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| The Will-o'-the-Wisp and the Snake by Hermann Hendrich (1854-1931) |
You may remember, a couple of blog posts back, that I wrote
of Hikey Sprites - supernatural beings of Norfolk folkloric tradition - and, more
specifically, a marvellous book that has been written on the subject.
Its author, Ray Loveday, lives quite close to me, and a couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to visit him to discuss his book and its background in more detail. With the narrative now placed in the context of his childhood during the 1930s and 40s; his avid interest in history and archeology; and the time and effort he spent in researching the book, the experience of it somehow - to me - becomes all the richer.
So, whether you've already read Hikey Sprites: The Twilight of a Norfolk Tradition, or this is your first encounter with the book and with these elusive faery beings, I hope you'll enjoy hearing Ray's reminiscences...
When were you born and where did you grow up?
I was born in 1933 in Swaffham, Norfolk, in a very primitive
little cottage. No water indoors, just a tap outside; no electricity, just an open
fire for heating; you took a candle up the rickety stairs when you went to bed
– that sort of thing. There was a wash house across a brick yard, with an old
copper in it. Mum had to light the fire on the Monday morning, and she put all
sorts of things in there to generate heat – old pairs of shoes and god knows
what went in there. And she had an old cranking mangle, which, if you weren’t
careful, you’d catch your hand in.
There was folklore going around – superstitions and so on.
Just opposite was the grand house of John Chapman, the tinker of Swaffham, who had the dream, went off, came back, found the
hidden money, and rebuilt one of the aisles of Swaffham church. It must have
been an older house with a Georgian front, because he was around long before
then.
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| John Chapman appears on the Swaffham town sign. Image: Keith Evans / Oakleigh House Swaffham ( Market Shipborough) |
My grandmother was fond of superstitions – she was convinced
that stones grew. She used to tell me that if you clear a field of stones,
they’ll all be back again by the next day. There was also a great boulder – one
of these erratics – across the street, which is still there today. My mates and
I would sometimes spend pocket money on things that mother didn’t particularly
approve of, and we used to hide them behind that big stone and go to get them
secretly. So those sorts of things were all in my mind I suppose.
And of course there were all the wonderful lanes, and there
was Swaffham Heath, which was covered in Neolithic worked flints and rabbit
skulls. My brother and I built big circles of rock there, because of course
we’d heard about Stonehenge.
We had a teacher who used to take us out into the playground
and bash away at flints to show us how they were worked. Of course, you
couldn’t do that now; all the kids would have to wear high vis jackets and
goggles and hats, wouldn’t they!
I think that was how my interest in stones and ancient
things started. My brother and I used to go off on our bikes to explore Castle
Acre and Castle Acre Priory. You go there now and you have to buy a ticket, but
back then it was just open – it wasn’t manned; you climbed over the fence and
you had Castle Acre Priory to yourself. Wonderful!
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| Castle Acre Priory nave Image: Richard Croft |
Of course, the Devil’s Dyke was at Beachamwell – one of
these Saxon linear earthworks, probably demarcating ‘that’s your side and
that’s my side’ and you’d be in trouble if you hopped over. I remember cycling
out there and walking along it.
So, it was all magical stuff really. A lovely, natural childhood
of wandering, making dens, constructing things, poking about, you know?
How were folkloric traditions spoken of by your parents,
and what was their attitude towards them?
That is the sadness of it. I can remember my parents telling
my brother and I how our grandfathers handled Jack Valentine – Valentine’s Day night – but they didn’t actually practically do
it with us. They knew about Hikey Sprites – one called them Hikey Sprites and
the other called them Hyter Sprites. They knew about them from their parents.
But they had never mentioned them to my brother and I, otherwise I would have
had that continuity with the tradition.
It wasn’t until a letter appeared in the Eastern Daily
Press asking for information about Hikey Sprites, penned by a Mr Rabuzzi,
that I found out about them. I remember, I was sitting in my cottage reading
the letter, and I said to my parents, “Have you heard of these?” “Oh yes,” they
replied. “So, what were they?” I asked. “They weren’t anything much, just
something people warned you about.”
But as I say in the book, there was that break in the
tradition. My brother went to a grammar school, and my parents weren’t bookish
people. They probably thought this sort of information wasn’t worth passing on
– I don’t know. But I find that very sad really. And it happened again and
again! When I interviewed people for the book, I’d ask, “Did you tell your
children?” “Oh no,” they’d reply, “times were different then.” Funny isn’t it?
When did you start researching your book?
It was in 1984 – 25 years after Daniel Rabuzzi published his
own work. I suddenly thought to myself that day, I wonder if there’s much left
of this oral tradition?
I asked Norwich library if they could get me a copy of
Daniel Rabuzzi’s article from the folklore magazine it was published in. Of
course, there was a lot more information available when he was researching, but
I still managed to get 120/130 active informants.
