announced by the master of ceremonies in morning suit and top hat. The crowd cheered and laughed as the new Mayor gave their incoming speech full of local in jokes.
May or May not
Like other Mock Mayors the custom begun as a slight at the growth of local towns such as Halifax and a self-acknowledgement of the settlement’s own growth. The town resented Halifax’s growth encompassing the town and thus having a Mayor who would govern over the settlement. So if one town could have one why could we not? So in 1861, the customs of the local Lord Nelson Inn elected their first Mayor. To make it official they bought a chain of office to match that of Halifax in its elaborate nature and set about giving the Mayor a suitable location. However, Luddenden could not claim to have a Town Hall like Halifax and so the snug of the Nelson became the ‘Mayor’s Parlour’ with a bench known as the Mayor’s chair.
To be elected Mayor one had to sit in the chair. Whether this was by design or accident is unclear. For the person who sat in the chair would become by custom Mayor for a month. However, they were also invited to pay for drinks for everyone in the bar. It seems likely these two aspects might well have arisen after the decline of the custom and that the Mayor role might have been for a year at least! Then after years in abeyance in 1996 the local community decided to revive the custom. Today local people are invited to become the Mayor back in June when adverts appear in the village.
Now though the Mayor is treated a real bone fide entity, especially by the local press. Like a real Mayor Christmas lights are turned on and social events such as Burn’s Night attended.
It is evident that part of this view that the role is a real Mayor is due to the role the Mayor has in the community. As Committee member and licensee of the Lord Nelson pub, Debbie Collinge in the 2005 Halifax Courier:
“It brings the community together and it is all fun and games. The money from the fund-raising keeps things alive in the village.”
In essence she said it ‘keeps the area strong. This is due in no small part to those fund raising activities. The Mayor has a Mayor’s fund with a committee elected at the same time. Fund raising over the years have included money raised for local swings
Each year the Mayor picks a challenge. These have ranged from cycling the equivalent distance between Paris to the village and raising £1600 for Breast Cancer charities to climbing Yorkshire’s Three Peaks for the Atrial Fibrillation Association. The former being on static bikes and I assume they will be climbing real peaks though!
Luddenden’s Mayor – a mock mayor in principle but one that does not make a mockery of their responsibilities.
We have reported a number of fire festivals on this blog most of which have been associated with Guy Fawkes Day or New Years, but a relatively new fire festival has perhaps the country’s oldest credentials. Ask a person in the street when Imbolc is and they will doubtless look at you in confusion and state when is that? Spelling it out will not help either as its one of those words said differently to spoken! However, to those local to the town of Marsden in Yorkshire and they will know it for its celebration has been a major event in the town drawing 1000s of curious onlookers to witness this colourful custom.
Fire up a festival
How did this unique and remarkable event begin. In the Huddersfield Gazette Angie Boycott-Garnett the organiser records that it was the very cold winter of 1993 which made her think that:
“We wanted to put on an event in the cold winter time when people can feel down…The idea came from a group of us who were part of the now defunct Kirklees Countryside Volunteers and put on a lot of events together.”
Why might wonder why an ancient pagan festival was the event they came up with Boycott-Garnett explains that
“Duggs Carre came up with the idea for the Imbolc festival. He’d heard about the celebration, which takes place in-between two of the eight periods of the Pagan calendar year. Imbolc celebrates the end of winter and the first stirrings of spring, while encouraging the idea of regrowth and renewal.”
What started out as a local small event involving a walk through the woods with key entertainers: fire dancers and eaters and fire sculptures grew and grew. Originally they thought the event would be a one off. Angie talked about how they set up their first event.
“We thought it would be good to bring people together. The first was quite small and revolved around a walk through the woods near Stannedge Tunnel, where entertainers would be performing. We had things like fire sculptures, fire dancers and eaters. We originally thought it would be a one off but the event was very successful. So we decided to run it again but we wanted to make sure that the community involved to keep it going.”
The event has continued to go from strength to strength, although the cost of organising it, around £7000 meant that since 2014 it has been every two years.
Fire in the belly
Imbolc is an old Celtic tradition traditionally followed Candlemas and remembered the longest in Ireland. It was believed to remember the coming of spring and its etymology may refer to the pregnancy of ewes, washing oneself in a ritual cleanse or budding. Whichever the day has become an important one to neopagans and as such Marsden has developed into a major celebratory event for those in this community.
Baptism of fire
My first Marsden Imbolc I did not know what to expect except that it would be evocatively captivating and indeed it was. The event with an atmospheric procession from the Old Good’s Yard. To the sound of bagpipes and drums, hooded figures wearing animal and solar and lunar masks loom into view carrying torches.The most ominous being the large figure of a crow man who loomed over the watching crowds. Said to represent Druids and Celtic gods they certainly added an air of the mysterious. Following up these mysterious figures was a procession of lanterns made by local children and driven forward by a steel band. The crowds which watched this atmospheric entourage joined the end and we made our way to the site of the festival.
There to the rhythmic intoxicating sounds of the drums these masked figures with their torches stood in a formation and swirled around their torches in a spectacular mesmerizing pattern. Whilst they did this tableaux of Spring scenes where light and they blazed in their pure white light against the pitch black night.
Fight fire with fire
The main event is the battle between Jack Frost and the Green Man. This symbolic battle is said to represent the fight between winter and spring. The towering figure of Jack Frost eerily comes into view covered in fireworks he sparkles and spits fire into the air accompanied by masked torch holding acolytes. After his display the Green man makes his appearance. He too is associated with masked and hooded figures carrying torches and accompanied by the sound of bagpipes which drifted through the cold icy air, he was ready to confront Jack Frost. They fronted onto each other whilst the hooded figures of each side swirl and throw their torches to symbolise conflict. The Green man stares into Jack Frost as they stand facing each other and then as the drum rhythm builds Jack turns and is defeated…to cheers, whistles and claps from the crowd. Winter is over and spring is here.
