Saturday 19th January 2019

Each year in the middle of January, friends on Flickr post pictures of a festival on The Fens, and each years I say I must remember to go next year.

Turns out, this was next year, and I did remember.

Although, due to the walking and standing I did this week through work, I wasn't sure if I should go, subjecting myself to over six hours either driving or being a passenger in the car. In the end Jools said, maybe we should just go and do something different?

And it was different.

The Straw Bear Festival is an ancient thing, but only revived in Whittlesea in 1980 after the police stopped it in the twenties, due to begging. There is an explanation and a link to Wiki on each picture, anyway. The upshot is, a man and a boy is dressed with thatch and paraded through the town. Behind the two straw "bears", sides of dancers celebrate the coming year by, er dancing, and music.

And then there is much drinking.

I would going to take pictures. Lots of pictures.

Whittlesea is about a three hour drive, up to Dartford, through the tunnel then up the M11 through Cambridge, past Ely and near to Peterborough. Although Whittlesea is an ancient market town, on the fens and steeped in centuries of farming history. As far from the city life of Peterborough or Cambridge.

We left Dover just after six, with the hope to put many miles on the clock before sunrise, getting to the town by about half nine, get to the centre of town ready to be snapping. Thanks to the event website, we had the post code for a college that did free parking, I just wasn't sure how many people might attend the event, either hundreds or tens of thousands.

At least the drive was wonderful, the weather was cold but under clear skies that are already getting lighter earlier. We got to the tunnel in an hour, through that and round to the M11, and traffic on that was light so we made the services west of Cambridge by half eight, so we stopped for lunch.

There was an American style diner called Al's, although I doubt if there was really an Al behind it. I order pancakes, bacon, eggs and a sausage patty, which was OK. Not enough syrup, but by then the single waitress was being rushed off her feet, so I left it. I thought it better I didn't eat all the pancakes, which was probably for the best.

I pay and we leave, reaching Whittlesea at twenty to ten, and able to find a parking space at the college, and a place on the free bus into the town centre. A helpful man in a bowler hat with a straw man on it explains the event and the route of the parade, so I find a position I am happy with and stand and wait half an hour before it all starts.

More and more people line the road that runs round the town's market square, myself and another snapper are on a small traffic island and we hope the parade will pass either side of us, and we being in the middle of it.

At half ten we could hear the sound of a drum marking out the sound of a march, and soon we could see the straw bear dancing his way up the street, followed by his handler, a child bear and then the parade, with each Morris side each with their own band,, the music all merging into one wonderful noise.

The bear passes cloes to us, as does the little bear, and indeed the parade passes either side of us, sometimes it stops so we are next to the band or close to being hit by dancers twirling round and round nearby.

In the end the parade grinds to a halt, as there is nowhere for it to parade to, so the sides force their way through the crowds to clear a space on the square and to begin dancing. More than a dozen sides began to dance. Most members had pewter tankards either attached to their belt or hanging round their necks on a chain, meaning many would soon be heading for the town's pubs and bars for refreshments.

We walk to the church, which was open, but crowded as it was playing hot to refreshments; sandwiches, soup as well as teas and coffees. I take a few shots, but I am happy with what I have, so we go back to the square. Having snapped the parade, and with a three hour drive back home ahead, and Jools wanting to go to a bead shop on the way, we walk back to the bus station and catch the bus back to the car, meaning we were back on the road by twenty past eleven.

The sat nav takes us across the fens, at first along long straight roads, heading to the horizon, then by a series of narrow twisty lanes, that fail to go in a straight line for no particular reason. All the while we were heading towards Ely, the cathedral we could see in dark silhouette on the horizon. Along the Forty Foot Dyke, me careful not drive into the black icy water on the other side of the road until we turned off and entered Haddenham.

I could have visited the church there, but it was cold and my back was grumbling. So while Julie went shopping in the bead shop, I parked up and looked on at the dreadful display of driving from the locals. Half an hour later, Jools was done so I program the sat nav for Chez Jelltex, and away we go, heading south to the A14 and then the motorway.

On the way home we listen to the football. Or I do, whilst driving. Jools reads, and then her eyes get heavy and she nods. Its an easy trip south, traffic OK, and we reach Dartford by two, and are home on the stroke of three for the football. Norwich bear Brum on Friday night, 3-1, and so all eyes on our rivals, and what a good weekend it turned out to be with both Leeds and Sheffield Utd both losing, meaning we stay in 2nd place.

After the footy, I make steak and ale pie for dinner, and for the rest of the evening, we played uckers, and I was triumphant, winning both games and eight piecing Jools both times.