The Burryman’s Parade

In print for Orienteer Mapazine ‘Circadian Rhythm’ 2024

Words by Zoe Whitfield

Dressed from the ankle up in nature’s Velcro, a vibrant nest of roses, carnations, berries and leaves on his head and a pair of sturdy leather boots on his feet, Andrew Taylor cuts a particularly distinctive figure. Traversing the town of South Queensferry, a former burgh of West Lothian in the south east of Scotland, Taylor holds a hydrangea adorned stave in each hand, embellished with the red and gold Royal Banner of Scotland on either peak, and is accompanied by two men in uniform shirt and tie, one to his left and one to his right. Twelve years since he acquired the title from John Nicol, he is well versed in the performance of the Burryman.

“It’s the only tradition of its kind still practised, and the community is immensely proud of it,” explains Andrew Findlater, one of the two pole bearers, alongside Duncan Thompson, who escorts the Burryman as he moves around the town, greeting well-wishers and attending local watering holes for a nip of whisky, which he drinks through a straw with assistance (the sticking properties of his suit, fully engulfed in more than 7,000 burrs, means movement is heavily restricted). Occurring annually on the second Friday of August – and covering about seven miles over nine hours – the Burryman’s Parade is one of the concluding events of the week long Ferry Fair Festival. A council worker throughout the rest of the year, on this day, Taylor proudly assumes the role of local folk legend.

At least three centuries old, some say nearer to nine, the tradition is bestowed solely on men raised in the town, while its genesis is contended even amongst the immediate community; Findlater believes it shares a history with similar traditions in other towns near the water’s edge (South Queensferry itself is situated on the shore of the Firth of Forth, in the shadow of the Forth Bridge, which connects Edinburgh and Fife). “Many coastal towns in the north of Scotland used to have a ‘green man’ – a figure used to bring luck on the fishing harvest for that year,” he says. “We are pretty sure the Burryman is a scapegoat that takes on the burden of bringing luck to the community, and to rid the town of bad luck, like those in the north.” Taylor’s path then, mirroring the arc of the sun, is a symbolic pilgrimage; a dance with the natural world’s circadian rhythm to usher in good fortune.

An otherwise wholly united affair, the Burryman’s singular ensemble is firmly rooted in collaboration: Taylor’s friends and family are all involved in dressing him on the day, while the burrs, the sticky seedheads of certain species of Burdock, are sourced from the nearby Dalmeny Estate and Inchcolm island, collected well in advance of the event. “We take every burr and make it into an A4 patch; we need to make a total of 45/50 patches,” shares Taylor, relaying the process. “The night before, we prepare the bowler hat and decorate the poles the Burryman holds.” The flowers are donations from personal gardens.

As well as Findlater and Thompson, who Taylor regards as having the hardest job of the parade, “supporting and guiding me, keeping me upbeat,” the Burryman is accompanied by a bell ringer who announces his arrival with the call ‘hip hip hooray, it’s the Burryman’s day’. The four-man group, as well as the many people who come out to watch or offer the Burryman a dram in the hope of sharing the luck, all become protagonists in Alex Kurunis’s pictures, shot at last year’s parade on 11 th August 2023. Building on the work of photographers like Homer Sykes and David Levenson, who captured the parade in 1977 and 1999 respectively, the warmth of Kurunis’s images, shot contrarily in colour and subsequently rich in spirit, boldly reflect the celebratory nature of the day and the widespread pride of the community. As Findlater enthuses, “It’s a special day in the local calendar, one that we look forward to each year.”