Montol in Penzance 2022
On the eve of the winter solstice hundreds of people are out on the streets of Penzance, many wearing masks and elaborate headdresses, some with coats of coloured tatters. There are a number of processions with music and dance and flaming torches.The band has drums and violins and a trombone and the tunes repeat and repeat. There are horse skulls attached to dancing figures.
In between times everyone repairs to one of the many pubs, emerging again for another slow progress around, glimpsing half familiar figures, losing touch and regaining it.
Although it started to rain I didn’t notice it under my wide hat for some time, mesmerised by the repetitive rhythm, the variety of costumes, the lulling within a safe and friendly atmosphere, unusual in a huge crowd.
It’s all inclusive, those who dressed specially and those that didn’t, those that live here and visitors.
It’s to do with the solstice, the end of the darkest shortest day of the year, the oldest celebrations imaginable recreated, continued since people first lived here, the promise of spring, the sunrise to come, the reason Christmas was put at this time, when something is needed to carry us through the winter again, when crowds gather at Stonehenge hoping for sunlight despite the grey morning.
All part of something - indistinct but alive and shared.
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