Fairfield Halls, the municipal venue, hosts an event which, one year, saw cages set up outside. People entered the cages so that they could stroke and touch tame wolves, born and bred in captivity. Whilst this was going on, others inside the building were attending brief classes on subjects such as making a magick wand or knot magick, listening to a famous psychic who had a television show or watching morris sides dance as the spectators drank mead.

The overarching event that encompassed all of these things was called Witchfest. It has been running since at least 2008, with most of the meetings being held in Fairfield Halls in Croydon. During that time there have also been shops in the town itself, some of them units in larger buildings, that have tapped into the lifestyle ancillary to pagans and those who incorporate magick into their lives in one way or another. One or two pubs, whilst not being outwardly pagan, operate in a parallel way, appealing to Goths and souls with a similar direction of social travel. The question began to tickle my mind; why Croydon? Outwardly the town has little about it to suggest itself to aficionados of alternative culture. Like its polar opposite twin, Romford, Croydon is a busy, modern shopping centre on the outskirts of Greater London, sporting one-way systems, railway stations, modern shopping centres, pubs, clubs, and supporting extensive suburbs. It’s all very mainstream and consumer-friendly. Also, like Romford, it’s a town of surprising antiquity given the contemporary accoutrements built over it. There may have been a Roman staging-post for officials but, at the very least (and possibly of some surprise to modern dwellers), Croydon built up around an estate owned by the Archbishops of Canterbury. The Church ran the town for centuries. Decisions made by the archbishops were responsible for turning the former estate into a bustling town, such as starting a market in the grounds of the manor house on the estate; a manor house that became the holiday home of subsequent archbishops. The current shopping mall, the Whitgift Centre, is actually named after John Whitgift, one of the Archbishops of Canterbury who helped to shape the growing town. There is also the fact that an appointment in the Church of England in Croydon is a positive thing for aspiring clergy.

There are obvious reasons as to why Croydon was chosen to host Witchfest that spring to mind almost unbidden, such as financial; somewhere on the edge of London is going to be cheaper than, say the Albert Hall, personal; the organisers live there and they won’t have to go far to set it up and to attend, convenience; the organisation’s base is already there so its helpers are already on the spot. The shops selling ephemera connected to the goth/industrial/wiccan lifestyle could be explained by them being peripheral to the annual extravaganza of Witchfest and orbiting around the organisation that runs it, the Children of Artemis, for the rest of the year. What interests me is the continuation of activity associated with spirituality that runs like a thread throughout the course of the long history of Croydon, despite the burgeoning consumerism that also clings to it for almost as long a period. The sacred and the profane; it is an old theme summed up in Britain where the village pub is near the church.

I suppose that what I wonder is whether, somehow, the long amount of time that an organisation dedicated to the ineffable has imprinted upon the locale, a genius loci, as it were? Have the centuries of influence and the shaping hand of the Church of England left a residue on this otherwise pedestrian part of the world that has been picked up on by pagans and/or the spiritually unaligned and amplified back at us? The problem is that these are all intangibles. No-one can point at any empirical evidence and say “This proves that the Church left pools of holy energy to be utilised by whoever came after”. Spirit, after all, is materially intangible and defies proof. The materialistic world we occupy will only say that the Church was in Croydon for centuries and now pagans are here because it’s a bit dull in the suburbs and being a witch is more glamorous than collecting stamps. I will continue to sniff around the edges of what I consider to be a conundrum because there is something that I cannot shake about it all.

Witchfest and the Unconvention

Looming on the horizon is what I like to think of as Paranormal Conference Season.  This, the month of November, is when like-minded folk head off to large buildings to hear from experts in the fields of knot magic, the real truth about Jesus and not that church stuff, magic lanterns (the Victorian projector as opposed to pumpkins) and ghost-hunting.  There are two main events that interest me amongst quite a few in this fair city that take place very loosely around Samhain (or Hallowe’en, as it is more commonly known).

