Twelfth Night
The January King and Queen
6th January, 2023
One, two, three! We wind the rasping key of Christmas and release its frantic whirring joy one last time. Tomorrow, it will be dismantled, wrapped in tissue, boxed, and placed in some quiet, dusty corner to be unearthed next year. But in the bright denial of this last night, King Bean and Queen Pea* command we raise our glasses to the chaos of colour and drooping evergreen as if it were freshly cut.
We belt out whisky fuelled wassails until the wee hours; the words alien to our tongue and our landscape, but nevermind. There is a sweet sense of companionship in treading these well worn paths, even though the way is sometimes lost and the signposts are too weather-worn to read. These songs are meant for orchards, not living rooms, and are designed to drive mischievous spirits away. But tonight of all nights mischief is permitted, and bellowing into the dreich dark makes us feel as if we can hold off the inevitable.
Of course, Epiphany arrives, as solemn as the Wise Men. Solid grey skies cast a disapproving light over the detritus of our last hurrah. It feels as though the New Year has finally begun with a sobering ritual of cleansing, clearing and sincere promises of austerity made to our revel-weary bodies.Â
The homemade garlands of holly and pine are swept away and hard lines are rediscovered, and the house feel orderly and stark like the bare windswept bones of the outdoors. I am a little embarrassed by the tears in my eyes as I lift our faithful Christmas tree - sparkling beacon of childish hope for almost a month - onto the gravel path outside. I hope we have celebrated his life enough.Â
My husband understands, calling me to the open window and putting his arm around me. We hold each other and I look at the pine needles and glitter around our feet. The cleansing cold wraps itself around us and we stare past the horizon, seeing instead the bittersweet view from this bridge across time which spans our lives from beginning to end and to which we will always return.Â
I thank God that this moment will come again in the darkest moment of every year; a harbour to steer towards where there will once again be permission to celebrate, to slow and stop, to digest the sunshine, sorrow, growth and change that may come in between.Â
*Traditionally, an iced and decorated fruit cake would be made for Twelfth Night, with a dried bean and a dried pea included in the mixture. Whoever discovered the bean was king for the night, and the finder of the pea became queen. The newly annointed Royalty could then command and demand anything for the whole evening. Having already consumed a large amount of Christmas cake over the festive period, I couldn’t bring myself to make another for the 5th, and so I placed a dried butter bean and half a dried pea under two canapes. They weren’t very well hidden, and were studiously avoided by all until only two canapes remained. My parents became the reluctant royals and wore homemade crowns which cast glitter liberally throughout the house to be found for weeks to come.
What is Twelfth Night?
Twelfth Night - the 5th of January - marks the end of Christmas, and was traditionally a raucous celebration allowing subversion of gender and status roles. All manner of games and tricks were played, and in the less family friendly version, it was an excuse for some outrageous debauchery all conveniently to be forgotten the next day. It was banned by Queen Victoria who viewed it as immoral.
Although some wassail their cider apple trees on the 5th of January, orchard wassailing often takes place on Old Twelfth Night, which is 17th of January.