My childhood bedroom overlooked a village green, and I have been fond of those open spaces ever since. My brother and I used to hang out there with our friends. It was our amphitheatre, the scene of day- long rugby matches, and a cricket pitch with the twin hazards of hor- rific bounce after cows had been herded across the wicket, and the risk of a lost ball if an exuberant shot sent it flying into the garden of the grumpy man who lived in the cottage in the centre of the green. 

Given that it was early May, it was apt that the pub on today’s charming village green was called The Green Man. Appearing in vari- ous guises over time – usually a green head sprouting leaves and foliage – the Green Man used to be a central figure in May Day celebrations. 

His origins are murky, but he has been carved in churches and build- ings for a thousand years as a symbol of spring’s rebirth. The Romans had similar figures, as seen, for example, in Nero’s Golden House pal- ace. Bacchus, god of wine, nature and harvest, was often portrayed as a leaf-crowned lord, so he might be the ancestor of our Green Man. 

The Gaelic festival of Beltane was a forerunner of today’s numerous worldwide celebrations of May Day. It was a community celebration of summer’s return. The origin of the word Beltane is ‘bright fire’ and, as always, bonfires played an important role in the rituals. Revellers danced around purifying flames to welcome the lighter half of the year after the long winter. When farmers led their animals out to spring pastures, they made sure to drive them between two fires to bring good luck.