Wassailing, Suppers and Slow Afternoons: Five Countryside Rituals Coming Back to Winforton

November in Winforton arrives quietly. The river runs high, the lanes keep their puddles, and by half past four the only light on the road is a queue of headlights heading home. It would be easy, in a year like this one, to let winter be something that happens to you rather than something you actually take part in.

So we are taking part. Across the winter of 2026 into 2027 we are reviving five countryside rituals that never belonged to anyone in particular — not to a brand, not to a marketing calendar, just to villages like this one. A couple are genuinely old, a few have been quietly running in church halls and front rooms for decades, and one we are largely making up as we go. All of them end near a fire, with a pint somewhere within reach.

1. Wassailing the old orchard — Saturday 16 January 2027

Wassailing is the old custom of waking an orchard in the dead of winter: singing to the trees, hanging toast soaked in cider in the branches, making a proper racket to see off anything unfriendly, and generally encouraging the apples to get on with it. Old Twelfth Night — the seventeenth of January, by the older calendar — is the traditional date, and we are keeping to it.

We will meet outside the pub at 3.45pm and walk up the lane to a small orchard that has been in the same family for four generations. There will be a lantern or two, a bucket of cider and a good deal of toast. The farmer has agreed to a single shot over the trees, the children will be handed saucepans and wooden spoons, and anybody who knows a wassail song is warmly encouraged to start one.

Back at the pub from half five: hot spiced cider, a cider brandy punch for the brave, and a proper orchard supper of roast pork with apple sauce, mustard and bread. Muddy boots entirely acceptable. No ticket, no membership, no obligation to sing.

2. Candlelit community suppers — first Friday of the month

On the first Friday of December, January and February — the 4th, the 8th and the 5th — we clear the tables, light the room properly and put everyone at long ones. One sitting, one menu, bread in the middle, no phones in the way.

The idea is simple: in the countryside, the pub is often the only room big enough to hold a village. Suppers are £24 a head for two courses, with a smaller plate for children, and there is no expectation that you come with a group. Couples, families, farmers, people who have just moved here and don't know anyone yet — sit where there is a space.

Expect the cooking to follow the weather. Mutton and barley in December, braised shin with mustard in January, a roasted celeriac and hazelnut pie in February, and something baked with orchard apples at the end of every one of them. There is a vegetarian menu alongside, not as an afterthought.

3. A carol night that belongs to the village — Thursday 17 December

There will be no audition, no rehearsal and no choir robes. Carol books will be handed out at the door, the village singers will lead from the corner, and the rest of the room is expected to join in badly and with enthusiasm.

We start at seven, sing for an hour and a bit, stop for mulled perry and mince pies, then sing the ones people actually want to sing. Half the money from the collection will go to the community heart unit that lends out defibrillators across the three villages; the other half covers the musicians' fuel and a round.

Do bring a coat. The snug is small and the singing pushes the temperature up, but the door will be open and the wine drinkers always end up outside anyway.

4. Board-game Sundays — from 2pm, every Sunday from 8 November

This is the newest of the five and, honestly, the one we were least sure about. It has been running for a fortnight and already has a regular table of four who take their dominoes far too seriously.

Every Sunday from 2pm until 5pm the back room becomes a card table. Cribbage, dominoes, Scrabble, shove ha'penny on the old board, and a growing pile of games brought in by customers. Soup and a toastie at £9, children's portions at half, and no requirement whatsoever to be good at anything.

It is, we think, the most useful thing a pub can offer on a Sunday afternoon in winter. Somewhere warm that is not the house, where you can sit with a neighbour you have not properly spoken to since harvest.

5. Foraging walks that end at the bar — Saturdays 9 January and 13 February

Led by a local forager who has been picking this stretch of the Wye for years, the walks set off at ten and cover about two miles of hedgerow, field edge and riverbank. Expect winter greens, bitter cress, the last of the nuts, and a proper lesson in what to leave alone.

This is the one ritual with a serious edge. Nothing gets eaten that has not been identified twice, the walk is capped at fifteen so we can all see the same things, and there will be no mushroom hunting beyond the obvious jelly ears — that is a rule, not a suggestion.

By half twelve we are back, cold and pleased with ourselves, and lunch is a bowl of soup built from whatever came in the baskets, with the pickles and the ale list alongside it. Tickets are £18 and include lunch.

Why bother with any of it in 2026

It is easy to be a bit sniffy about revivals. A wassail can feel suspiciously like content, and a board-game afternoon is not going to change the world. But something has shifted in the last few years. People want reasons to leave the house in January. They want occasions that do not require a long drive, a babysitter and ninety pounds. They want to know who lives three doors up.

None of these five things are ambitious. That is the point. A lantern walk, a long table, a badly sung carol and a competitive game of dominoes are all within reach of a village with one pub and a river.

So consider this the invitation. Dates are above, details are on the board by the door, and if you want to help — sing, lead a game, carry a lantern, bake something — say so. The more of you turn up, the less we are reviving a tradition and the more we are just doing it.