Edgelands. The place where myth and history meet. Where Pyn Stockman took us, on the 94 bus, to the forest of Arden, to a brutalist, post-war new town, through a hedge backwards and into a future where unknown generations forage, feast and find good medicine thanks to the generous of heart planting seeds now.
This was an immersive experience crafted purely through voice and gesture – no props, no headsets, neither bells nor whistles – yet the soul of a place was evoked and the spirit of an era captured.
We hadn’t expected a favourite song to be sampled during a storytelling session, but Pyn brought Cork legends to the stage as she danced to the iconic “Where’s Me Jumper?”
A jumper of wool gathered from hedgerow, field and branch, woven with skill, the charms stitched into its seams potentised by whispered words. An heirloom as embedded in the fabric of a family as deeply as their traditional recipe for hawthorn tonic.
Now the threads of the tale have been collected, Pyn still spins it, loose ends thrumming, alive with meaning … where will it go next?
A second tale, drawn from Warwickshire lore, suggested itself. We were offered the innocence, exuberance and goodness of the young goddess, also the hard-won wisdom, transformative energy and protective powers of the crone, all bound together by fox magic and sustained by acorn bread and elderberry wine. We were kept safe from the predations of the squireen and his sidekicks by a timely haymaker from an arboreal ally, ensuring that “neither bone nor blood nor bodies were found”. The heroines stepped into life and the audience into the summer night, imaginations nourished and ready to dream.
Our response? A gladdening evening spent in good fellowship where challenges are thorny but are not the whole story. A draft of hawthorn cordial to give us heart.
Ros an Hu July 2026