May Morning

Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

 And other related Middle English gibberish. Now can we go back to bed?

A Wet Beltane

The Archdruid squelches through the pelting drought, down through the marshlands where, before the Great Drought started, there was but dry heath, and approaches the Wicker Person.

Archdruid: As this Wicker Person burns - so may the sun rise on our land and dry up the Drought under which we drown.


She attempts to light the Wicker Person, but fails dismally due to the saturated state of the drought-sodden wood.

All: Stick some petrol on, Eileen, or we're gonna be here all night. And we're getting soaking wet in the droughty drizzle.


Hnaef may leap forward with the lighter fluid or, as it may be, petrol (Don't try this at home) But the drought overcomes even the petrol and a pile of unsold copies of Tony Blair's "A Journey". In a frenzy, Eileen attacks the Wicker Person (now redefined "Wicker Man" due to its uselessness) with her cricket bat, reducing it to soggy kindling.


Archdruid: That's it then, kiddies. Winter's gonna last forever, and no Christmas - mark my words. Let's hit the White Horse.

All: And also with you.

The eve of St Walpurga

Yes I know it's late. And we've all been out at the hand-fasting. But that's not the point. It's May Eve! We've got to stay up all night, light the Wicker Man, have a dance and then sit and watch the sun rise in amazement.
I love this night. Look forward to it every year. God bless St Walpurga I say. A pious saint and very effective against rabies.

May Madness

I'm glad to say that all preparations for Beltane are complete.  The bonfire, made of a whole mountain of pallets, is ready to go at 10pm sharp tonight.  And thanks to a loophole, burning them for religious purposes is defined as "recycling or re-use" and entitles us to an Eu grant.

Beltane is an important and ancient festival.  Naturally, since the ancient Beaker Folk didn't leave anything in writing, we don't know much about it.  But we reckon it was probably something to do with fertility.  These things mostly were.  In ancient times (eg Hardy novels) the young people of the village would head into the woods on May Eve and not come back until the morning.  Which explains why the Beaker Fertility Folk have been looking forward to this evening for months.  The Jack in the Green, burnt after the Samhain festivals the previous autumn, would be recreated in the fresh leaves of the coming season and readied for another summer of dancing.  The 'obby Oss would race around the settlement, harrassing maidens (or men - the ancient Beaker Folk were an equal opportunities religion).  We reckon.

A few bits of advice before the Great Day Tomorrow.

The pebbles piled up in the Orchard are for throwing at the Morris Dancers.  Please don't mis-use them for religious purposes.

The Maypole is an ancient fertility symbol and to be treated with respect.  Shouting "ooh-er missus - what a whopper" is unacceptable.

When we are singing "Summer is i-cumen in", chasing after Burton Dassett with armfuls of willow, matches and a wild look is also wrong.

For this year's Mead Tasting, competitors will strictly limited to one small glass per sample.  The shameful events of last year, when Selwy ended up laying on the ground shouting that she was channeling the spirit of a bee, are not to be repeated.