BARUM FAIR

Evening Star, Issue 22228, 4 January 1936, Page 15

BARUM FAIR

When the September moon waxes full “up along” wild Exmoor, every villager asks his neighbour, “ Be you’m cornin’ t’ Fair?” In these parts, writes W. B. Jepson in the ‘ Empire Review,’ there is only one fair worth talking about, Barum Fair, one of the historical antiquities of the county. It is opened with a time-honoured toast, a link with absent friends. A thousand years ago Barnstaple, proud in the possession of a mint, was granted a charter. To those charter days the fair dates back, and all Devon folk are proud of the fair beca.use Barnstaple, claims to be the oldest borough in the kingdom. Every detail of the opening ceremony is prescribed by time-honoured tradition. From every tiny hamlet in North Devon, from mighty Exeter itself, thousands of visitors flock to the town, travelling in every variety of vehicle, from donkeychaise to Rolls-Royce. There are more reunions at Barum Fair than at Christmastide.

An invitation to the Guildhall opening ceremony is a coveted honour. Spiced ale, brewed by the beadle from a jealously-guarded recipe, is served in exquisite silver-gild steeple cups and silver tankards, dating from 1589. The mayor, having ladled out the brew from a massive silver punchbowl, crowns “ Harum Scarum, King of Barum,” who “ reigns in glory once a year.” The mayor and corporation next move in scarlet robes to different parts of the town; at each stopping-place a long-winded proclamation in archaic wording is read by the town clerk. A giant gloved hand on a pole, trimmed with flowers and ribbons, the “ Hand of Welcome,” is pushed from the topmost window of the Guildhall, there to remain for the duration of the Fair—throe days. “ Fairings in plenty and all for you,” as the old song ‘ Widdecombe Fair ’ has it, are despatched to absent friends abroad at two shillings a pound. “ Fairings ” consist of sticks of cinnamon-flavoured sugar, sugared almonds, and pink sheets of the cocoanut ice variety. During the week no sweets but fairings are bought, and the trade is so brisk that confectioners go to the length of advertising their fairings in the local Press. The business commences on the first day with sheep and bullocks: the next day is devoted to the horse fair; and the last to amusement pure and simple in the North Walk. Thousands of bullocks and sheep enter the town; in some years, after keen bargaining, 8,000 sheen change hands before nightfall. On behalf of the local hospital a live sheep is offered every day for

weight-guessing. You have to guess to the nearest ounce, t 00.., One day last year the sheep turned the scales at 1331 b 9oz. The old farmers, averse as a rule to every innovation, have to admit, that motor cars have their uses, so the horse fair is beginning to decline. Light vanners fetch £l6 to £2O, a few good farming horses reach £3O apiece, and “heavy draught horses make 40 guineas. People after* hunters no longer come to the fair, and pit ponies, at one time a feature, command hardly the sale nowadays they once did. But the harum scarum side of the fair flourishes in the North Walk as happily as ever, some £7OO from tolls going to the town’s finances. Just as a doctor reads symptoms in a man’s face, so you can label every type of Devon country life in the crowd at the North Walk. Tfee squire and “squarson,” the yeoman farmer and his brother Jack on leave, all are bent on enjoying the fun of the fair, and don’t mind paying for it. Petronell and Sibley, who rose at cock-crow, have come in best summer frocks and ribbons to spend the shillings they earned last week for whortleberries. An Exmoor lady of some 80 summers brings “ Jarge,” her “chiel,” to see the sights. Like an old hen with one chick, she watches over “ Jarge,” who must be not a day under 60! Among the show people is a wonderful personality, Mrs Amy Lock, who has attended Barum Fair those 70 years. Above the din of the organs, the ladies of tho fair, their golden earrings a-quiver, cry hoarsely. “ Yours is a lucky face,” tho next minute wheedling the coppers from the generous crowd. Tom Thumb and his wife rival real Zulu warriors and a marionette show, where a seat is most welcome. The Indian Ivadir of Wembley fame produces 12 live chicks from a single egg. The noble art of self-defence, with the promises of “ a devil of a row ” between challengers and the crowd, proves a magnet. Was it not at Barnstaple Fair that Joe Becket made some of his early appearances in the ring? An old shepherd, the exact counterpart of Churdlcs Ash, having sunk “tuppence” all at once without avail at the cocoanuts, comes away declaring “the darned things be gummed on!” Suddenly tho head and bodv of a hobby horse part company., An empurpled, perspiring housewife picks herself up from the ground with tho best dignity she can summon at the moment. Adjourning to tho sanded bar of the “ Coach and Horses.” we discuss the sins and sorrows of fanning, the prices of local cider, and fairs of other rears. At last it is “ Good-bye all ” till Barum Fair comes round once more.