However, I have missed so many opportunities that I now force myself to put the newspaper aside, get up from my armchair, and go (“just do it” as the marketing people at Nike would say).
So a couple of weeks back I drove to the north-east of the county to a village where an ancient sporting event takes place at the beginning of each year. The event is a mixture of pub crawl, primitive rugby scrum, and half-forgotten superstitious ritual. The origins are nominally medieval (associated with a local legend), but are probably prehistoric.
Arriving in the village I parked my car well away from where the event was to be held (the proceedings involve a general melee in which cars have been damaged in the past). Streams of people were walking purposefully along the road in the direction of the centre of the village. It reminded me of the streets around White Hart Lane when Spurs are playing.
As I walked further along the High Street the atmosphere changed. Instead of moving people, more and more groups were stationary, spilling out of the village pubs and standing drinking in the street. A shop advertised hot venison casserole (with chips) as a special dish of the day.
As I got closer to the village church (the event began just outside) the crowds became very dense - about a thousand people with more arriving all the time. I got up onto a low wall where I could see back down the High Street (above) which was becoming packed with people. The air was becoming noticeably colder, and the sun was getting lower in the sky.
After waiting about forty minutes (in the cold) I saw a small, colourfully dressed group threading its way through the crowd, disappearing for long intervals into one or other of the pubs where they were given free drinks and everyone sang traditional folk songs - John Barleycorn, Drink England Dry and The Farmer's Boy. The group consisted of fourteen people: twelve “Boggins”, a “Lord” and a “Fool”.
When the group approached the church wall (on which I was standing - I was in a very good position) the Fool made a ritual attempt to escape and was captured by the Boggins (in red) who carried him back (apologies for the slightly blurred photo - they were moving quite fast).
The Fool was placed on a big block of stone (locally regarded as a mounting block for getting on horses, but Pevsner identifies it as the stump of an ancient cross). He made a speech (which I couldn’t hear) and waved around a tightly rolled leather hood. A small heap of damp straw was set alight and the smoke encompassed the Fool (in the past the straw bonfire was much bigger and the Fool would actually be thrown onto the fire and have to scramble off - obviously this would today violate Health & Safety guidelines).
After giving his speech the Fool led the crowd along the High Street to the edge of the village (not very far) and onto a big area of rough ground (supposedly uncultivated since the Middle Ages). During this walk he is allowed to kiss any girl he likes. Many people came up to shake hands with him (for luck).
Above: The ribbons on the Fool’s costume are similar to other traditional characters in English folklore (this is a photo of the cover of a book - not sure which character this is).
The contest begins with the Fool throwing a number of rolled up sack hoods, which children try to catch and run with off the field. The rough ground is extremely difficult to run on, and most of the youngsters would fall over before they had gone very far (“you can easily break a leg”). When the hoods are taken off the field they are returned for a small cash prize.
The main game consists of a gigantic rugby scrum (called “the sway”) in which about two hundred (mostly) men try to manoeuvre the leather hood from the centre of the field and into one of four nominated pubs. The game goes on for hours, sometimes all night. When the hood is finally pushed into one of the pubs it remains there for one year (beer is poured over it, it’s hung up behind the bar, free drinks are given out).
The Lord and the Chief Boggin. They are wearing traditional costumes of hunting “pink” and top hats decorated with flowers, feathers and badges. They act as referees during the “sway” (which can sometimes get out of control).
I am extremely disappointed with this photograph which was taken during the children’s meleé (when they are competing for the hessian hoods) - at the time it seemed a maelstrom of running and shouting figures, but in this picture it looks relatively calm. The sun was going down rapidly, so I wasn’t able to get any photographs of the “sway” itself. It was also becoming bitterly cold, so that my hands could hardly work the camera.
Co-incidentally, on Saturday there was a documentary on BBC2 about William Marshal and his mastery of the “meleé”.
The traditional interpretation
The game is supposed to date from medieval times. A great lady was riding through the village when a gust of wind blew off her silk hood. Farm workers in a field chased after it and eventually one caught it, but was too shy to return it to the lady. He gave the hood to another of the farm hands who brought it back to its owner. The lady called the worker who brought it to her a “Lord” for his courtesy, and the one who had actually caught it a “Fool” for his bashfulness. On a whim she ordered that the field be kept in perpetuity as a venue for re-enacting the event on an annual basis.
The anthropological interpretation
The field lies adjacent to bogs where the prehistoric mummified bodies of hooded people have been found. These mysterious “bog people” have been found all over northern Europe. They are thought to be human sacrifices, carried out by the Celtic peoples at mid-winter to ensure the return of the Sun (vital to growing the crops).
More on the bog people: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bog_body
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