The Cotswolds, beneath the permanence and solidity, the forever exterior, is an idiosyncrasy borne out of the ancient traditions of the past centuries.
From the moment the first morsels are thrown a thrill of excitement ignites the crowd. Hands outstretched, every man, woman and child battles for his share of the bounty. There are no rules in this battle - women hoist restricting skirts.........
Competitors sit on the edge of a steep slope, waiting for the guest roller to release a 7lb Double Gloucester cheese on the count of the Master of Ceremonies. They then race down the hill..........
The church yard is famous for its 99 yew trees and the many attempts to grow the hundredth have never succeeded.
The 'Clypping' comes from the Saxon word 'ycleping' meaning 'embracing' and the ceremony involves local children carrying nosegays..........
This event is a colourful procession of costumed villages led by the Mop Man who wields a wet mop to clear crowds, from the War Memorial to the Mayor's Pool. The Mayor and Queen are held shoulder high, but this dubious honour culminates in a dunking in the pond for the Mayor who is then washed with spring water........
Tetbury used to be a very important wool town and the origins of the races go back to the 17th century. Some say it was started by young drovers showing off to their girlfriends.....
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