Another weekend, another Wassail. This time we went to the Sussex village of Hurtpierpoint, where Jo spent the day teaching tunes to locals, before we all gathered for a procession and some wassailing of apple trees.
We ended up in a pub on the high street, in all our fairy lights and ivy finery, confusing the basic bitch 4X4-owning regulars who kept asking if it was our birthday and pointing out that it wasn’t Christmas any more. I gently explained Wassailing to one table, who kept insisting “we’re not taking the piss’, even though they probably were.
But when we retreated to a side room, and sang some of our repertoire, they all came through to film us on their camera phones.
jamesofwalsh 