Myth and Folkery: a tale of two wassails

I’ve always been into folklore. You can probably blame The Box of Delights for that. Or The Chronicles of Narnia. Or Penelope Lively. Or Doctor Who (primarily the 1983 K9 and Company annual — one of the sacred texts of my childhood!)

It’s featured in my writing over the years, fuelled my obsession with The Wicker Man and resulted in a deep-rooted love of megaliths (especially the Rollright Stones on the Oxfordshire / Warwickshire border.) It also led to my 50th birthday present to myself, a Green Man tattoo—the brilliant work of Paul Newman at Inked Up Bristol.

But even though it's always been there, the last couple of years have seen my fascination deepen, moving beyond a love of green places and the dark delights of folk horror. It's grown into a deeper appreciation of folk music and an exploration of the Wiccan Wheel of the Year. What was once a passing interest is fast becoming a fully-fledged hobby, offering much-needed respite in an increasingly fretful world.

So, I’ve made a promise to myself to continue my exploration of all things folky in 2025 and, where possible, blog about them here under the tab Myth and Folkery.

Yes, blog. How achingly 1990s! But harking back to simpler times — in this case, before the steaming pile of doo-doo that is social media — seems appropriate. If you’re reading this, welcome (and thank you!) Not all blog posts will be as long as this one, but I hope they will be fun!

And if you already subscribe to my newsletter, I’ll link back to them so you won’t miss any, as well as posting links on Bluesky (unless it goes the way of the other networks and self-destructs in a fit of rampant enshittification. I hope it won't, but you know… the internet!)

How then did I start my folking 2025? By attending two wassails, one traditional and once decidedly… not!

Wæs the hæil are you talking about?

The word wassail comes from the Middle English wæs hæil meaning ‘be in good health!’, which itself came from the Old Norse ves heill. If someone greeted you with a hearty wæs hæil you replied with an equally cheery drinkhail or ‘drink good health.’

There are two main forms of wassailing. The first is the door-to-door wassail which usually happens on 6th January—known to its friends as Twelfth Night—and immortalised in the Christmas carol, Here We Go A-Wassailing. Singing Wassailers troop from one house to the next, rapping on doors and offering anyone who answers the call a slug of the hard stuff from their special wassail bowl in exchange for gifts and hospitality. Over the years the door wassail has morphed into modern carolling and even trick or treat, both performed with significantly less alcohol.

The other tradition is the West Country orchard wassail, an ancient ritual that marked the end of the cider season. Usually held around January 17th—the original Twelfth Night in the old Julian calendar—the orchard wassail had all but died out until they were revived in the 1990s. Now, they’re a popular fixture in West Country orchards and why I bundled my family into the car on a cold Friday evening and headed for the outskirts of Bristol.

Hedges Cider House Wassail

Hedges Cider House is hidden away just off the A38, not far from Bristol Airport. Cosy and rustic, the cider house started life as a retirement project for former carpenter and stonemason Tom Vowles. Built from scratch on Tom’s family farm, it’s now the home of Hedges Cider, as well as a music venue and a bustling kitchen, run by Tom’s wife Jo, producing mouthwatering seasonal fare all year round!

January 10th marked their Hedges’ first wassail with Tom and Jo taking the roles of Orchard King and Queen. On arrival, we gathered around the Cider House, warming our hands on steaming cups of mulled cider as fire pits crackled in the dark. Then, with a rousing cry of ‘Wassail’, the King and Queen led us along an avenue of flaming torches towards their oldest tree, where, according to the legend, the guardian spirit or ‘Apple Tree Man’ of every orchard resides.

A cup of the previous year’s last batch of cider was poured over the tree’s roots and King Tom asked for a blessing for the coming year’s harvest, using a traditional verse that can be traced back to 1791:

Here's to thee, old apple tree,
Here’s to thee, old apple tree,
Whence thou mayst bud
And whence thou mayst blow!
And whence thou mayst bear apples enow!
Hats full! Caps full! Bushel--bushel--sacks full,
And my pockets full, too!
WASSAIL!

Then, things got noisy. Very noisy. As tradition dictates, a shotgun was fired in the air to scare off any evil spirits who might be lurking in the branches. In case that didn’t work, we all banged saucepans, whooped and hollered while a Land Rover drove through the trees, blowing its horn. Bang! Whoop! Beep! Wassail! It was a wall of sound that sent my noise-averse youngest scampering for the cider house where she watched Tom’s spectacular firework display from the comfort of a bench.

After helping ourselves to Jo’s delicious wassail cake, we rejoined Connie at the Cider House for hot dogs, pizza and, yes, more cider.

I hope the Apple Tree Man approved!

The Bristol Urban Wassail

But the revels were far from over. A week later, I attended my second wassail of the season, this time with my pal George Mann. And, best of all, there was no need to drive out to the middle of nowhere to toast the apple tree as this scrumpy-inspired shindig was happening in the heart of Bristol itself!

The Bristol Urban Wassail takes place in The Exchange, an independent music venue in Old Market just next to the Stag and Hounds pub. According to organiser Kev—also known as Tatty Smart, frontman of Scrumpy and Western band, the Skimmity Hitchers—it’s a chance to pay homage to: “the city’s abandoned orchards, gnarly park trees and super-strength cider drinkers!”

The evening kicked off with folkpunker DD strumming a mean banjo as he ripped through a set that included everything from a cover of Blondie’s Call Me to the ooh-arr-tastic I Woke Up in the Mornin’, I Were Drunk (both available on YouTube. Click the links to see if you can spot/hear me in the crowd!)

Between sets, DJ Buttercup Joe dropped the fermented beats — complete with tweed jacket and flat cap — before The Mighty Shinkickers took to the stage complete with electric mandolin and South Wales’ answer to Bez on maracas and a variety of increasingly bizarre costumes. Who knew the evening would include a man in a child’s velociraptor mask with faulty LED lights as eyes? Not us, but we wouldn’t have had it any other way

The evening ended with a blistering set of cider-inspired covers by Tatty’s own band, the Skimmity Hitchers. But before they took to the stage with such classics as I’m a Cidermaker, Proper Cidermaker to the tune of the Prodigy's Firestarter and ‘Magners’ to the tune of Madness, we were treated to a modern take on a traditional mystery play, performed by members of the audience. We booed and cheered our way through the tale of poor Fanny Haddock and her missing moggy, meeting Father Christmas, the Broadmead Witch and, would you believe it, the Apple Tree Man! Okay, so this Apple Tree Man was a guy in a hat festooned with carrots, but we danced around the root-wearing reveller with gusto, singing along with the Shinkickers as they led a rousing rendition of The Gloucestershire Wassail.

Those carrots served a purpose, though. Traditionally, cider-soaked toast is hung from the branches of orchard trees to attract robins who feast on pests that might hinder the new harvest. I didn’t see any redbreasts at the Urban Wassail, but that didn’t stop us from spearing pieces of bread onto the Apple Man’s carrots! Anything to help the next batch of cider!

January was the longest month, seemingly containing at least 500 days, but my two wassailing adventures were definitely light in the darkness. Music, dancing, cheers and, of course, cider! I’ve already started to scour orchard listings for events next year!

Did you take part in a wassail this year? Have you any wassailing memories from the past? Then please share them in the comments — or maybe just wish each other good health! I think we could all do with a spot of good cheer these days!