Castleton Garland Day Images by Lauren Maccabee
danielmoorey
Every year for an unknown number of centuries, a man of Derbyshire gets decked in flowers, stuck atop a horse and paraded around a Peak District town.
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The Coracle
Sam and Dan finished their fine work at around 4pm. The Garland King mounts a white horse and the main garland is lowered onto him, the Queen Garland (which looks a bit like a head made of flowers) is placed on top of that. He is accompanied by a lady consort on horseback and at 6.30pm the pair lead the procession around the village bounds, stopping at each of the six pubs. Castleton Silver Band play the special Garland Tune (you’re going to hear that a lot), followed by the dancing girls. It rained solidly a few years ago but the kids still danced, folk are tough in these parts. After a spot of Maypole Dancing and a moving ceremony at the War Memorial, everyone returns to ‘all get pissed in the pub’ as one already tipsy local succinctly put it. Not for nothing did this used be called ‘baby night’. If you’re worried about the king being parched, rest assured he has just enough space under the garland to sneak a half pint of beer up it.

Maypoles have traditionally been regarded as a garlanded phallus (don’t google that) although sometimes it seems like every upright structure is. Even oak leaves have long been connected with fertility. George Long in his Folklore Calendar says that May is the ‘merry month’ and recalls children visiting every house singing ‘The 1st of May is Garland Day’. He also tells us that garlands of flowers or oak boughs have had links to May Day parades since the medieval era. So spring, growth, rebirth after a long winter, ‘let’s get it on woo hoo’, as Marvin Gaye sang.

Despite all this paganism and pole dancing, the Church plays a big role in Castleton’s Garland Day. The garland is eventually winched off the King up to the top of St Edmund’s church tower, where it still sits the next day. However, the church town collab hasn’t always run smoothly. According to a former Garland Day chairperson, in 1954 the Reverend Joseph Haydock, ‘the Vicar of Castleton, threw the Garland off the church tower because he said the whole lot was pagan.’ Having received a sign from above, he put a message on the town noticeboard suggesting people ‘get down on your knees and ask why it was done’. All deliciously Wickerman but strangely he was also on the garland committee and the cricket team. The devil within.

More modern challenges come from a shortage of young dancers for the street procession and the Maypole Dancing. The huge increase in tourism and holiday lets has meant a drop in the permanent population. Barely 250 people live in Castleton and only a small proportion are young people. ‘Don’t get me started on that’ said one of the garland making group, even the school is on the verge of closure and the Garland Day in Abbotsbury Dorset is much reduced for the same reason. Young boys are now allowed to dance, but although they joined rehearsals this year, they chicken’ed out on the day itself. One of the organisers felt a woman could never don the main garland as it’s too heavy for them but the England women’s rugby team might have something to say about that!

The Coracle was privileged to meet King John IV (the fourth king to have been called John of course) once the mighty garland was removed. He was revealed not to be a 60 year old farmer but a twenty-something mountain biker with piercings, tattoos, charm and a good bit of chat. His sister was consort and his mother before that but since this was his first year as King, so he was guided by the last King who ‘reigned’ for 20 years. Whilst talking to The Coracle over a bag of chips he reported spilling a bit of Guinness on his period costume but his mountain biking skills helped with balance on the horse under all that heft, even though he hadn’t ridden one before. It’s a less popular job than being the consort but for this King John it was ‘an honour and the icing on the cake’ after years of helping out in other roles. When asked about the stamina required he said with a cheeky smile ‘I’ve had worse jobs’.

The folklorist Roy Judge noted that these celebrations were not ‘a set, immutable pattern, but rather a fluid, moving process, which combined different elements at various times’. Despite the lack of dancing talent, Castleton seems to have a succession plan in place with younger people involved at its heart and flexibility possible in the proceedings rather than setting them in aspic. As Lauren Maccabee, the photographer who took these wonderful images says; ‘There is something really beautiful about the way customs and traditions evolve and change with time, and what it means to the places that have them’. Maybe the last word should go to the youngest dancer though, tiny Lily aged five, when asked what her favourite bit of the day was said; ‘this bit and the sweets’.

All images taken in 2022. See more of Lauren’s fantastic work here and here.

