I have just returned from nearly two weeks in the North West, my second of three big sabbatical trips, this time to look at traditions and especially doing some thinking about working class communities in the north and how people came together for work but also for fun, light relief from really difficult working conditions in hindsight. I was based in Blackpool, in Mossley and in Saddleworth.
When I served in Mossley, once a year they would go on about "wakes" - the town would have an enormous fun fair on the market ground which made church reverberate the noise outside was so loud! One church in the town shut down because it was "wakes" even though none of them were away. "Wakes week" was the week in the year where mill workers left their work and went, en masse to one of the northern seaside towns for a week of much needed light relief. I never realised until I read a book I got from Amazon for 10p about wakes holidays that whole towns went, leaving behind somewhat of a ghost town. I love this extract which some folk who follow me on Facebook will have already seen:
"Albert Deeley of Blackburn knew that his local vicar was going off for the wakes along with most of the rest of his flock in that vintage post war summer of 1947 - but he was still shocked to see the gentleman of the cloth walking towards him along the front, not only in a mauve shirt but minus his dog collar no less. "I could never take the man seriously after that," says Albert. "I can't begin to describe what a let down it was, almost like discovering there was no Father Christmas."
Blackpool, as Stanley Holloway put it "renowned for fresh air and fun" was invaded by people and you couldn't move for people. Most would stay in very basic guest houses, often run by tyrannical landladies. Use of the cruet was charged on your bill at the end of the week! Seriously! In a lovely book called "Growin' Up in Lancashire" there is a bit I love about more wealthy visitors who stayed in the Imperial Hotel. I laughed out loud when I read this knowing that next month a Methodist Superintendents Conference meets there: "My Gran would say of its residents, "They're so posh that lot, they get out of the bath to wee."!!!!
I didn't though really realise the importance of the Wakes Week for people until I visited a textile mill museum in Burnley last week. I had ladies in my congregations in the Ashton Circuit who were very deaf, life long friends who had worked in a mill together. When you did funerals, you discovered they had job descriptions I had to ask what they meant. I also knew about lip reading to have conversations over the factory noise, thanks to the immortal Cissie and Ada creations of Les Dawson, if you remember them. Queen Street mill closed in 1982 but is now open as a working heritage centre. A group of us had a very informative day learning about mill life, seeing bits of machinery working and the end products of different cloth, which was exported all over the world. Remember Manchester at its height was known as "Cottonopolis."
We went into the part of the mill where the looms were - there was a sign saying really no more than five minutes in there with the noise of 3000 looms was sensible. I came out with my ears ringing, feeling quite disorientated. I had a conversation with the man showing us round about my deaf ladies. He said "now treble the noise in your mind." At its capacity this space had 9000 looms working - imagine the noise. You could hear it miles away. Imagine working in that for long hours every day, with machinery that was dangerous. No wonder a week in Blackpool was your highlight of the year. When I lived in Mossley they used to tell me about the knocker upper. I used to sometimes think stories were them winding me up. But no - days started early for these people. A man with a pole came to knock on your window giving you minutes to get out of bed and get to work. A Victorian alarm clock!
While I was in Blackpool, I spent time looking for ways community was created by this light relief and fun. I've always loved Blackpool, I am one of those sad people who get excited by playing that "first sight of the Tower" game on the journey there. It is full of life and vitality even though now it has major social problems, and at weekends of course is home to all of life in its diversity awash with alcohol and enjoying hen and stag dos. I still have nightmares over the man dressed as a penis who wanted a selfie with me by the North Pier the other Friday night! This other side is there being ministered to by the folk at North Shore Methodist through their Comfort Zone work, providing space and support for an increasingly high number of homeless folk, often high on drug and alcohol abuse. Indeed on Pentecost Sunday, while we were enjoying worship in the church led by a silver band, stewards at the back weren't in the service as someone contemplating suicide was in the foyer needing some help.
The Tower Ballroom is one of my favourite places - people clearly go in there every day to dance, or to listen to the organ. From the balcony I watched people who just were there enjoying a little piece of heaven on earth. The Tower Circus is another must for me every year. Again escapism for a bit from your problems and from the world, Mooky the clown is a genius, although he makes you sweat when he comes round picking on people to help him, and he got very close to me this time. He kept saying "it's all about having a laugh, it's all about having a laugh." I laughed until my sides split. In my growing up in Lancashire book it mentions the old beauty contests on the North Pier. I love this bit, not at all PC for 2016 but there you go:
"Number 25 should have stopped at home," said my Gran. Old ladies can never whisper and this comment was quite audible even to number 25 herself."!!!! Guess the old dear worked in a mill. I found as the minister to former mill girls they always spoke very loudly, even to each other in church. I had to once have a word that I didn't wish to hear what the price of cheese was in the Co-op during the communion!!!
