Andrew Hemsley talks about the Hastings and Sussex traditions he loves

In the first of a series of articles local born Andrew Hemsley, writer, and journalist for the Hastings and St Leonards Observer, tells HOT’s Chandra Masoliver about Hastings festivals that he is involved with that celebrate the seasons.

CM: In your previous article in HOT we learnt about Jack in the Green and your feelings about being a bogie over the years; what other old Hastings and Sussex traditions do you celebrate through the seasons, and what do they mean to you?

AH: I like to see my year as a series of seasonal way-markers and traditions have always played an important part in that. It’s reassuring to measure the passing years in that way. There are so many things in life that you cannot control, yet these represent constants. They are anchor points.

As you have said, Jack in the Green is pivotal and always will be. But for me it all starts on the very first day in the year – January 1 when I play music for the Border Morris tour of the West Hill. It involves a ragged procession of dancers wearing rag coats and masks, through the streets. It starts in a pub at midday and continues until around 6pm. In the old days it was very pub-centric, but now, of the seven or so pubs we visited at (and danced in or outside) just two on the route remain. We have also stopped at houses along the route where people have been kind enough to provide us with alcohol and other sustenance in return for a few dances. In that respect it has elements of the Scottish first footing tradition. It’s very ancient and traditional to be received at houses and perform outside. Now there are more house stops than pubs.

The tour was started more than 30 years ago by the late Dave Roberts, a fine musician and dancer with Mad Jacks Morris, who lived on the West Hill and wanted to organise an event for that area. He taught people the dances, which originate from the Welsh border towns in Shropshire, like Much Wenlock. I have never missed a year and have walked the route in everything from bright sunshine to snow and ice, including one year in rain so torrential that the bellows of my squeeze box melted. It’s like Jack in the Green – not going out is not an option. I even walked the route playing the tunes, accompanied by Lynda Ridley providing horse-shoe percussion, on the New Year’s Day the event was cancelled due to Covid.

The thing I particularly like about that event is that the route passes through some of the poorer streets of the area. It’s so heart-warming to see mums, wearing onesies, with their young children, coming to the door to watch. It’s been going on so long that those who watched it as children probably have children of their own now. I grew up on the West Hill, the procession even passes my old house in Whitefriars Road, where my mum still lives, so it has real meaning and importance for me.

Beyond Jack in the Green, it’s the autumn and winter festivals that have real meaning for me. Perhaps it is because the darkness provides more of a timeless, pagan, atmosphere to traditions such as Sussex bonfire, mummers and Wassailing apple trees.

CM: Bonfire night is great in Hastings, how do you take part, and how does it feel to you?

AH: I was Captain of Fire Carts for the first decade after the bonfire tradition was revived in Hastings by Keith Leech. That involved being responsible (often irresponsible), for the low metal carts at the rear of the procession. It involves picking up discarded flaming torches, many still aflame, and throwing them into the cart – sort of pyrotechnic dustmen if you will. I love the loud clattering sound the flaming carts make as you drag them along. Bonfire literally became too hot for me and after a few fiery confrontations I decided I needed a break from it. This year though I plan to return to the fold – fire carts again – I literally couldn’t do anything else.

CM: And mummers, what is their history, and who have you played?

AH: I have been going out with the Hollington Tipteerers for decades now. We are the last remaining mummers group that don’t advertise where and when we will appear. We pick a town or route and turn up at pubs unannounced, taking our chances. If you read Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy, you will find an account of mummers waiting outside the pub in the cold and snow to come in one by one to play their part. That’s exactly what we do. Large parts of the play were collected from an old boy who lived in Hollington when it was a rural village, and remembered seeing the mummers come around. Tipteerers is the old Sussex word for mummers.

For decades I played the same part. In our play, as it was collected, it was the part of Hi Gwyre, an experienced, war-scarred soldier in the service of King George. In other plays it would be very similar to The Valiant Captain – essentially George’s man at arms, his champion.

My opening lines, coming in after King George, were always: “In comes I, Hi Gwyre, with my face as red as fire. I’ve been through Italy, France and Spain. Here I am returned again. It’s many the battle I have seen and many the battle I’ve been in – for the sake of George our King.” I always like to play it in a coarse, rough and ready way, befitting of the character.

