My Own Jarl

Last night was pure street theatre. The organisation that must have gone into it will have taken 12 months at least.

From 6.30 pm onwards the processional streets were lined by Jarl squads holding unlit torches and dressed in the themed costumes of the skits they would later perform round all the party venues, while behind them were crowds of onlookers.
At 7.15 the street lights were switched off and on the stroke of 7.30, a maroon was let off and the torches lit.

The sight was of an endless ribbon of light stretching as far as the eye could see on both sides of the street and beyond.
Then the Guizer Jarl's squad came through the line dragging the galley, with 900 hundred men following on either side of the street, torches blazing and flaring in the wind, for a parade round all the streets adjouning the field where the galley was to be burned.
The atmosphere was thick with the smell and smoke of burning paraffin and the sound of marching feet and roaring flames.

At last, after an hour, the galley was pulled into position on the field and the Jarls marched to suround it in layers of concentric circles. The Up Helly Aa song was sung, a bugle sounded and the flaming torches were hurled into the galley. It caught fire like a giant bonfire while fireworks exploded overhead. The whole parade took about an hour and a half.

It was a spectacle worth coming all those miles north for, but it wasn't over yet: we had a party to go to at one of the halls where we would eat drink, dance(in moderation) and watch skits performed by the jarl squads doing their rounds.

The dancing was wild and wonderful to watch; Eightsome Reels, Boston Two Steps, Gay Gordons and Strip the Willow, all were attacked with the same boundless enthusiasm.
With a dodgy arm and dodgy knees, his Lordship and I were happy to watch: frankly I don't think I could have birled as quickly as these dancers, even though I consider myself rather good at birling.

The skits, performed in between dances, were excellent and very professional with detailed costumes to match.

We left at 1am, but the party lasted officially until 8am this morning, so it's no wonder that it's public holiday in Shetland today.
It's like New Year's day all over again - the Shetland New Year.

I didn't manage to bag a genuine Viking Jarl, but have found a home grown familiar one with Irish ancestry instead, but I don't think that counts.