Crowns, Crepe Paper, and Community: May Day in Moor Row

If you close your eyes and think back to a childhood in West Cumbria during the mid 1900s, the soundtrack isn’t always the Beatles or the Rolling Stones. For the children of Moor Row, it was the sound of a brass band warming up, the rustle of crepe paper, and the excited chatter of a village gathering to celebrate the arrival of spring.

For many, the highlight of the calendar wasn't Christmas or Bonfire Night - it was the May Queen Procession.

It was a day when the grey slate and industrial backdrop of West Cumbria were briefly painted over with bright ribbons, flowers, and the pageantry of a royal court, right there on the village streets.

What Exactly Was a May Queen Procession?

For those too young to remember, or perhaps from parts of the world where this tradition didn't take root, the May Queen festival is a piece of British folklore that dates back centuries.

At its heart, it is a celebration of spring, fertility, and the rebirth of the natural world. The central figure is the May Queen - a girl from the village chosen to lead the parade.

Being picked for this role was a crowning social achievement for a schoolgirl. She represented the purity and potential of spring, usually dressed in white and wearing a tiara or a crown of flowers. But she didn't walk alone.

The procession was a serious affair involving a whole retinue:

• Attendants: Often carrying the Queen’s train.
• Page Boys: usually looking slightly uncomfortable in velvet or satin breeches.
• Flower Girls: Scattering petals or carrying posies.

The Moor Row Preparation

In the weeks leading up to the big day, the village of Moor Row would be buzzing. Back then, we didn’t have Amazon or party shops. This was the era of "make do and mend," and the creativity was astounding.

Mothers and grandmothers toiled over sewing machines, transforming old curtains, bedsheets, and reams of coloured crepe paper into magnificent costumes.

Flowers were often gathered from local hedgerows or prized blooms donated from a neighbour’s allotment.

There was a palpable sense of competition, too. Whose sash was the neatest? Who had the brightest ribbons woven into the spokes of their decorated bicycle?

The Big Day

On the morning of the procession, the West Cumbrian weather was always the main topic of conversation. Would the rain hold off? A wet May Day meant soggy crepe paper and running dye - a minor tragedy in the eyes of an eight-year-old.

As the procession assembled, near the school, the atmosphere was electric. You can picture the scene:

• The Brass Band: The deep, brassy resonance of a local colliery band echoing off the terraced houses, signalling the start of the march.
• Morris Dancers: Providing the rhythm for the march.
• The Crowds: Neighbours lining the pavements, cheering for their children and grandchildren.
• The Solemnity: despite the excitement, the children took their roles seriously.

The May Queen would wave with a practiced, regal slow-motion hand, while the page boys tried desperately not to trip. The route would wind through the village. 

There might be Maypole dancing - plaited ribbons weaving complex patterns around the pole - and a tea party with sandwiches and homemade cakes that tasted better than anything you can buy today.

A Fading Tradition?

Looking back from the 21st century, the Moor Row May Queen processions seem like a window into a different world.

It was a time when entertainment was locally sourced and community-driven. It wasn't about expensive tickets or digital screens; it was about participating, dressing up, and being part of something bigger than yourself, right on your doorstep.

While some villages keep the tradition alive, the sheer scale and earnestness of those processions are a rare sight today.

They remind us of the strength of the West Cumbrian community spirit - a time when the whole village came out to watch the children shine.

May Queen Procession Illustration