The evening ended with a riotous flash of white light as an array of fireworks launched into the air and overall a wonderful experience sadly one would have to wait two years to witness it again but well worth the wait!
After St. Mary or Our Lady, the greatest number of Holy wells across Britain are dedicated to St. Helen. St. Helen, the mother of the first Roman Emperor to adopt Christianity is a complex folklore figure and authorities have placed her birth at Colchester Essex where there is a well and chapel dedicated to her. It is reported that at Rushton Spencer in Staffordshire, processions were associated with the date 18th August, St. Helen’s Feast Day. Baines notes in his 1836 History of the County of Lancashire:
“Dr. Kuerden, in the middle of the seventeenth century, describing one in the parish of Brindle, says: ‘To it the vulgar neighbouring people of the Red Letter do much resort with pretended devotion, on each year upon St. Ellin’s Day, where and when, out of a foolish ceremony, they offer, or throw into the well, pins, which, there being left, may be seen a long time after by any visitor of that fountain.’”
The Med. Mvi Kalend notes a similar custom was he states:
“observed some years ago by the visitors of St. Helen’s well in Sefton, but more in accordance with an indent ractice than from any devotion to the saint”
At Walton, near Weatherby, Yorkshire, villagers would also visit their St. Helen’s well whose water was said to be effective as a cure for many ailments on this day. A story is told that once the infamous highwayman Swift Nick Nevison was on St. Helen’s Day, found having fallen asleep after drinking from the well, but still alluded capture after an ill attempted capture attempt by some local youths!
Hatfield’s St Helen’s well – rags tied after a service at the well although now not on St Helen’s day!
In Great Hatfield, Yorkshire, there St. Helen’s Well was restored on the 18th August in 1995 and since then on or near the feast day, a service is held at the well. Perhaps not the same as the times of old, and although no one betakes of the water it clearly has become an important part of the spiritual landscape of the community.
“having visited Harrowgate for his health a few years before, he resided for some time at that pleasant market town Ripon, where, on the Sunday before Candlemas day, he observed that the collegiate church, a fine ancient building, was one continued blaze of light all the afternoon from an immense number of candles.”
So wrote a 1790 account in the Gentlemen’s magasine. Yet despite this note reference to this rare survival is no existent. Candlemas is a curious feast which went through a revival in the mid-20th century in a number of churches. The feast celebrates the Presentation of the Infant Christ to the Temple, and traditionally marked the end of the Christmas season (and when the Christmas decoration could be removed). As a custom it is a very curious hybrid of Hebrew – in the remembrance of the tradition of presenting children to the temple and pagan sitting as it does upon the old pre-Christian Imbolc, the coming of spring. The name Candlemas is of course itself rather odd. Most other masses relate to saints or biblical events – this does not.
En-lightening origin
In those dark days of winter, the lighting of candles marked the beginning of the days getting lighter and the rise of spring and the strength of the sun. All pure paganism. At some point the Christians adopted this ancient event and looking at the timing associated it with presentation, a facet still remembered in Blidworth with its unique cradle rocking. The association with candles was convenient as Christ was seen as ‘the way and the light’ and as candles were such a valuable commodity against the evils of darkness the needed to be blessed and be thankful – hence a mass for candles. As the tide turned against such curious Catholic practices at the Reformation, many died out. It survived Henry VIIIth’s purge, but was reformed the blessing of candles was thrown out and so was the Mary’s role focusing on Jesus solely. The custom continued until the late 1700s and as Hutton notes had died out by the 1800s. It is not surprising the North clung onto Catholic traditions longer than elsewhere finally dying out and being revived in the 20th century.
Candle in the wind
A description by Dean John of the church records on the church website sums it up perfectly:
“Many of you will know that here at Ripon Cathedral the Candlemas Sung Eucharist has long been established as one of the most spectacular services of the year. The light from five thousand candles, the glorious music, and several hundred people gathering from across the region all combine, with the grace of God, to make this a great occasion of celebration and spiritual encounter.”
5000 candles surely that must be a record? Where as many churches and cathedrals now mark Candlemas none do it in a way as spectacular and uplifting as Ripon. As one enters the cathedral on the night one’s senses are assailed. Cathedrals in the night are dark, gloomy, foreboding places. The chill runs down the spine…especially on those cold snow laden February nights. As one enters from the crisp air, one enters a glowing magical place of warm both physical and spiritual. There’s the smell of wax and the hushed sounds which only can be heard in some august edifices.
The full wax
A few years ago when the 2nd arose on the weekend I made my way to the service to see this great festival of lights. Throughout the service all modern forms of lighting are vanquished and only that of the flickering candle. Throughout the whole building there appear to be candles, hither and thither, placed feverishly earlier by the church’s vergers and lit equally efficiently no doubt.
The triumph of their work is a giant cross arranged in the chancel with the date arranged in candles, fortunately roped off though but easily observed. The service is of course a traditional one of Evensong, but during it the congregation is invited to process around the Cathedral holding their candles lead by the Bishop. This was a magical moment as we processed around remembering the importance of this great building to the spiritual needs of its community and how it had sat as safe refuge from Saxon times and beyond. There also is something quite magical about the sound of evensong sung under the dimness of a candle. Indeed, Ripon’s Candlemas service can give us a real insight into what the pre-Reformation church would have been like. A mysterious evocative dark world lit only by the candle.
Though as she herself was told by Mr Ward ‘the horse may have remained stabled for short periods of time’. The Second World War was one period of rest and as Julia Smith states:
“We come a Cob-coaling for Bonfire time,
In search of traditional customs and ceremonies 