On the day deets can be found on the official Garland Day site and read more history here.

You can read about more folklore in Martin Green’s book or George Long’s.

Sam and Dan finished their fine work at around 4pm. The Garland King mounts a white horse and the main garland is lowered onto him, the Queen Garland (which looks a bit like a head made of flowers) is placed on top of that. He is accompanied by a lady consort on horseback and at 6.30pm the pair lead the procession around the village bounds, stopping at each of the six pubs. Castleton Silver Band play the special Garland Tune (you’re going to hear that a lot), followed by the dancing girls. It rained solidly a few years ago but the kids still danced, folk are tough in these parts. After a spot of Maypole Dancing and a moving ceremony at the War Memorial, everyone returns to ‘all get pissed in the pub’ as one already tipsy local succinctly put it. Not for nothing did this used be called ‘baby night’. If you’re worried about the king being parched, rest assured he has just enough space under the garland to sneak a half pint of beer up it.

Maypoles have traditionally been regarded as a garlanded phallus (don’t google that) although sometimes it seems like every upright structure is. Even oak leaves have long been connected with fertility. George Long in his Folklore Calendar says that May is the ‘merry month’ and recalls children visiting every house singing ‘The 1st of May is Garland Day’. He also tells us that garlands of flowers or oak boughs have had links to May Day parades since the medieval era. So spring, growth, rebirth after a long winter, ‘let’s get it on woo hoo’, as Marvin Gaye sang.

Despite all this paganism and pole dancing, the Church plays a big role in Castleton’s Garland Day. The garland is eventually winched off the King up to the top of St Edmund’s church tower, where it still sits the next day. However, the church town collab hasn’t always run smoothly. According to a former Garland Day chairperson, in 1954 the Reverend Joseph Haydock, ‘the Vicar of Castleton, threw the Garland off the church tower because he said the whole lot was pagan.’ Having received a sign from above, he put a message on the town noticeboard suggesting people ‘get down on your knees and ask why it was done’. All deliciously Wickerman but strangely he was also on the garland committee and the cricket team. The devil within.

More modern challenges come from a shortage of young dancers for the street procession and the Maypole Dancing. The huge increase in tourism and holiday lets has meant a drop in the permanent population. Barely 250 people live in Castleton and only a small proportion are young people. ‘Don’t get me started on that’ said one of the garland making group, even the school is on the verge of closure and the Garland Day in Abbotsbury Dorset is much reduced for the same reason. Young boys are now allowed to dance, but although they joined rehearsals this year, they chicken’ed out on the day itself. One of the organisers felt a woman could never don the main garland as it’s too heavy for them but the England women’s rugby team might have something to say about that!

The Coracle was privileged to meet King John IV (the fourth king to have been called John of course) once the mighty garland was removed. He was revealed not to be a 60 year old farmer but a twenty-something mountain biker with piercings, tattoos, charm and a good bit of chat. His sister was consort and his mother before that but since this was his first year as King, so he was guided by the last King who ‘reigned’ for 20 years. Whilst talking to The Coracle over a bag of chips he reported spilling a bit of Guinness on his period costume but his mountain biking skills helped with balance on the horse under all that heft, even though he hadn’t ridden one before. It’s a less popular job than being the consort but for this King John it was ‘an honour and the icing on the cake’ after years of helping out in other roles. When asked about the stamina required he said with a cheeky smile ‘I’ve had worse jobs’.

The folklorist Roy Judge noted that these celebrations were not ‘a set, immutable pattern, but rather a fluid, moving process, which combined different elements at various times’. Despite the lack of dancing talent, Castleton seems to have a succession plan in place with younger people involved at its heart and flexibility possible in the proceedings rather than setting them in aspic. As Lauren Maccabee, the photographer who took these wonderful images says; ‘There is something really beautiful about the way customs and traditions evolve and change with time, and what it means to the places that have them’. Maybe the last word should go to the youngest dancer though, tiny Lily aged five, when asked what her favourite bit of the day was said; ‘this bit and the sweets’.

All images taken in 2022. See more of Lauren’s fantastic work here and here.

On the day deets can be found on the official Garland Day site and read more history here.

You can read about more folklore in Martin Green’s book or George Long’s.