Mari Lwyd

The Mari Lwyd and I have history.

When I first moved to Cardiff in - blimey - 1989 to do my Foundation course in Art and Design we spent a week sketching in the St Fagans Welsh Folk Museum. It was there that I first met the Mari Lwyd. I didn’t know quite what to make of it, probably still don’t, and I did sketch after sketch of the scary horses head on a pole. It said that it was a South Wales New Year tradition but I’d never heard of anything quite as cool happening in my home town of Maesteg when I was growing up. Over the years it’s come back into my vision, I even made a lino cut print of it. When I asked my mam she said that the Mari Lwyd celebrations had been going on for years, which I was blissfully unaware of, or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. It could be that it was neglected for a few years, but along with many folk traditions across the UK it’s been revived? One of the cool things about the Mari Lwyd is that no one is entirely sure how to began, what it’s origins are, or quite how long it’s been going. It’s this odd South Wales folk tradition.

Which brings us to a cold and dark night in Llangynwyd, Maesteg in the bleak month of January. When our mate Dai Thomas had let us know that it happens, and we’d gone last year which turned out to be a completely joyous experience. I’d never really seen my home town like that before, full of pride and song. So we were happy to be invited back. It was on a Monday evening so it was a bit quieter than last year, but the Corner House pub was still pretty busy. We met up with Dai, Ed, Richie, Lisa and assorted friends for the festivities. I’d been dry since New Year, but fell off the wagon for the Mari Lwyd. As soon as it arrived with it’s handler everything stepped up a gear. It’s handler sang a song in Welsh asking to be let in, and we sang a song back, presumably saying yes, cause they both came in. Kids followed the Mari Lwyd as it made it’s way around the pub and the Mari Lwyd ducked down and let itself be petted. It’s a scary fucking thing to be fair. A horses skull on a pole? Being led by a man wearing a top hat? Someone should write a horror book about it, hmmm.

We filled the Corner House with song as the wine flowed. I loved the sense of community within the pub that night, to be honest I never really experienced it when I was growing up in Maesteg, but maybe that’s on me (as the kids say). I loved it, the Mari Lwyd is a glowing jewel to be cherished in dark miserable January. I’ll be back next year, and hopefully will be able to bring more people.