I remember going to Cromer one Monday, where I accosted this
little lady with her pension book, coming out of the post office. It was the
first interview I’d done. We exchanged pleasantries, you know, and then I said,
“May I ask you a question? Have you heard of Hikey Sprites?” and she said yes
she had. She was one of the earliest people in the book.
Essentially, there are just two common threads: the
night-time (ie the warning to get back before it’s dark) and the curb on bad
behaviour. They’re central to the tradition. And then there’s also a bit of
poltergeist stuff in there – if items get lost, the Hikey Sprites have done it.
So I don’t think I’d have got anything new, but I certainly uncovered more
sites of Hikey Sprite tradition to plump the map out a bit. I have to keep
updating the list of course, and my map keeps growing – I’ve added lots of
spots since it was first published in the book!
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| Since its publication, Ray has been able to add even more sites of Hikey Sprite tradition to the map that he included in the first edition of his book, pictured here. An updated map is contained inside the second edition of the book, published in 2014. Map: © Ray Loveday 2009 |
What kinds of people did you interview?
They were Norfolk speakers. I went to ploughing matches,
fetes, chapels, coffee mornings, agricultural shows, flower festivals – you
name them, I went to all of them. I travelled by bus and train all over the
place, and walked hundreds of miles. I would listen out for a group of Norfolk
speakers, and when the time seemed appropriate – if I thought the group was
just about to break up and say goodbye – I would go in and say, “Excuse me, but
I’m trying to find out about some old Norfolk words.” I’d have a little set
list – what is a mawther, what is a mawkin, what is a dwile – and they usually
were quite interested. Then I’d insert, “And now I’ve got a difficult one you
may not have heard of – Hikey Sprite.” The reply would be fairly quick: “Han’t
heard of it,” or “Yes, just a minute, I can remember my granny talking about
that.” And that was lovely!
Sometimes people might say, “I’ve got an elderly aunt,
perhaps she’s heard of them.” In those cases I’d give my phone number, and
there were some responses from that, but I garnered most of the information
through face-to-face contact; nice and friendly.
I only had one elderly man, in Sheringham, who was a bit
grumpy <laughs>. I said to him, “Excuse me, do you know any Norfolk
words?” and he replied, “Yes: goodbye.” I thought that was great! That’s the
way he felt and I might have felt the same.
The annoying thing is that my grandmother in Swaffham must
have known – of course she must have known about Hikey Sprites, she told her
daughter about them! So I could have got so much stuff from her.
What did you find most interesting during your research
process?
That’s an easy question to answer. The most interesting
thing was not about the Hikey Sprites – it was hearing about the ghastly
backgrounds that some of these people had, and the abuse that Norfolk people
received through using the Norfolk dialect. The humiliation that people went
through!
I had it to some extent – an uncle coming up from London
would say things about my parents and the way they spoke. That might have been
one of the reasons why they abandoned local traditions. I remember one lady
saying, “Oh, we don’t use those words anymore.” Another lady went into service
as a maid, and her employers said, “We’re not having you speak like that in the
house.” It really would almost have been better to have collected those stories
than the folklore stuff. They so moved me.
Do you think our culture is changing to the point where
these traditions might be lost altogether, or do you think the recent
resurgence in interest may preserve most of them?
I think there are different aspects to that. The annual
traditions around the passage of the year – the Padstow hobby horse, pancake
races, etc – are almost being killed by becoming tourist attractions. Even when
you go abroad, they cart you around and wherever you go, out of thin air, a
folksong group will appear to perform for you as tourists. It’s almost to me
that those native things are going to be swamped, and they’re going to lose
some sort of quality. Things like Hikey Sprites – they’re mostly lost. You wouldn’t
find anyone on Swaffham market in their 20s or 30s who has ever heard of them
now, I feel sure.
But of course, some people will now know them through
your book!
They will! They will! And some people have said that they’ll
deliberately pass it on to their children. So, I reverse what I just said – it
probably will linger. Not necessarily through oral traditions passed from one
generation to another, but through books.
I think I’ve done, as one of the reviews said, a kind of recovery
job. I think something that would have been lost has been retrieved – it’s been
recorded, and it’s been given a new lease of life – and I’m pleased about that.
How can we keep the Hikey Sprites alive?
Just by using the
term I suppose, in a fairly jocular way, and by reading the book. There’ve been
many encyclopaedias of faery, which sometimes mention Hikey Sprites, and
there’s lots online – you just put Hikey Sprites in and it comes up.
I sometimes have my
doubts though – is it just a word? Or were they entities? Are they a version of
the fairy realm, like goblins? I feel they are entities, because I think
sometimes I’ve felt their presence when I’ve been out to places like Salthouse
Heath or Foxley Wood. You feel aware that there is something there. A form of
nature spirit, perhaps? I don’t know.
