We make our own entertainment here, you know - part II

"'Oss 'oss, wee 'oss!" Such is the cry to be heard reverberating around the streets of Padstow on May Day each year. No, it's not an announcement of that day's additions to the menu at Rick Stein's place but a central part of the historic May Day celebrations in the town. Mrs Marshside had always wanted to witness this spectacle so we wrapped in a visit to Padstow with one to the in-laws and put on our best Cornish accents.

The Padstow 'obby 'oss (Hobby Horse in proper English) is another of these mysterious and ancient rituals that dot the kingdom. What happens is that the 'oss emerges from his "stables" at one of the pubs and kind of dances up the streets, followed by a crowd of blokes playing accordions and drums. In front of the 'oss, dances a "teaser", waving a small shield and trying to inspire/annoy/seduce (it's not at all clear which) the 'oss. The 'oss itself  consists of a chap wearing a horse head mask and a large black circular disk around himself from which hangs a kind of heavy black skirt. The thing must weigh a ton and not surprisingly, the 'oss man (it's always a man) changes very frequently. The teaser (usually a girl) changes rather less so.   

Just to complicate matters further, there's actually two 'osses. The newer one appeared around 1919 courtesy of the temperance movement who were concerned that the whole thing had become just an excuse for an enormous piss-up. This 'oss has blue colours and the older one has red. The locals all dress in white, accessorised with sashes and the like in the colours of the 'oss they follow. I was hoping that this would climax in some huge punch-up between the two groups (have you seen the film "Colours" about the LA gang wars?) but disappointingly this doesn't happen, there being little in the way of rivalry between the two factions; there's no 'oss wars in Padstow.

Of course the temperance people were right: the event is an enormous piss-up. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there's a large number of pubs in Padstow, which is necessary to fuel the large numbers of people there. Well at least there's large numbers on May Day; I can't imagine how that many pubs survive the rest of the year but perhaps they make enough money on May 1st to take most the year off. The place is so busy that all the pubs remove all their furniture for the day, so it feels like you're drinking in a village hall or something.

In recent years, Padstow has of course become more famous for celebrity chef Rick Stein than for the 'oss. There's probably no truth in the rumour that the 'obby 'oss ritual is not ancient at all but was conceived by Rick as a way of attracting punters to his various establishments. And my what establishments he has: the main restaurant; the cafe; the patisserie; the shop; the fish and chip shop; the fishmongers and the cookery school, which was advertising an evening of cookery demonstrations by the man himself at a bargain £85 a head. We were going to go for cod and chips from Rick's chippy but by the time we got there it had closed for the day and in fact most of his other places were closed all day. Rick himself was nowhere to be seen - gone fishing perhaps.

So I can't give you a recommendation to eat at Rick's but I can recommend checking out the 'oss business, although perhaps only once: the accordionists play the same tune all the time and after a while you either get into a kind of trance-like state (think Wicker Man) or make an exit, swearing you will kill the next person to start playing that bloody tune. But the locals love it. Round our way, this kind of thing, whether it be the Mummers, the Hoodeners or the Morris men, is greeted with a rather weary scepticism and people will actually go out of their way to avoid them. But in Padstow the locals, bless 'em, go mad for it and even babes in arms are suitably attired and adorned with their colours. 

So with a cry of "'oss 'oss, wee 'oss!" we salute the people of Padstow and long may the 'osses live to be teased another day. Like all May Day traditions, this one clearly has something to do with fertility which seems paradoxical given the effect of drinking all that beer and cider but no matter, the birth rate in the area seems healthy enough.

I leave you with a bit of homework. Just see if you can make sense of the chorus of the Padstow May Song, so incessantly played by the 'oss followers of old Padstow town:

O! where is St George,

O where is he O?

He is out in his long-boat all on the salt sea O.

Up flies the kite and down falls the lark O,

Aunt Ursula Birdhood she had an old ewe

And she died in her own Park O.

Catchy, eh?