There's nothing like marching behind a band to get you into the swing of things. Away from the little Lutheran church in the Swedish village of Bjursas and up the hill we went. Nearing the top, the brass players ran out of puff, leaving it to the drums and cymbals to get us the last few steps along the road and into the meadow where the midsummer maypole was to be erected. The Swedes have this great word: Klamdag. It means "squeeze day", and it's what they do on Midsummer's Eve, slipping away from work Friday lunchtime in order to squeeze in a good night's drinking, dancing and carousing round the maypole.
The summer solstice is the time when the north pole tilts closest towards the sun. For most of us this is June 21st - the longest day of the year. But for some, it means a magical three days when the sun seems to stand still (solstice means unmoving sun), ending with celebrations on St John's Eve. And, since the celebrations are all to do with the sun, bonfires figure largely. In St John's, capital of Newfoundland, the school students celebrate by making a bonfire of their books.
On the island of Arranmore, off the coast of Donegal, they have a long tradition of lighting bonfires on that night. "It's a west Donegal tradition," islander Charlie O'Hare told me. "Sure we've nothing else to do up here, except listen to the cuckoo, cut the hay and light the bonfires." In the old days, apparently, you could look across at the mainland and see every hillside ablaze with fires. Everyone came home from Scotland round about St Patrick's Day and stayed to cut the hay. There were bonfire competitions and dancing on the beach and, if the guards came, you could see them in advance, rowing through the skerries from Bunbeg or Burtonport. There was an edge of mystery to St John's Eve too, because in the old days it was thought the soul left the body on this night and travelled to the place where the person would eventually end their days.
There were no bonfires in Bjursas, but there was the maypole that had first to be garlanded and then erected by a team of 10 strong men - a big, 30-foot symbol of fecundity with a cockerel on top. First, the men and women twined plaited ropes of straw and leaves round the maypole, passing the garlands over and under until the whole thing was decorated. Then the men moved into action. Working in pairs, they used forked poles to push the maypole upwards, urged on by cries from the crowd of "Hey!", followed by "Ooooh!" Once the maypole was up and fixed safely in its socket, the local pastor said a few words and then it was time for everyone to join hands and do a dance around the pole. It was a very sedate dance - no reference to the fact that we were circling a giant phallic symbol, and no raucous shouts or bawdy asides. Just a group of men, women and children enjoying themselves in the warm sunshine.
In Dalarna, the area of central Sweden most famous for its midsummer festivals, there is a strict dress code: women wear black bonnets with white wimps (patterned if they're married, plain if they're going to a funeral). In Bjursas, the dress is black serge with red trim on the inside of the hem. You have to get this right. But who's going to check? "Oh, someone will notice," a woman told me. "For instance, I am wearing the wrong apron. It's striped when it should be plain. If someone from my village sees me, they will frown."
The men, too, have their outfits - black frock coats, yellow moleskin breeches, and black stockings held in place with scarlet garters decorated with matching bobbles. The boys and girls appear like exact, tiny replicas of their parents.
Later, in Bjursas, there was dancing on an outdoor dance floor to a country & western band: 1970s jives as well as waltzes and polkas, well into the warm night. And then, because this was midsummer's eve, I wandered away from the music and the singing to walk along the edge of the lake where the water was blue and smooth. White moths flickered among the lupins and the silver birch trees gleamed in the strange metallic light of the midnight sun. Around half past twelve, a dusky gloom seem to settle on everything. Then, within minutes, light started to seep across the sky again: night and day in the same hour.
Next day, there was another maypole party, this time in the tiny village of Tallberg. Here, the meadow grass smelled so sweet you could lie down in it all day. Buttercups and cow parsley lined the grass verges, lupins of every colour grew wild in the ditches, and red geraniums tumbled out of window boxes. Gates to the red-ochre houses (there are rich deposits of copper in the area) were arched with greenery and even the telephone box was decorated with flowers. Up past the old church was the maypole meadow, the new-mown hay smelling like toffee. Here, a lively fiddle band was playing polkas. Two of the musicians were playing key fiddles. These old instruments are similar to fiddles in appearance, but are played by pressing a row of small wooden keys.
The MC, in smart breeches and black coat, introduced the people who had come from the surrounding areas. Their clothes were an indication of which town or village they were from. The MC was a hard taskmaster, leading the singing, telling jokes, calling out the complicated set dances and, when people took too long a rest on the grass, urging them on their feet again. Later, when I spoke to him, I discovered he wasn't Swedish at all but Kenneth Keys from Enniskillen who had married in Tallberg, and ended up staying there.
As afternoon flowed gently into evening, the sunlight grew golden among the trees. White moths came out again to hover above the long grass, and just when I thought nothing could improve on this perfect day, I went to have a last look at the maypole and found, at my feet, a clump of lily-of-the-valley.
Connections: SAS has two daily flights Dublin-Stockholm via Copenhagen. Prices start at £228, excluding tax. There are 10 trains a day, Stockholm to Borlange. A Sweden Rail Pass offers unlimited travel for three days. Cost £110. Details from German Rail: 0044 171 317 0919 or email swedenbooking@gtsab.sc
Alternatively, you can fly direct DublinBorlange via Copenhagen. Price £282. Scandinavian Travel Service has holiday packages to Dalarna from Dublin: 0044 171 559 6666. You'll find more information about Sweden on this website: www.visit-sweden.com