Both conventions have some things in common.  Both are large events drawing folk from all over Great Britain and points abroad.  Both have larger, main events with lectures and happenings in side rooms, performances and stalls selling goods more or less appropriate to the happening.  Both also have celebrities that the wider public may not have heard of or taken notice of too many times but have strong followings in their respective worlds.  Figures that spring to my mind are Kate West (Witchfest), who is a witch who has published guides for taking up that way of life; Professor Ronald Hutton (Witchfest), who is an authority in several areas pertaining to the witchy path; Jan Bondesen (Unconvention), a consultant rheumatologist who speaks about a very wide range of fortean topics and has published well-researched books upon such things and Jonathan Downes (Unconvention), a cryptozoologist and Director of the Centre for Fortean Zoology.

The first that I mention here is the more specialised of the two.  Witchfest claims to be the largest witchcraft festival in recorded history.  It started in 2002 and, from a glimpse online, 2011 looks to be as full a programme of events and performers as ever it was.  It takes place at Fairfield Halls in the holy suburb of Croydon.  I say ‘holy’ because Archbishops of Canterbury were Lord of the Manor since the time of William the Conqueror, and still act as patrons to this day.  The Archbishops not only had substantial holdings in the town but were in all probability responsible for its current, bustling status as a commercial centre.  They applied for a market charter and the town grew and never looked back.  I suppose that, given the appearance of Witchfest, the term ‘sacred suburb’ might be closer to the mark these days.  Witchfest is a one-day festival.  It makes up for this by running over into the next morning with many musicians of appropriate styles (folk, goth, mediæval, punk, industrial and points in between) that appear after the talking and stalls have been spirited away.  Despite being (in my eyes, anyway) the more specialised of the two, Witchfest has a broader appeal.  I, for want of a much, much better comparison, call this the Buffy effect.  I am confident that most of you reading this (and if you’ve come this far then well done!) will be familiar with the television series Buffy theVampire Slayer.  Since this teen-comedy-meets-children-of-the-night show wisecracked its way into popular culture in 1997, the occult side of teenagers (which I strongly suspect covers mainly clothes, make-up and the occasional how-to book, but I sincerely hope that my cynicism is misplaced) has been noticeable and transmutes itself into ticket sales and purchases from the traders, who stock everything one is likely to need to dress, cast spells and even drink like a witch (mead, anyone?).  The speakers also reflect the width of interest covered by the event.  They range from David Wells, who has appeared on TVs Most Haunted as the show’s resident medium, to Professor Ronald Hutton (as mentioned earlier), probably the UKs most prominent academic on paganism.  There is a strong emphasis on performing, with Morris-dancing in the foyer and the music later on.  One is also invited to attend opening and closing rituals, which serve to remind the visitor as to why he or she is there.  Many of the crowd are so richly attired in mediæval-inspired outfits (although these days, Victorian-influenced Steampunk clothing is becoming de rigeur) that they seem to be part of the more professional side of the event.  To sum up, the day is quite a riot of talks, drinking, shopping and entertainment, and generally caters for the interested “layperson” and casual dropper-in almost as well as those who have a dedicated life to the Craft.

Which brings us to the Unconvention.  Those of you who have visited this blog before may have happened upon my entry for the Fortean Times, a UK magazine covering strange phenomena and taking its inspiration from the American writer Charles Hoy Fort.  The good folk behind FT decided that one could not have too much of a good thing and started a conference that they titled the Unconvention – I’m sure that I don’t have to explain why.  The first such gathering was in 1994.  Unlike Witchfest, Unconvention has moved around, venue-wise.  This year it will be at the Camden Centre in close proximity to King’s Cross station.  One of the superficial similarities is that it covers subjects that fall under the heading ‘paranormal’.  However, despite this, the most striking differences between these musterings is that the subject matter in Uncon is much broader than Witchfest; ghosts, UFOs, parapsychology, parapolitics and cryptozoology just to name a very few.  Despite this, the crowd who attend seem more committed to the data (there is not the same emphasis upon entertainment, although it does appear – witness the burlesque shows of previous occasions) and no-one dresses up – to my knowledge at least.  So, in some important ways, Uncon is a more serious proceeding, with experts from many exotic fields gathered together over two days in Central London.  There is also no ritual of any kind as none is felt necessary or relevant.  What the latter may not have in spectacle it certainly makes up for in diversity and the sheer number of differing opinions that it brings to bear upon the unknown.

At the end of the day, it is all down to what one is looking for in your chosen event.  If you specialise in witchcraft or just want to unwind to a specific vibe, then Croydon East will call to you with its siren train horn (ahem).  If you feel seriously about strange stuff outside of enchantment and sorcery then it’s a more northerly station you may find yourself alighting upon.  Bit of irony, though, as it’s the other way round for Harry Potter fans.

