Working lives
Last in the series
Also on this page:
Remembering Bessie
A Scottish artist rediscovered
Just three weeks ago the Open Championship ended and St Andrews’ citizens were able finally to reclaim their streets from the gents in tartan trews. But, no sooner has one circus rolled out, than another is setting out it stalls – Lammas Fair has arrived in the auld grey toun and brought with it the gents – and I use the word loosely – with tattoos.
A few years ago, when I first heard that the Lammas Fair still came to St Andrews, I thought it very exciting. Lammas – once a hiring fair and an occasion of religious (and pagan) observance – is the only relic of five great fairs held in medieval times, I read.
But the fair that has taken over the ancient streets is not even a distant nod to those far-off days. I wasn’t expecting to trip over demure milkmaids and bulging bicep-ed farmhands vying for a lowly position. Neither, however, did I anticipate a raft of rides called ‘Speed Buzz’, ‘Booster’, ‘2extreme’ and ‘Drop Zone’ to obscure the graceful ruins of the Blackfriars monastery.
There are al fresco bingo sessions and rival ‘genuine’ Romany fortune-tellers, with just a single stall – selling an incredibly unlikely combination of hi-vis jackets and floaty maxi dresses – between their caravans. One of the seers (‘granddaughter of Gypsy Rose Lee’ – I wonder how many she had?) boasts of foretelling not only the future – but also the past. Can you foresee the past? And is there really a market in it?
Culinary offerings include Polish placki and Bavarian bratwurst, with paella, crepes, and kangaroo and springbok burgers for good measure. Inevitably, though, hot dog’s, kebab’s and chip’s (sic) predominate.
In medieval times, Lammas was the festival of the wheat harvest – the first harvest festival of the year – when it was customary to bring to church a loaf made from the new crop. Pagans also celebrated Lughnasadh and the reaping of grain. In early 19th century Edinburgh, peat towers were built to mark the event and farmers would attempt to flatten each other’s constructions – a successful assault earning great praise.
Now the streets of St Andrews throb to a Robbie Williams compilation CD, while kids with nerves of steel are flung around in seemingly flimsy structures, high off the ground. I try to find one redeeming feature – and spot a Ferris wheel. Many years ago I was lifted aloft on the famous Riesenrad in Vienna’s Prater Park, all the while humming the Harry Lime theme from ‘The Third Man’. This one offers rotating cages, rather than charming cabins. I decline a ride.
David Harvie
Portrait of Cunninghame Graham by John Lavery
Is the legacy of his radical nature thought of as too much for us to handle? I suppose I am not seriously suggesting a conspiracy here, but perhaps there is an unconscious ‘editorial policy’ at work that has based itself on responses of habit.