In recent years I have ascended to the throne and have played the part of King George, due to illness of the true King. It’s a part I have enjoyed well enough and I actually get to do some fighting, crossing swords with the Turkish knight. But I hope the King hasn’t totally abdicated as I was always really fond of the Gwyre role and would be happy to reclaim it.

CM: What is Wassailing, and what do you feel when you’re there, out in the dark and cold with the fire blazing?

AH: Wassailing of apple trees is known as ‘Howling’ in Sussex and Kent. It’s remarkable that an Anglo-Saxon custom to frighten evil spirits away from apple trees in the depths of winter still persists to this day. It’s a winter tradition that seems to plunge through time, involving shouting old rhymes at bare winter trees, leaving tributes to the birds and passing a communal bowl of hot spiced cider between the company as we toast each other and the trees. Like the trees themselves, it feels deep rooted.

Wassailing is much more communal, with no real set roles. I invariably share the duty of master of ceremonies with others, because I know and remember the old starting rhyme of the Sussex chant:

Stand fast root, bear well top.
May God send us a good howling crop – every twig apples big, every bough apples enow.
Hat’s full, sacks full. Three bushel bags through – and a little heap under the stairs.

That is the signal for noise making, the banging of pots and pans, sounding of horns – the rough calamity to drive away evil spirits that may be lurking in the trees.

It’s a short part of the ritual. The real credit should go to those who organise it, turn up early and ensure everything is in place. I just show up and shout a bit then drink cider. Wassails, like many of these ongoing traditions, need curating, and the current, very capable curator is Mark Duncan, who took up the torch from the ever venerable John Beeching, who started the new wave of Wassail in the Hastings area. He is a giant of tradition in so many ways, and a real inspiration.

CM: Are there any other traditions here in Hastings that you’ve played in?

AH: Not all local traditions survive, some flare up and sputter out. One such was the Mayfield Blacksmith’s festival that took place in late November in the Sussex village of Mayfield.

The festival honoured the Mayfield tradition which has it that St Dunstan, the village blacksmith, was visited by the Devil who, dressed as a woman, attempted to seduce him. St Dunstan spotted the tell-tale cloven hooves beneath the dress and quickly caught the Devil by his nose with his blacksmith’s pliers, giving it a good twist. Howling in pain, the Devil disappeared back to hell.The event saw blacksmiths wielding hammers and horseshoes facing off with devils in a colourful and noisy confrontation in the High Street. Prior to that, there was a procession which saw the actual village blacksmith hauled up the hill from a pub to the high street, seated, along with his anvil, on a cart. It was a great event but sadly died out.

A few years later Keith and Heather Leech decided to revive a Catterning and Clemmening tradition in Hastings Old Town on the last Friday in November; it is the only example of Catterning and Clemmening that exists in the country today. It has similar connections, as St Clements is the patron saint of blacksmiths. I love this as it is much more low key, almost like a secret Hastings tradition that has yet to be discovered or uncovered. A handful of people performing something meaningful.

I never engaged at first, still mourning for the Mayfield blacksmiths. I didn’t even attend for a while, but then they were short of the blacksmith/Clem character one year, when it was even more low-key than usual. The people driving it were my old mentor Keith Leech, whose sense of tradition has always flown as a true arrow for me, and my former partner Heather, now married to Keith, who has always embraced these things, and who I continue to see as the sister I never had. How could I refuse? I did it, played the role of St Clement, wearing a black boiler suit, face smudged with soot, and bloody loved it.

I loved the intimacy, that there was barely anyone there to see it, loved taking it around the pubs and seeing the confusion on people’s faces. It instantly felt authentic and real and is a wonderful antidote to higher profile roles I have had in big public events such as Jack in the Green as bogie, or Captain of Fire Carts. There is such a great satisfaction in knowing you are keeping alive a flame that has died out everywhere else. And let’s be honest – looking forward to being part of a tradition on the last weekend of November when many are reluctant to venture out of doors, is very special.

 

Andrew Hemsley’s next interview will look at how it feels to be Hastings born and bred.

Also in: Hastings People

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