Winning Essay: MAYDAY 1661

I awoke to the raucous crowing of e dawn-announcing farmyard >cks. I pushed open the attic, it lietly sighed. I saw the life-giving in steadily shorten the shadows and y up the dew-sodden grass. It was e first proper sunrise I’d felt for onths. Today the sun really had ;at. It was the first of May, 1661.

Mayday 1661; I shook my me ory, we had a king on the throne, was so used to the dull Puritan iled years behind with no celebra- Dns at all. Yes the sun really had ;at.

I was born in 1646 while the oyalists and Roundheads slaugh red themselves over England. When was just three when our good king harles was beheaded, our family as stunned and enraged, we swore :ver to help a Roundhead again. I member Roundheads marching on iad beyond our farm, ugly, cruel,

war lovers, their bullying eyes glinting the punishment for hiding a Royalist, I hate them. Yet now they were gone and life was merry and this was to be the first and probably, I hope, the merriest Mayday in my life. My thoughts were broken off by a shrill shout from the kitchen.

“Philip, Simon, breakfast!”

We clambered into our trousers and clean jerkins. Our trousers were gathered at the knee and we put socks on and then ill-fitting shoes.

We stormed down to the room below and said good morning. Our father sat quietly in a chair not far from the table. He was a kind, good humoured man and an excellent farmer. He was dressed in similarstyled clothing and wore a big widebrimmed Cavalier hat. One of his ears was missing. It had been cut off by one of the cruel Roundhead soldiers when they searched the farm,

just a few years ago.

Mother stood in the corner stirring a large pot of porridge. She was dressed in a red dress spun by her own hand and wore a little head cap.

She spun the clothes for us and cooked for us and sometimes helped in harvest time.

We sat down and ate the steaming porridge avidly. Father had long since said grace and he too was eat ing. Breakfast was silent except for the gay bird songs that riddled this Mayday. Father rose as we all finished and we read from the Bible and said prayers. Father went to feed the animals and we followed, Mother stayed inside preparing to day’s food and doing the housework, It was a warm morning and the farm was in full life. We collected the hens’ eggs and milked our cow and fed the mud-wallowing, food loving pigs who guzzled down their

food in no time. Soon we were ready to go.

We left the house taking a little basket of food. Father gave us a shilling each and we thanked him, overjoyed. A shilling was worth a lot to us. So we plodded the country mud road. We scaled a Norfolk hil lock and saw below us the buzzing, excited town of Norwich. Our pace quickened as we hurried down to Norwich. Shortly we arrived. Nor wich was agog with excitement, everybody had seemed to have thought the same things this morning.

First I went to the celebrated may pole.

The maypole looked like a barber’s pole, but it was many-coloured. It stood, a symbol of the new rule and happiness. We all danced round for real joy. I learnt gay Mayday songs that people had remembered despite the pleasure-killing Puritan rule.

It was late morning after our joy ful dance round the maypole. Every thing, everybody was lively. They wore their brightest and best clothes and created a terrific noise.

Next I saw a bear-baiting contest.

I saw a rather miserable, sullen bear standing chained, ironed to a rock strength pole. The owner set five vicious brute dogs who were to chew the bear up. The contest began. The

dogs gnawed at the bear. Soon one dog was dead, its brains had been dashed out by the powerful club of the bear. The other four bit, dancing from the annoyed bear. Then an other went. Then rather tattered the dogs withdrew and the bloodstained bear stood, the victor at high costs.

I saw several fights each as terrifying as the other. I am not squeamish but somehow it seemed that this was not the right kind of entertainment for me.

After our lunch of apples, bread and milk we went to see a cockfight.

This was not as bad as the bear baiting. It seemed more worthwhile.

First the bets were placed. Keen betters shouted their towering amounts on their favoured cock. The cocks were a bold sight, prepared to fight to the death. All seemed well then suddenly something made me shake and feel rather sick—rusty razor-sharp blades had been tied to the cocks ankles. Thank goodness they were not to use them. Anyway the fight began. Angry clucking arose over the din of the betters and the cocks started what seemed delicately plucking each other in short decisive thrusts. One cock was soon a bloody mess, his wings were stained red.

Luckily I placed my penny on the would-be victor. Then suddenly the

suffering blood-ridden cock fell. The victor danced his last, make-surej vicious thrusts and grumbles and delighted shrieks arose from the crowd as the cock strutted around the dying defeated. I claimed my penny and went off to see the Mayday pro cession.

First two brightly coloured jug glers came dancing and juggling down the street. Then the Mayking came, riding on a pretend horse and dressed in royal gay clothes he walked on followed by jesters, merry-makers, singers and other lively people. Everybody enjoyed it— the poor, humble folk to the mag nificently dressed cavalier gentlemen.

We all clapped, shouted and sang as the light hearted always fun pro cession rolled on to dusk in west.

As the procession ended we left Mayday-celebrating Norwich and walked silently home in our own thoughts, I thought of the bear, so miserable on such a happy day. The vicious annoying dog, his brains spilled everywhere. I remembered the cocks pecking to death and then the grand Mayday procession. It seemed so new to me. Yes, the Cromwellian dictatorship of cruelty was over. No I shall never forget this Mayday, never, never never.