A day at the Straw Bear

We always have a little chat in the office on Friday afternoon about what we’re up to at the weekend. I think, because I live in the country and can often regale people with tales of long walks, gardening or parties (and perhaps because I embellish a tale), I’m often the star turn. So the other weekend, the conversation went along the lines of:

Davina (who always leads the questioning): What are you up to at the weekend Eric?

Me: It’s Whittlesey Straw Bear this weekend; I’ve been looking forward to that.

Davina: What’s Whittlesey Straw Bear?

Now the Rayner family has been enjoying Straw Bear for many years. The children have been terrified in turn by Nodger (the snapping wooden horse) and he’s also stolen my hat a few times as well as Hannah’s once; I’ve been a fire-eating juggler’s stooge and we’ve been frozen stiff and soaked through many times. We know all about Straw Bear and have watched it grow from a quirky little tradition into quite a substantial folk dance festival, but try to explain it to someone who has no idea about it and it proves quite hard.

Me: well, a chap is covered in straw (thatched basically), then he’s paraded around town from pub to pub followed by a plough and Morris dancers; there’s a church service to bless the plough on Sunday (we won’t go to that) and then they burn the straw.

Davina: With the man still inside?

Me: No, even in the Fens, we draw the line at human sacrifice. But it is basically a fertility ritual and an excuse to drink lots of beer.

Lawrie liked the sound of the drinking, but no-one really got it. I sent Davina some pictures and a video of the Witchmen, but that confused her even more. Why did the men have black faces and sunglasses? Isn’t it racist? Why were there scary-looking women banging big drums?

I’m quite pleased that no-one got it; the last thing we need is hordes of Londoners heading to Whittlesey every January and, to be honest with you, Straw Bear is already changing for the worse. We’ve been going on and off for 25 years. Time was when it was a very small event, very much of the town. When I edited the Peterborough Standard, I sent Steve Henry and Chris Lowndes to cover it. Steve was the perfect choice for a pub crawl (having great capacity for drinking beer) and he followed the Bear from pub to pub. Unfortunately the Bear didn’t hold his ale as well as Steve and ended up lying flat out in the square under the buttercross. Chris Lowndes took the picture and the scoop was Straw Bear gets plastered. Of course, we got the Bear’s side of the story. His spokesman (yes, the Bear had a spokesman) said he was suffering from heat exhaustion and dehydration after parading around town on a very warm (January) day and had briefly fainted before being revived.

We knew he’d got pissed (same as every year) and needed a snooze before being carried home. We didn’t run the story. I didn’t think “man gets blind drunk at beer festival” was much of a story and we all kind of admired his non-PC actions, even before PC was invented as a term.

Back in the day, the event was much smaller. It started at the Ivy Leaf and paraded through town to the square where there was dancing before everyone broke up and went to different pubs. The Bear would visit a circuit of pubs – George, Bricklayers, New Crown, Old Crown, Hero of Aliwal, Boat, Falcon – dancing at each and ending up back in the square late afternoon. After that, everyone was too cold to mess around outside, so they all went back in the pubs.

You could turn up a half ten and there would be a line of people along the route, but plenty of gaps. The Morris and Molly dancers were traditional troupes.

The first sign of change and rising popularity came when other acts started arriving – jugglers, fire-eaters, street theatre, but they were good fun and very welcome. Then the Germans discovered Straw Bear. I think a twinning party had arrived and had such a good time, they went back to Germany and started their own Straw Bear society. I’m sure the drinking had a lot to do with it. Anyway, the Germans loved it so much, they were back the next year with their own Straw Bears and we were very happy to have them.

Pig Dyke Molly

Soon there were junior bears, the primary schools started dance troupes and new troupes started arriving. Some, like Pig Dyke Molly were almost all women and were painted and dressed very creatively like glam rock bands. Pig Dyke dress in black and white and have black and white painted faces, they have a good band which includes a tuba so they create a terrific sound and they also have other amusements such as puppets and a Nodger of their own. Their dances are creative and non-traditional. Pig Dyke became a favourite, always one to watch out for.

Each year, the crowds have grown and the event has become a bit more commercialised. Elgoods brought out a special beer, called Straw Beer, and then others (including Oakham Ales) did the same. Pubs started getting in barrels and having their own mini beer festivals and the bands of dancers grew less and less traditional. There was Gog Magog, with colourful faces and jester outfits; Kettering Witchmen with black faces, sunglasses and a band of drummers that really get a beat going. The mix of new and traditional was not (and is not) a problem. Traditional dances must have been new at some time and every generation must put their own spin on things.

I wouldn’t want Straw Bear to be trapped in amber, but (perhaps it’s an age thing) I wouldn’t want it to change too much more. We can just about accommodate the Appalachian step dancers, but we don’t want Diversity (I don’t think). Tom and I decided that this year, the standard of some of the teams was just awful and we agreed that things always started to go a bit wrong when you got women involved. Morris dancing is a male pursuit and it is very much about drinking. Men tend to be happier when things stay the same – we know what to expect and whether we like it or not. In short we’re traditionalists. Women, on the other hand, are always seeking to change things. Instead of traditionalists, they are fashionistas.

You can see this at home. I’m happy with the layout of the furniture in the lounge, but Margaret always wants to move it around. And it’s not just the lounge, sometimes she wants to move the dining room into the office. Get women involved in Morris dancing, worse still, let them dance and pretty soon you’ve a new costume, new dance (with none of those crude gestures), there’s a children’s section and you’re meeting in the leisure centre not the Rose & Crown.

Of course, I exaggerate, but there were some pretty poor dancers this year, including one troupe that did a variation on a broom dance with Vileda brushes just bought from Tesco.

Straw Bear will remain one of the red letter days in my calendar – a lot of the changes have been for the better and it’s a terrific event. Just don’t tell too many people about it.

Gog Magog Molly - what happens when
women get involved

Proper blokes Morris dancing