In the mid-ish 90s I read a horror novel about a female Vicar who moves into a haunted vicarage with her teenage daughter.I think it was set in or near Glastonbury as I recall the girl visiting 'New Age' white witchcraft shops in the town. Descriptions of Wassailing in the orchard were also a theme as were mentions of a Cowper/Powys which may've been the historical figure.The novels length was around 450-750 pages I think and the author was possibly female.Lastly it may've had Glastonbury in the title...
When and where was it ever a significant tradition to wassail? It seems like such an obscure term yet has made it into the top of the Christmas charts. How did that happen?
Inspired by the recent post about the dearth of mall Santas and the ensuing thread about the encroachment of Christmas on other months (see: <https://reddit.com/r/neoliberal/comments/r5txtz/we_are_winning_my_friends_our_war_on_christmas/hmpgqbe>), I’ve decided to create an homage to a hypothetical omnipresent Christmas that, far from being annoying, would make every day in our lives a veritable based and evidence-pilled utopia.
On the first month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
a taco with bulgogi.
On the second month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the third month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the fourth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the fifth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the sixth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
six lines of light rail,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the seventh month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
seven Georgist taxes,
six lines of light rail,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the eighth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
eight districts flipping,
seven Georgist taxes,
six lines of light rail,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the ninth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
nine free trade treaties,
eight districts flipping,
seven Georgist taxes,
six lines of light rail,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the tenth month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
ten Nazbols crying,
nine free trade treaties,
eight districts flipping,
seven Georgist taxes,
six lines of light rail,
fiiiiive pounds of spice,
four skeeter nets,
three big tents,
two Khama flairs,
and a taco with bulgogi.
On the eleventh month of Christmas my Dune worm gave to me,
eleven trans folks vibi
... keep reading on reddit ➡“Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green . . .”
The cheery voices drift from your front porch. The melody is beautiful and well-performed. It would be a treat to listen to . . .
“Here we come a-wandering so fair to be seen . . .”
. . . if you hadn’t heard it a hundred times. Literally. Just this one song.
“Love and joy come to you! And to you your wassail, too!”
It’s been three days. Three days of scarfed and mittened carolers at your front door. How are they not exhausted? Has anyone eaten anything?
“And God bless you and send you a happy New Year . . .”
They’re so loud. They drown out everything. You can barely hear yourself think. You tried to watch TV, but you couldn’t hear the actors. You put in your noise-canceling earbuds and sighed with relief as Ryan Reynold’s voice filled your ears . . .
. . . only for him to sing, his voice joined by a familiar chorus.
“And God send you a happy New Year!”
You tried earplugs. You tried white noise machines. You tried opening the door and screaming at them to stop.
Nothing worked.
“Our wassail cup is made of the rosemary tree . . .”
You called the police. The operator started singing. You texted your friends, your family, your crazy ex-girlfriend you vowed to never speak to again. All their responses were lyrics, matching the voices rising outside.
“And so is your beer of the best barley!”
You’ve thought of gouging your eardrums out. You’ve thought of slitting your wrists. And yet, when you go to do it, you can’t. The music worms its way into your ears, cheerful and bright.
“Love and joy come to you! And to you your wassail, too!”
It just wants to make you happy. And it does, doesn’t it? Why are you fighting happiness?
“And God bless you and send you a happy New Year!”
You grab your coat. It’s chilly out, and your hands are already going numb, but one of the carolers offers you a pair of mittens. You grin at them, your mouth opening to say thank you. But that’s not what comes out.
“And God send you a happy New Year!”
I watched a recording of the stage Musical the Wind in the Willows this week, and there is a really nice Christmas-y song in there called "The Wassailing Mice"! If you're looking for something new to add to your Christmas playlist, check it out!
Just been to a wassail. They're kind of mental but absolutely brilliant.
You sneak out into an orchard carrying pots and pans and flaming torches, assemble round a tree to 'frighten' it by making as much noise as possible while someone fires a gun into the air. There's singing, a 'wassail queen' who puts toast into the tree to thank the birds for eating bugs and looking after the apples. A good glug of cider is poured on the tree to thank the tree. There's also Morris dancing.
10/10 would wassail again.
🎶 We're not your daily shitposters who go from sub to sub, but we're your friendly OTters whom you have seen before! 🎶
Afternoon all,
Hope you all are having a bearable Monday in grey and gloomy Devon.
The wassailing event I was supposed to go this year got cancelled. Can anyone recommend any other good ones?
Cheers en
Wassail - a game of hot drinks, ancient trees and rituals.
I have released Wassail, a game that asks players to walk into a forest at night, bless the oldest tree and perform a ritual that will reveal the forests inner most secrets to them.
https://jameschip.itch.io/wassail
It requires a deck of Lenormand cards, a flask of hot wassail and 2-6 players.
Available as both an epub and pdf on itch any sales will go towards getting illustrations done for both the digital versions and a print version in the future.
It has been 12 weeks and the halloumi fries are fully grown! I would like to issue a huge thanks to those of you who took time out from your busy schedules to help sow them, and would furthermore like to invite everyone to the wassailing ceremony on Friday when it will be be all hands on deck (community spirit what-what!) to dig up and place into the giant freezer bags for storage through next year as usual.
As per the recent noticeboard announcement, there will be a limited number of spaces in the marquee this year for the athlete's foot competition judging, so be sure to reserve your space if you are at all interested, as I expect they'll go quickly. It's first-come-first-served. Following the tragic accident last week I'm also still looking for two more judges so please get in touch if you can help with that.
See you all at the wassailing ceremony on Friday at the manor farm - Don't forget your watermelon hats! Tally ho!
