MAZY MEG AND THE HONEY BEES

"There's piskies up to Dartymoor, An' tidden gude you zay there ain't."


Mazymeg. Photo by Chris Smith ©

Albert lives alone with his beloved honey bees on Dartmoor, a wild and mysterious land where nothing is as it seems.

One day a stranger appears and steals Albert's bees and it's as though the light has gone from Albert's world. But a second visitor comes to his cottage- a little Pisky, called Mazymeg. She promises to find his bees, for she knows who the stranger is- Dark Dewer, the wicked wizard.

Tis said on Dartmoor that to get lost is to be 'pisky-led'. So join Angel Heart and lose your way with Mazymeg and all the characters she meets as she tries to bring home Albert's bees.

Weaving threads of Devon folklore, an original soundtrack by Dartmoor musicians and shape-shifting puppetry this is Angel Heart's most enchanted show yet.



Stoogy Jen- old woman of the Moor

Those behind the Dartmoor mists:

Lisa Green is working on her fourth show with Angel Heart, crafting the beautiful costumes and soft-fabric puppets, as well as recreating the landscape of Dartmoor in a wonderful mosaic of materials and embroidery.

Rachel Miller, of Sonic Tales, will also be creating her third, much-loved soundscape for Angel Heart, conjuring up Dartmoor's many moods and carrying the drama of our story.

We are also hopeful that Nigel Shaw and Carolyn Hillier, of Seventh Wave Music will contribute to the soundtrack. They live in the heart of Dartmoor and for many years have been creating music, songs and paintings inspired by it's ancient wisdoms.

As my fellow performer I am pleased to be working alongside Dave Oliver, of Rattlebox Theatre. Dave is a long-experienced puppeteer and storyteller and promises to bring plenty of character, charm and chuckle to the show.

Roz Hilton, who has performed with Angel Heart on both Malina's Dream and Voyage of the Nutjellynana will be with us as director on Mazymeg and the Honey Bees.

Inspirations for the show:

Albert:

In 1979, when I was 12, my parents moved from Surrey to Dartmoor. From suburbia, busy roads and streetlights to the derelict wooden stable block of an old estate, four miles from the nearest shop. I remember the first time I went for a walk on my own, up the stone bottomed medieval track that led to Lud Gate and onto the Moor. That walk on a summer's afternoon was like stepping into Lord of the Rings! Not Mordor, for sure. But something wilder and more mysterious than merely the Shire. And on the way I had my first encounter with one its inhabitants, of the like you see in the photos of James Ravilious and rarely encounter these days. He was in his 'out'-field that bordered the open moor and he was cutting the docks and bracken with a scythe. He was in his shirt-sleeves with his trousers held in place high over his belly-button by sturdy braces. In his labour he had taken his jacket off but retained the dignity of his flatcap. Here was Albert Cole and stopping his work he called me over.

"Ow-dee-do, me luvver? Wer bainst thee gwain to? Oh, up auver Puper's. Us be in for a skatt zarternoon, zo mind you waz maakin' awm avore dimpsey, me anzum. "

Apart from barely comprehending his strange but lyrical dialect I was slightly disconcerted by this old man calling me 'his lover'. Only later was I to discover this was a colloquial and affectionate term of endearment extended with warm hospitality even to strangers. It was later on I found out that Albert and his sister Stella, (who also lived a little down the road) had been born at an old farm (now but a ruin) a mile further out on the Moor from where I met him that day in August. They used to make the three-mile trek to school by pony and trap. Now, Albert may not have seen much of the wider world, but in a day and age when we are obsessed with getting everywhere (and fast!) he knew his world like the back of his big spade like hands. It was him that told me, for example, about the locally known 'granfer stone'. You'll not find it on any map, nor have I read of it in a book. But it's out there. A large recumbent granite boulder, about midway along the track leading up from Lud Gate to the point where it crosses the ridge of Pupers Hill before descending to the ford over the Wella Brook, beneath the ruins of Huntington Warren Farm, where Albert was born. It was called the 'granfer stone', because that's where Albert used to stop and rest with his grandfather when they were making their way home. Time to sit, relax and take in the view- on a good day all the way to the sea!

Mazymeg:

Mazymeg is a pisky, which is the word used in both Devon and Cornwall for a pixie. Now whether you believe in the faerie folk or not is a matter for yourself to decide. I know that one Summer's day I was a long way out on the open Moor and as I walked through a tinner's gully I distinctly heard the sound of child-like laughter, lasting for at least a minute. It was so merry I took it for a group of young children enjoying a shared game. I was curious as to what school party had made it that far out into the wilds. But, climbing out of the gully there was no one to be seen. The day was clear, the air still. I scanned the distance in every direction, yet there was no one to be seen. I spent the next hour roving out in ever-widening circles and ever-deepening puzzlement, determined to find the source of this merriment, yet there was no one. Since then I've heard two similiar experiences from people living on the Moor- Childlike laughter, yet there was no one to be seen. But that's faerie folk for you- you never find them when you go looking for them!

Dewer:

Now Dewer is peculiar to Devon, and Dartmoor in particular as being the name by which the Devil is known. He is often associated with the Wisht Hunt, a spectral pack of hounds with which he rides across the moor in full cry (usually from Wistmans Wood to the Dewerstone Rocks). It is this aspect that marks him as a very old folk memory and maybe associated with Odin, the Norse god of storms and magic. Either way, he's best avoided, which makes it especially courageous of Mazymeg to challenge him over Albert's honeybees!

The Knockers.

Dartmoor, like Cornwall, has a history of tin-mining dating back in sporadic fortunes to the bronze-age. Although tin was never as abundant or it's mining ever as profitable on Dartmoor as in Cornwall the tinners from both counties shared customs, legends and lore. One such shared belief was that mines were under the guardianship of a certain type of earth spirit, peculiar to the mining of minerals. These sprites were known as Knockers on account of the fact that they could favourably lead miners to a rich lode of tin by 'knocking' within the mine. However, they had to be treated with great respect with food being left out for them so to keep them content. Tinners also watched their language too, as Knockers had a particular dislike of swearing and could even be offended by whistling, with pebbles being hurled at the offender. Knockers were also said to guard treasure and in this capacity they could be far more dangerous. At Chaw Gully, on Dartmoor, where the Birch Tor Mine was located the Knockers were a rather irritable lot and woebetide anyone that tried to steal the hoard of gold that was said to lie at the bottom of one of the old mine shafts.