Queensferry’s burryman
View the Burryman's route for 2007
 Friday
the 10th of August this year will be eighth year I've performed my
duties as the Burryman of Queensferry. As the date draws near, it’s a task I
think about a great deal. It’s a strange thing to prepare for, and when I was
asked to submit a piece for this years Ferry Fair web site I thought I’d talk a
bit about the preparation for the day. This preparation means I take a week off
work and stop being a graphic designer. Instead, I’ll work hard on getting
myself ready to become the Burryman…
It’s the start of August; I’m
travelling through the countryside on my mountain bike - up near Craigiehill
Quarry, hedges and greenery spilling over the edges of the tarmac. I’m scanning
the vegetation, looking for that distinctive shape and texture, a clump of deep
greenish red stems, broad fleshy leaves and topped with spiky spheres.
I’ll find one and I’ll pull off
the road and walk towards it. This is the start. Standing before the plant,
smiling, I’ll pick an obvious one. The skin on my fingertips will catch in its
tiny barbs; I’ll pluck it from its stem and smell it and I’ll be
reminded........
Over the next few days, my family
will all find themselves in the countryside around Queensferry carefully filling
bags with seed heads of the Burdock plant. In the week before, we’ll pick 11,000
off these jaggy, insect riddled items. We’ll see other people out in the
countryside, some confused at what we could possibly be up to, others grin and
know exactly.
On the morning of the 11th,
around 8.15am, I’m standing in the centre of the dance floor of the Staghead
hotel. The burrs we picked will all have been readied for the day; each being
meshed to another using their barbs to form A3-sized patches. Together, we will
have made around 25 of them. I will be uncomfortable already, wearing underwear,
trousers, a long sleeved t-shirt, heavy boots with a top layer of long johns
stitched into a long sleeved vest – and all for the most basic reason –
protection.
The burrs will be steadily
applied to my outer layer, working up my body. Despite the flurry of activity
around me I will be trying to keep calm and gearing my mind and body up for the
day ahead. A goodbye kiss from my girlfriend, encouragement from all and then a
full-faced balaclava will be stitched on. My body will feel and move
differently, my head will be clear, but I will be somewhere else, somewhere out
of my hands, I’ll leave normality for the day. I then catch a glimpse of my
reflection and no longer recognise myself as the finishing touches are made. Ten
to nine now and I'm standing in the middle of the dance floor in the Staghead as
the heat and the smell from the burrs raises in my nostrils, should I have gone
to the toilet that one last time?
Awkwardly stepping out on to the
cobbles of the high street, I’ll feel the welcome coolness in the air and start
to check out my home for the day. The burrs all start to rub and mesh together
as I start to move. I’ll wonder where the sore bits will be. Somewhere on me,
the burrs will already be working through. As the day progresses I’ll start to
sweat and the burrs will find it easier and easier to work through.
And that’s it… that is what I do
as the Burryman. The rest of the day will be over to you - Queensferry, fellow
Burghers and visitors to make the day special.
Nobody knows precisely what the
function or origin of the Burryman is and I think that’s its modern day unique
selling point. As we move into the future, we all have the option to dispose
with tradition - I am proud that my hometown of Queensferry has the foresight to
see the value and importance of preserving this one.
Everyone I see through my tiny
eyeholes on the day gives me the energy to continue. Confused toddlers, smiling
grandmothers, my family and friends and the memory of those no longer with us
all make my efforts an absolute honour to carry out.
John Nicol
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