Foolish Fortnight

Yeah. Ke Dezemba in ZA and we all know what that means. But the revelry it brings isn’t new and it certainly isn’t exclusive to South Africa.

Kegeesh Ommidjagh – the foolish fortnight – begins (began?) on Oie’l Thomase Doo (Black Thomas’ Eve) (that was 21st December) on the Isle of Man, and well… they got up to some naughtiness, back in the day:

Rampant fun & the relaxing of moral codes(!) were the norm across the Isle of Man throughout Christmas in the past. Barns were claimed for dancing across the Kegeesh Ommidjagh, with fiddlers hired by public money, where parties apparently got so wild that youths sometimes felt compelled to go outside to continue their ‘close celebrations of the festival’ in the hedgerows…

There’s even a passage from George Waldron’s ‘A Description of the Isle of Man’ , written in 1731 that recounts the scenes – surprisingly candidly for those days:

“There is not a barn unoccupied the whole twelve days, every parish hiring fiddlers at the public charge; and all the youth, nay, sometimes people well advanced in years making no scruple to be among these nocturnal dancers.
At this time there never fails of some work being made for Kirk Jarmyns; so many young fellows and girls meeting in these diversions, nature too often prompts them to more close celebrations of the festival, than those the barn allows; and many a hedge has been witness of endearments, which fear of punishment has afterwards made both forswear at the holy altar in purgation.”

The whole thing is quite a read.

But if nocturnal copulation in the local farmers’ fields in the middle of winter wasn’t foolish enough, then you really need to click here and read some of the astonishingly bizarre traditions of the Kegeesh Ommidjagh.

Groups of young lads roamed the towns making ‘a rare din’ singing, dancing and playing homemade instruments, carrying mollags – inflated sheep’s bladders – with which they hit anyone who got too close. The aim was to make money, but they were perhaps hounding it out of people more than receiving willing donations!

Ah yes – the old sheep’s bladder boinkers. Always a giggle.

In church was the Oie’ll Verree service which took place on Christmas Eve. Here the singing of carols was accompanied by young women throwing peas at young men.

Standard religious nonsense.

Amidst the final drinking and dancing there was the Cutting off the Fiddler’s Head, where the fiddler lay his head on a woman’s lap and made prophesies of who would pair with whom over the coming year.
But these festivities were interrupted by the Laair Vane – a person hidden under a sheet controlling a horse’s head. This ‘White Mare’ would go around attacking people snapping its jaws until it was chased from the room.

Ah. Simpler times.

Look. There was no Netflix, no internet, no football around back then. I guess that you just had to make your own entertainment, and it does appear that the Manx people, having saved up all their joviality (and all their sheep’s bladders and their peas) for 50 weeks, really went to town on making their own stuff up for the Christmas period.

But honestly, who was the first to come up with any of this stuff, and why wasn’t he or she immediately stopped at the first mention of decapitation of musicians or people hiding under bedsheets pretending to be bits of an equine?

They were clearly all rather mad over there.

Not much has changed.

Wish you were here?

I love a good storm. And there’s a really good storm over the British Isles at the moment.

I’ve had the Isle of Man webcams open on my second monitor, and while it’s amazing to watch the Irish Sea doing its thing as we approach high tide:

I’m missing the noise and the smell and the stinging cold of the spray on my cheeks.
It’s just not the same sitting in an office 6000 miles… away.

Some of the best visuals have been from the Scarlett Point cameras – based at the old Coastguard Station:

It doesn’t look quite as green there today, but it does look pretty amazing.

That is Scarlett Stack,  the remains of an ancient volcanic vent, which – as the tide rises – is being repeatedly and more extensively overwhelmed by the incoming waves. Quite a sight, given that it’s a good 10m in height.

Beautiful. And I know that it’s far from everyone’s favourite kind of weather, but I really wish that I was there right now. (Like, on the footpath, not on the actual rocks: I’m just daft, not completely stupid.)

Also – on one of the other cameras earlier – fair play to this guy.

No better sort of day for a run.

EDIT: Still watching (with my sideeye) – suddenly (and briefly) – gorgeous sunlight.

It’s all going off on the Manx border

I’ve said before that there’s a whole different pace of life on the Isle of Man. And that’s a good thing. All too often in this world, we’re rushed and stressed and pressured, and so I think that preserving that more gentle way of life in places like the IOM (and maybe , more locally, like Cape Agulhas, too) is hugely important to preserve.

But while there might be weapons and methamphetamine seized all over Cape Town, over on the Manx border, it seems that there have also been some heinous developments.

11 packets, you say? Unbrielievable. And not grate for the owner who was from continental Europe. And who tried to import meat as well: a deli-cate matter, but really a wurst käse scenario for him. Clearly, there was no whey they were letting it through. And when he asked for it back and was told “no, it’s nacho cheese anymore”. No wonder he went a bit emmental. He was lucky that they chose not to Prosciutto him.

But of course, there is a serious side to this. These products are illegal to import for a reason – to protect the island from also inadvertently importing Foot and Mouth Disease. And if confiscating 800g of cheese and 5kg of ham (what sort of charcuterie ratio is that, by the way?!?) stops the virus from getting in, it’s got to be worth it.

You can’t hide Uranium on the Isle of Man

Remember that Uranium that was stolen from the nuclear power plant on the Isle of Man*?

Of course you do.

It’s been a mystery as to where it disappeared to, ever since it got taken**.

But inadvertently, a local photographer seems to have found the hiding place, simply by taking a local photograph.

Because surely there can be no reason for this eerie red/orange glow, and fuzzy focusing around this traditional Manx cottage, other than radiation seeping through the thick stone walls.

If you look carefully at the branches in the top right hand corner, you can see that they too have been affected by the alpha particles leaching out from the stolen isotope.
It’s also melted half of one of the chimney pots. Nasty.

And the patch of earth in the foreground with no grass growing? That’s probably where they put it down when they got it out of the Uranium theft vehicle.

I know the location of this particular cottage, and I’ll be passing on that information to the Isle of Man police force, so that they can get the International Atomic Energy Agency involved, sharpish.

After all, the only alternative to this being the actual spot that the pilfered element has been hidden, is the local photographer in question applying a ridiculous number of filters to this image to make it “look better” than it did when it was taken.

And I think we’re all aware which one of these things is more likely to be true.

I think it’s very obvious that a serious crime has been committed here.

RBOSS is back!

It’s been a while since we’ve seen some RBOSS (click here if you need an explanation, and here to see other posts about RBOSS), but it’s back with an absolute classic, a stone-cold banger, a perfect example of the genre. Not least because it’s actually of Ramsey Bay, and that’s the R and the B sorted immediately.

And just look at the O and the S. Wow.

It’s dreamy.

And next up, the photographer’s disclaimer:

not done a lot to it TBH

Ja right.

Of course you haven’t, mate.

The yellow is from your pants that are on fire after that statement.

And all that orange was the early morning nuclear test in Cumbria. A bang so big, it made one end of your photo go down. The Lake District is a whole lot less hilly now, and it’s sloping downhill strongly to the left.

It’s a shame that someone took a video of the same sunrise from about 300m to your left.
And that it looked like this: Ramsey Bay No Saturation Society.

Although you can still see the black smoke from the explosion.

See, that’s how a pro works. No dehaze (see the telltale white haze around the lighthouse on the left above), no silly saturation, straight horizon.

But while it might be more accurate and a whole lot less aggressive on the eyes, it doesn’t get you as many LIKES: the true currency of the RBOSSer.

And that – sadly – is why RBOSS will continue forever.

Video: CJ Wormwell