The other part of my trip to explore traditions and community was to do Whit Friday again after 14 years away. Like Wakes I had never heard of Whit Friday until I lived in Lancashire. Whit Friday in now just a small part of Lancashire, is the most important day of the year. The next one is planned the day after this one, and this one in great detail is talked about and analysed for days after it. Whit Friday falls into two bits. In the morning you "walk" -"what you do mean, walk?" said I on arriving in Mossley. I was very glad my predecessor, Jackie, suggested I might come and see a Whit Friday walk before I took over as minister and found myself at the front of my church procession, a banner and a brass band. Each church walks to remind folk of the church being alive at Pentecost, each has a banner which comes out despite the weather and not the easiest thing to carry, and each church has a band, hired for the day. The band the Methodist Church use are mostly young people. They have only been doing it for a few years. Apparently the first year they had never marched in time, and could only play the theme from Wallace and Gromit!!
It was still an amazing experience to walk down the streets with people lining them to watch. People still have new clothes every year for this (I had a new jacket!!) and the stories about it are amazing. One lady had special Whit Friday teeth! I did though as I walked try to reflect what it is all about for these people. Is it about the church being alive anymore? The music the bands play is not especially religious!! Unless "Hello hello, who's your lady friend?" that the Unitarian band behind us were blasting out is in a hymn book. At least this time there was no Colonel Bogey! Is it about holding on to a social event embedded in a tradtion we enjoy and that binds us together? There are people who walk who have nothing to do with any church. Indeed, within the churches, the procession used to be commented on if folk turned up to walk who hadn't been to church for ages. Whatever, it is clear this event holds community together, a shared experience, I guess looked forward to rather like wakes. It was good to see children being part of it - there was a fabulous plastic brass band of little children and I love this picture of the children being encouraged to clap as the walk passed by.
We returned to church for the usual sticky buns with iced lemon on them - a tradition no one can explain to me, but I guess you have your Whit Friday bun as well as your Whit Friday teeth or your new Whit Friday dress. I sat and chatted with folk who wanted to talk about walks past. A fascinating morning. I sat with a group I was the minister of in Millbrook, long since shut. For them keeping the event going, and holding on to it for dear life, was important.
The other part of Whit Friday is the annual band contest, where brass bands travel from village to village and play competition pieces and aim to win as many contests as they can, adjudicated by some people who sit in a little caravan! This is serious business and takes place no matter what the weather. I did the evening with friends at Greenfield in Saddleworth. The contest in Saddleworth is still very strong. The village was heaving with people, of all ages, enjoying themselves, another communal event. Then the heavens opened! The bands played on. I escaped to the Methodist Church in the village for pie and peas and then to the beer tent where I dripped - I had to have a pint of beer to stay dry!! Much alcohol was being consumed, because it was Whit Friday, and again I did wonder what that was about. Is an event like this as important in people's psyche to look forward to as important as say Christmas or birthdays? Do we need emotionally and spiritually to have things that are lighter and make our soul sing to look forward to make life do-able? Like Wakes, is having special times, meeting special people on a special day, having a calendar and counting down the days, important for us to get through? Certainly on the station platform on Monday morning people were still talking about it "did you walk?" "which band won?" etc etc and I know arrangements for 2017 are well in hand! Much to ponder...
What has this second bit of study about community taught me? That traditions are important, that they bind community together, even if we sometimes don't ask what they are about! That maybe in life groups of people need lightness and less pressure to look forward to. The mills were tough, but you formed life long friendships in them and you got on with it, and when the holiday week came, you loved it. And perhaps it is just about appreciating those moments with lovely people who come into your life and saying to yourself "maybe today I just need to have fun." Is there a theology of fun? If not, I am doing things wrong.
I loved returning to my first beloved congregation in Mossley to lead worship on Sunday. I came away remembering how good it is to just laugh together. I am convinced even though life is hard and sometimes you just need to cry, to find those people who make you smile is so important. So I end these thoughts with a belter from another book I bought (in the museum: "Tackler's Tales: a humorous look at Lancashire." I was on Hebden Bridge station reading this and burst out laughing out loud. Hebden Bridge is very posh! Enjoy - and regular readers see you next time: thoughts following worship in Harpenden!!
" So I came to Oldham, pouring rain, knocked on this door.
Landlady said "Yes?"
I said, "Can I stay here for t'week?"
"Aye," she says, "you can, but you'll get dam'd wet."
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