Maypoles, Wassailing and Morris Dancers!

Happy Friday, Friends.

Well, here we are then, May has arrived, the long weekend is upon us, and if you listen carefully, you can almost hear the collective sigh of relief across the UK. It’s nearly time put your big coat away till late October, the evenings are a lot longer, and suddenly everything feels… possible again. There’s a reason for that, and it’s not just the prospect of a cheeky Monday off work.

May Day, rooted in ancient, proudly pagan traditions, is one of those moments in the calendar where humanity and nature are properly in sync. The simple, powerful acknowledgement that the earth is waking up and getting back to business. And frankly, it’s about time we paid attention.

Now, I’ve always had a soft spot for the traditions that come with this time of year. You’ve got your maypoles, bright ribbons, slightly questionable coordination, and a load of enthusiasm. But underneath the cheerful chaos is something quite profound and it’s a celebration of fertility, growth, and the connection to everything around us. It’s community. It’s nature. It’s people remembering and celebrating that we’re part of something bigger.

And then, my personal favourite, the glorious spectacle of Morris dancing. Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Bells? Handkerchiefs? Sticks? But give it a go. There’s something brilliantly British about it. It’s joyful, slightly eccentric, and, if we’re being honest, alway best appreciated after a pint or 7.

But here’s the thing, Morris dancing wasn’t dreamed up on a whim. It was meant to do something. These dances were performed to drive away winter, to wake up the land, to encourage the crops to grow. Imagine that, people dancing in fields not for TikTok or Instagram, but because they genuinely believed it would help the harvest. That’s a kind of optimism in that which I think we should all buy into.

And speaking of optimism, let’s talk about wassailing. Now we’re really getting into the spirit of things. Traditionally done in orchards, wassailing is all about blessing the trees, singing to them (yes, really), and crucially sharing a fair bit of cider in the process. Some versions even involve pouring cider onto the roots of the trees, which I like to think of as the original “circular economy.”

It’s brilliant, isn’t it? A tradition where agriculture, community, and a good drink all come together. You can see why it’s survived.

But beyond the laughter and the lifted glasses, there’s a deeper message running through all of this. These traditions, pagan roots and all, were built on with an  understanding of harmony with nature. Not control.

We should have all really learnt by now, you can’t control nature. I’ve learnt that the painful way in the last couple of weeks, trying to control an exploding bee colony hasn’t worked out well and the girls have let me know who’s in charge. Infact, I’ve had that many stings now my cerebral fluid is probably 75% bee venom. On the flip side, my hay-fever will be cured and have the testosterone levels of Spanish bull if the internet and old wives tales are to be believed.

We can try, but you can’t really control nature.

The trick has always been to work with it. Harmony. Our ancestors recognised this, their survival depended on working with the land, respecting its cycles, and giving back as much as they took.

Fast forward to today, and while we might not all be out dancing around maypoles (though I wouldn’t discourage it), the principle still stands. In fact, it’s more important  than ever.

In the energy world, we’re having some very serious conversations about sustainability, decarbonisation, and how we power the future. And rightly so. But cut away at the jargon, and what we’re really trying to do is rediscover that balance. The harmony.

Biofuels, when approached properly, are part of that story. They’re about making use of what already exists, waste streams, and turning them into something valuable. It’s not a million miles away from those older traditions, is it? Nothing wasted, everything part of a cycle, and a clear understanding that if you look after the system, it’ll look after you.

I sometimes think the folks who were out wassailing orchards had a better instinct for sustainability than we give them credit for. They understood that you couldn’t just take and take, you had to nurture, protect, and yes, occasionally raise a glass to the process.

So as we head into this May bank holiday weekend, I’d encourage you to lean into it a bit. Get outside if you can. Notice the way everything’s coming back to life, the trees filling out, the fields greening up, the sheer energy and joy of it all. It’s quite something when you stop and take it in.

And if you happen to stumble across a group of Morris dancers, don’t rush past. Stay a while. Enjoy it. And if there’s a bit of cider going as part of a modern-day wassail, well… it would be rude not to, wouldn’t it?

So here’s to Bank Holiday weekend. To growth, to renewal, to a bit of tradition, and, of course, to the occasional pint in the name of agricultural prosperity.

 Until next time, thanks for reading, have a beautiful Bank Holiday weekend.

Mike.

Subscribe