Morris Dancing - Unloved Englishness

Photo: Jim Champion

We are all very familiar with the modern contempt that Morris dancing is held with.  So many things come and go as far as fashion is concerned, and it seems that this tradition became associated with a pastoral way of life that nearly all of the country had left behind when the factories beckoned and football and the music hall moved into those places people’s hearts reserve for their loyalty to such things.  Morris dancing was, as was the way with many things that were associated with a lost way of rural life, ‘revived’ on several occasions, the most recent being in the 1960s that accompanied a wider folk music revival.  Before then it has been dated back to dancers at court in the fourteenth century.  The dances devolved over the centuries, spreading from the royal household to church festivals, then, as the Puritans took over, hardly anything at all.  When they moved from kingly splendour, so did the costumes, and the poorer folk tended to forego the splendour of court costumes in favour of ribbons and bells attached to their everyday clothing, the continuation of which can be seen in today’s Morris costumes.  As with most gaiety, it didn’t come through the thirteen years of Cromwell’s Commonwealth well and, like Christmas, faced a steady decline.  When the Industrial Revolution broke up many communities in the countryside and workers flooded to the towns and factories, much in the way of tradition was not only forgotten, but deliberately cast aside as being out of step with new life in the cities.  It was preserved by four teams in Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire and sought out by folklorists from the late nineteenth century onwards as they rediscovered it.


Despite the generally accepted tradition that Morris dancing is so-called because it was brought into England via soldiers returning from the Crusades, and hence corrupted from Moorish dancing, what evidence there is does not back this up.  Shakespeare mentions Morris twice; “I have seen/Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,/Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells. (2 Henry VI Act III scene i)” and “As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. (All's Well that Ends Well Act II scene ii)”.  This shows that Morris dancing was established by his time of writing and a tradition so common that the audience understood these references.
As would be expected with such a venerable pastime, there are many regional differences in dance, music and costume.  These have come down to us under mainly regional names, although even these, as with other ancient traditions, could vary a fair amount from town to town.  Other old dances, however, such as the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance, are distinct from the Morris tradition and (in this case, most certainly) predate it substantially.  It is worth noting that the Horn Dance is still performed to this day and can be seen on Wakes Monday, the day following Wakes Sunday, which is the first Sunday after September 4th.
The real beauty of Morris dancing, apart from preserving a part of our national heritage that property developers and local councils cannot touch, is that it is very much active and real.  As with much English culture, Morris has been successfully taken with expatriates to some rather far-flung corners of the globe.  As would be expected, it is the English-speaking nations that mainly embrace the eclectic nature of this style of dancing, with a slight, yet welcome, surprise being that of the Hong Kong Morris.  
Many local events have a performance by a local side, and they can occasionally be seen outside (and quite a lot inside) pubs and inns.  There are large annual events that are intertwined with Morris.  The most famous of these is The Rochester Chimney Sweeps Festival, which takes place around the May Day holiday.  Here is a large gathering of sides from all over the country and the festival also involves a parade of the dancers and their accompanists, plus performances by the cream of the nation’s folk musicians.
On a personal note, whenever I have watched Morris dancing, it affects me in the same way that looking around an old stone church or drinking in a village pub with exposed wooden beams.  It’s soothing yet electric – a direct connection to our past.  It does not matter that the church has been desecrated by Cromwell’s Puritans and revamped by well-meaning Victorians.  It does not matter (too much) if the old pub has brilliantly-lit lager pumps.  In that same spirit, it does not matter if the Morris dances are not strictly local, or if the ribbons are polyester and the bells made in China.  What matters is that something that was relevant hundreds of years in our past is still relevant, living, lively, entertaining and part of us to this very day.
I last saw Wolf's Head and Vixen Morris in the foyer of Fairfield Halls during Witchfest, where I was sitting on a bar stool with a glass of mead in my hand.  They have a distinctly modern twist on their dress, adding such touches as dark glasses to their all-black ensemble, but their dancing adheres to a distinct tradition and it is a joy to watch and a sight to gladden the heart.  Long may they dance!

Wolfs Head and Vixen Morris (above) by kind permission

Christmas Dickens festival and others