Showing posts with label shropshire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shropshire. Show all posts

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

The origins of old traditions, Goat murmuring, Charles 1st and a Large Cat.




We all wonder stuff, particularly when it is very very hot again today and our minds have melted slightly and are dripping out of our ears making our thoughts mushy as well as making passers by shout Oooo look YUCK.  So I thought to myself today, well to tell the truth I thought to myself about five minutes ago because I was thinking what will I write tonight.  Yes I thought where do all these strange old traditions come from that folk do, like the old Shropshire tradition of Goat Murmuring on the first Sunday of August where folk gather in the local tavern or hotel and murmur away to entice the local goats in. 

Lets face it, it is all very well with its strange rules and instant disqualification for using trails of peanuts, crisps or beer and everyone singing long into the night as they parade the goat proudly aloft if they have succeeded in the quest, in its gilded goat throne. But it is not the sort of thing you sit about thinking I bored today lets try Goat Murmuring. It takes years for such things to take hold and become a part of the local tradition, so that folk turn up from all over the world to take part.

Some say this particular tradition is from the days of Charles 1st, when he was being hunted down by the parliamentarians and he found himself cornered in Ye Olde Pig and Trolley Inn . . . . . (full English Breakfast available all day). They say that the sharp thinking inn keeper had an old goat skin behind the counter and dressed the King up as a goat.  The Curious but slightly stupid parliamentarians questioned the inn keeper who explained he was practicing his murmuring for the annual Goat murmuring competition. The King joining in by butting the parliamentarians and becoming docile and friendly when the inn keeper started to murmur.

That’s all well and good but traditions like that just can not get going these days, lets face it the old tradition of throwing grannies off the bus is not quite the same. Particularly as it happens every Friday night rather than once a year.

Ooooooo while I was away I saw a huge cat called Ben he was really huge, but rubbish at Cat murmuring and never caught a Dolphin.