May Day

I’m away for the May Day Bank Holiday weekend in Hampshire, and the world has changed. The weather atrocious, the journey down was difficult and tiring, but today, it is perfect. I’ve always adored early May. The early spring has gone, Easter, which has always been a busy time for me, has passed and finally the summer has arrived without it being too hot. The green in the trees, hedge rows and fields is getting deeper and deeper. One of my favourite trees, the chestnut, are coming out with their conical blossom. The evenings are warm and calm. The sea is bright, breezy and full of blues.

The 1^st May was last week, but this is the Bank Holiday weekend, where we can take time to celebrate the paganism within us. I’ve always found myself drawn to paganism, which I put down to the romantic within me.  The towns and villages are full of people, and we are all enjoying this rebirth of the yearly cycle. Easter is of course the rebirth, within Christianity and paganism, but it is the beginning of May where it feels real, and collectively we look forward to the year ahead. At the same time, we are also looking back.

Looking forwards

We don’t want to think about the winter we have just been through. The months between January to the end of March are hard. I haven’t written and published anything since December. Instead we are optimistic. We’ve planted seeds for our own small holdings, the allotments, and patioed back-garden “not-much-ments”, and are begging to grow. I have many photographs popping up on my timeline of small plants appearing from beneath a layer of compost in their little pots. I am looking to the strawberry fields in south Hampshire, thinking of the fresh, warm strawberries I’ll be picking in a month’s time. My mind is also picturing salads, and outdoor cooked meals.

In the business world, the year-end finances and reporting has gone, and we are implementing our plans for the year ahead, and organising diaries around the gap created by August.

We don’t think about the cold and persistent rain, those dark evenings and worser still, the dark mornings. All this considered, in this weekend we do look back, but at a longer history.

Looking backwards

This weekend there are certain things we like to do. My local village, Titchfield, here in Hampshire, has a Village Fayre. Note the spelling. I love it when we use, without question, an old word for something today. We instantly connect to it and already have an idea of what it is going to be. Even if the event is not particularly historic, with dog shows, modern dance and Segway driving, the use of the word is meaningful. Is there a phrase we can use for this? It is not “Retro”, or “Vintage”. Technically it is a pseudo-archaic spelling, and I can’t really see that phrase catching on.

Historically, May Day fairs often had Maid Marion at the head of the procession. This is a separate tradition to Robin Hood, which goes back to the late 12^th century. By the 14^th century Robin had joined Marion and were both appearing together in May Day sports and celebrations. I’ve always associated Robin Hood stories withMay Day. Not sure why. I do like the connection between Robin Hood, a socialist figure, and the present day international socialist May Day. Whether the Titchfield Village Fayre procession will have a Maid Marion at the lead, I don’t know. It is a fancy dress procession, and the theme is around literature, so fingers crossed.

The Fayre is more about village pride, identity and community. The village itself has had a significant historical impact on the area, although today one might see it as the quintessential English village. There will be a procession to kick it off and fun through the afternoon, all of which conjuring feelings we have around “Fayre”, nostalgia and this intangible heritage (another technical phrase). Going back in time, Titchfield was more famous for its carnival at the end of October, which packed the streets.

Back to where I live in Hertfordshire, there is a May Day in Standon, which I’ve been going to for a few years now. I wrote a post about the Puddingstone there, which has become cenral to the May Day processions. 15 years ago, I remember the famous Morris being dynamic, full of energy and youth. Today those people have moved on, had families, and the Morris don’t have the same vigour, which they should for this celebration. But the crowds, and there are crowds, don’t care. Its part of our shared intangible heritage, which has been re-imagined many times over the centuries. May Day is the day we go to see the Morris. That’s my plan for Monday.

Some places bring in pagan events and narratives to celebrate. Beltane, 1st May, is a festival that is Irish, Scottish and pre-Romon Briton, that marks the beginning of summer. It is associated with fire, fertility, going off into the woods and hopefully seeing something extra coming out of the woods. Fire is a wonderful focus for a festival, it gives us an end point, the end of a procession, the end of the celebration, and when it burns down, time to go to bed. Heritage venues have started to burn a “Wicca Man” which I am sure is all down to the 1970s cult film. It is popular and brings in income. It may not have much relation to the heritage that is at the venue on a day-to-day basis, but it is something people can relate to. There would also be a whole build up to the burning, with people constructing the wicca man, including local communities and schools, putting it in the chosen place, the build up throughout the day, and finally the burning. It is a whole community ceremony.

I’m avoiding looking at what Beltane is, as that is a whole discussion around mythology, paganism, wicca and Celtic neopagans. Similarly, the Wicca Man has its roots in Iron Age sacrifice of people, for which there is little evidence, and Roman propaganda of the non-Romanised “barbaric” world.

Hands off!

I’ve never seen any May Day celebrations in City Centres, surrounded by tall glass buildings. They instead are local, in histroic centres, and if possible around timber framed buildings. There is something about this weekend that demands a connection with our communities, heritage and a collective nostalgia. Politically, right wing governments have tried to re-frame this bank holiday, give it a new name, and drop the socialist connotations; a Nelson/Trafalgar Day, or Churchill Day. They never have, and I think it would be just too unpopular by far. We need our Pseudo-Archaic nostalgia.