Time to Blaze of glory
a cygnet in the bay. The show is far more entertaining than it should be, a rock-sharp local satire.
You can tell by the gasps that some of the material is close to the knuckle.
That lady who keeps cats could be deeply offended. Thankfully, she isn’t here.
The Christmas trees do a joke about the Jarl, Andrew, getting lost. Andrew, the much-loved janitor at the big school, himself does a turn.
There are more sandwiches. Some of the acts have clearly taken months of practice. Some are just a few drunk people on a stage. All are glorious.
And then come our boys. Like an am-dram Monty Python they storm the stage in Viking armour. They shout and fight and sling gentle insults at the schoolchildren sitting in the front row.
There is a mock fight which becomes a melee, then a rumpus.
They fall from view and scrabble on the floor of the stage. Then one stands tall, sword aloft.
“Tur Langton!” he shouts. He
Tur Langton Vikings. Right, village hall show wants us to join in. “Tur Langton!” we cry in semi-unison. “Tur Langton! Tur Langton!”
There’s something about islands. The people of small islands seem closer somehow to the things that matter: closer to each other and closer to the land.
Most of the rest of us down on mainland Britain have gone through generations of moving – moving away from each other and away from our connection to our landscape, whether that’s from within our large islands or from beyond.
Recently, in the long aftermath of the lockdown, we are all islanders in a way.
Both more remote from the world and yet more connected to each other and our immediate surroundings.
Up Helly Aa 2021 is, sadly, cancelled. But it will return. As must our four proud heroes from Leicestershire. But Shetland will be open. And there