I've just been given a copy of 'Mummers, Maypoles and Milkmaids' by a friend, who knew I like history, English culture and documentary photography.
While the documentary tradition is a natural genre for Merrie England, photographers have often approached the landscapes of the traditional event as over-romanticised, minus the incongruous incidentals cropped out to sell us a product of tourist-led Morris Men - all that a modern Britain has shunned. The ignorant auslander perceiving them nowadays as bearded fruitcakes.
I've seen various other books and articles on this subject, the most obvious is the photography that Tony Ray-Jones undertook in the 70s as part of his English series. Although structurally brilliant, his pictures often treated his subjects as part of a laughable circus, rather than an important record of our heritage.
But here in 'Mummers .. ' we see a photographer in tune with a nation desperately hanging on to its ancient roots through a healthy revivalist calendar. Before industrialised agriculture, we were connected to the land for survival in ways we can barely nowadays comprehend and Sara Hannant shows us how the locals of England's rural backwaters, the lovers of nostalgia, still indulge their sense of our precious pagan past.
A lorry laden with local straw charges through Sowerby Bridge where by chance, the Rush-bearing festival is in full flow. On the days of yore, these people would have brought in their own harvest and then found time for their community carnival until the advent of stone instead of the rush mat floor. How many other such practices are now lost forever?
I love the Mayor of Ock Street as he passes the local chippy in Abingdon, its fish avatar perfectly spaced between the dignitaries; or the druid-like cult of the digital camera, seemingly proffered to an unknown sky deity amid the sarcens at Stonehenge.
My favourites however are the Hunting of the Earl of Rone where the community of Combe Martin turns out to forget its economic woes: ".. the evolution of a pre-Christian scapegoat ritual," followed by the fantastic burning of the David Cameron effigy, the blaming and subsequent exorcising of a latter-day bogyman.
Thankfully there is someone dedicated and undeterred like Hannant who can take herself across our counties to find and record these lores and communal customs. As an outside, she is nonetheless among kindred spirits.
This book of reportage is important and well worth the price. But one word of complaint: I do wish publishers wouldn't wrap books about the 'countryside' in green gloss.