Tall tales: Days of Lore

The British, Londoners in particular, tend to get slightly embarrassed about celebrating our national heritage. It's all well and good to ooh and ahh over fireworks and a bonfire on 5 November, but most people come over all uncomfortable when they encounter Morris dancers tinkling their bells on the high street. Simon Costin, a conceptual set designer and long-time collaborator with photographer Tim Walker, is on a crusade to change this, and is at the forefront of the 720 or so festivals that take place each year celebrating British heritage. 'I've become obsessive about British folklore, and can't understand why it so often gets pooh-poohed and trivialised when it's so important,' he says.

In 2009, Costin took to the roads of Britain in a converted 1976 Castleton caravan stuffed with folklore memorabilia to start evangelising. The reaction astonished him. 'It was really gobsmacking and not at all what I'd been expecting; people had such a passion for the museum and I realised we have a real need for this stuff.' The collection, which features everything from a 'kern baby' (a doll made from the last sheaf of corn) to a box of 1920s fireworks, has outgrown the caravan, so Simon is opening a pop-up museum in Stratford-upon-Avon, which will move to Brompton Road in November. Meanwhile, the search for a permanent site continues.

Costin believes that the political and financial crises are driving the resurgence of interest in folklore; that we feel a need to look back to our collective past for reassurance and a means to let off steam. After all, what better way to do that than to throw yourself into the 'sway' (scrum) to wrestle the 'hood' (leather tube) into your favourite pub in Haxey; or roll an 8lb Double Gloucester cheese down Cooper's Hill; or watch 17 men careering around the streets of Ottery St Mary with blazing, tar-soaked barrels strapped to their backs. 'It is pretty mind-blowing to watch, especially in this nanny state where health and safety dictates everything. Ottery St Mary holds a fist up to it all. You just have to make sure you get out of the way when they charge.'

He is adamant that folklore is a force for the positive: 'Festivals draw people together for a purpose that is grown from the need of the community, so they are a unifying reflection of what the community stands for. You don't have riots in Abbot's Langley; you don't have riots in Ottery St Mary.' Maybe there is something for Londoners to learn after all. Anyone for a jig?
(museumofbritishfolklore.com)