Weird Traditions
Talking with a friend yesterday about school dinners, she suddenly said, "We had to march into the dining room behind the School Band... except on Thursdays." Since all of us were now staring, she qualified this with, "...on Thursdays there was no wind section. It was a tradition."
What weird stuff have you been made to do "because it's a tradition."
( , Thu 28 Jul 2005, 11:11)
Talking with a friend yesterday about school dinners, she suddenly said, "We had to march into the dining room behind the School Band... except on Thursdays." Since all of us were now staring, she qualified this with, "...on Thursdays there was no wind section. It was a tradition."
What weird stuff have you been made to do "because it's a tradition."
( , Thu 28 Jul 2005, 11:11)
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Local weird traditions
I live in Woodstock, North Oxfordshire, and as a small town it's pretty cool, loads of pubs, restaurants, and a handy back passage into Blenheim palace so you can wander the gardens for free when hammered.
However, these people are obsessed with tradition, what with the Duke of Marlborough living a few yards away, everyone thinks they are minor royalty. I'm telling you, someone looking down their nose at you when you're trying to buy a loaf of bread is just not cricket.
Anyway, I digress.
The tradition they do here is the Mock Mayor, which dates back to the 18th century, when the local peasants got bored of the town officials and decided to have their own elections.
So, what do they get to honour this?
Yup, loads of drunken toff twats elect each other, drink pimms, and then throw each other into a stream, whilst braying as loud as they can. Oh, and there's a greasy pole too.
Woo.
No wonder this place is a Tory stronghold.
( , Thu 28 Jul 2005, 11:38, Reply)
I live in Woodstock, North Oxfordshire, and as a small town it's pretty cool, loads of pubs, restaurants, and a handy back passage into Blenheim palace so you can wander the gardens for free when hammered.
However, these people are obsessed with tradition, what with the Duke of Marlborough living a few yards away, everyone thinks they are minor royalty. I'm telling you, someone looking down their nose at you when you're trying to buy a loaf of bread is just not cricket.
Anyway, I digress.
The tradition they do here is the Mock Mayor, which dates back to the 18th century, when the local peasants got bored of the town officials and decided to have their own elections.
So, what do they get to honour this?
Yup, loads of drunken toff twats elect each other, drink pimms, and then throw each other into a stream, whilst braying as loud as they can. Oh, and there's a greasy pole too.
Woo.
No wonder this place is a Tory stronghold.
( , Thu 28 Jul 2005, 11:38, Reply)
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