May Morning, May Meaning and Englishness

On Englishness, Sunshine, and the Magic of May Day

It’s the first May bank holiday weekend, and — miracle of miracles — the sun is actually shining. The garden is full of blossom, the hedgerows are flush with bluebells, cow parsley, and all across England, we’re brushing off our cobwebs and stepping out into the light.

May Day isn’t just a day off. It’s a thread in the long, complicated tapestry of what it means to be English — not the England of headlines, but the one of fields, fairs, firelight, and folklore.

This year, it’s landed just a week or so after St George’s Day, giving us a rare chance to string two very different celebrations together. And yet, maybe they’re not so different after all.

England’s Season of Reawakening

In Cornwall, May Day kicks off in full pagan flourish with the Padstow ‘Obby ‘Oss — two great black-cloaked horses prancing through flower-strewn lanes to the beat of drums and accordions. There’s dancing. Drinking. Young women ducking under the Oss’s swirling skirt (some say for luck, others for love).

Further north, Morris dancers rise with the sun, stepping and clashing their sticks to summon in the summer. In Oxford, choral scholars at Magdalen College sing madrigals from the bell tower at dawn — while those who’ve stayed up all night below half-hear the music through a haze of merriment — and mischief maybe.

In every region, May brings with it something quietly defiant: joy without instruction. Community without corporate planning. The ancient, evergreen right to simply celebrate being alive, being together, being here.

Saints of Springtime — Pagan and Christian

At first glance, St George and May Day make odd bedfellows. One a Christian martyr; the other a fertility rite with roots in Beltane and Dionysian revels. But look closer and they share something profound.

Both belong to a deeper, older England — not the England of dominance and division, but of courage and connection. St George, a Greek-speaking Christian from what is now Turkey, an immigrant who died for his minority faith. May Day, a celebration that has persisted in countless guises despite attempts to sanitise, suppress or simply ignore it.

In England, a country that’s often anxious about her own identity, these spring celebrations remind us that Englishness has never been about purity. A melting pot of immigrants for thousands of years, our history has been about layering. Adaptation. The ability to keep hold of our roots while welcoming in new ones.

The Soft Power of Celebration

And when it comes to tradition, we’re not here so much for pomp or posturing, any more. We’re here for sheepskins on pub benches, garden gatherings in cardigans, and warming mugs of something good (or something cold) by the fire pit as the light stretches long into the evening.

This May bank holiday, we think it’s worth marking the moment. Not with fireworks or forced festivities, but with things that mean something. Things that hold memory in their fibres. Things that make us feel quietly proud to belong here.

Wool for May Mornings and English Evenings

Here are a few pieces to warm your limbs and your sense of place, all made in the UK, and all grounded in a tradition of doing things properly:

John Atkinson Blankets

Yorkshire-woven and heritage-rich. Perfect for wrapping around shoulders at the garden table long after the sun’s gone down.

Duchess Merino Blanket

Soft, elegant, and quietly luxurious — like the countryside in spring.

Wool Picnic Rugs

For meadows, moors, or even the back garden. British-woven, hard-wearing, and perfect for laying out strawberries, stories, or a snooze in the sun.

British Sheepskins

For picnics on the lawn, seats on the stone bench, or as a fireside rug beneath bare feet.

Mohair Socks

Because even May mornings can bite your toes. Ours are spun in the UK and worn by shepherds, hikers and those in the know.

A Season for Lightness

This May Day — and this May weekend — let’s not overthink it. Let’s not demand a purpose, a doctrine or a dogma. Let’s just be glad the sun’s out, the land is green again, the great good fortune that we were born during the last 10-odd years and live in a free country in a temperate climate.

Let’s nod to the old songs. Let’s warm ourselves with wool — and cool ourselves too with it! Let’s welcome summer with open arms and a raised glass, or mug, or tankard — and be proud of the England that holds both Beltane and madrigals in the same season.

Happy May Day, from Harry and Sarah