Forever Mermaid Love:Fallen angels, broken hearts, and land eggs.

"Seven tears have flown into the river. Seven tears are running to the sea. If one day they reach some distant waters then you'll know it's sent with love from me" - Seven Tears, The Goombay Dance Band.

"This must be underwater love. The way I feel it slipping all over me. This must be underwater love,

the way I feel it" - Underwater Love, Smoke City.

Last year on Valentine's night I was at The Old King's Head near London Bridge listening to a SELFS talk about love tokens, love mythology, and love divination. This year on Valentine's I'm sat at home (alone) working, listening to music, and writing about last night's visit to The Old King's Head near London Bridge for a SELFS talk. This year, instead of love being the theme, it was mermaids.

Not that mermaids and love are mutually exclusive. Quite the opposite. Many men have fallen for mermaids. Deeply. Often quite literally, plunging into the depths of the oceans and lakes where they live and sometimes drowning in the process. Other times they've been crushed to death by their romantic quarry (mermaids are said to be incredibly strong) while, on some occasions, men have been known to die of grief as they pined for their lost mermaid lovers.

You may, cynically, say that mermaids aren't even real! But that theory was put to bed, like a saucy selkie, during last May's LFS talk by Sophia Kingshill (read it on this link). George Nigel Hoyle's talk on mermaids touched on many of the same subjects as Sophia's but rather than creating a narrative in which society's treatment of women can be viewed prismatically through society's depiction of mermaids, George (as befits the South East London Folk Society's remit) drilled down on the history, mystery, and mythology that has been attached to mermaids primarily across the British Isles, Europe, and Russia.

I sat, nursing a pint of Harvey's, with thirty-one other attendees as George outlined a fantastical and rich history of mer-folk that took in the tale of the soul cages, the consumption of 90% proof poteen, the dangers of rocking up on Padstow's Doom Bar, a lady on the Isle of Man who called apples 'land eggs', a bench from a church in Zennor in Cornwall (where I was fortunate enough to attend the lovely wedding of my old friends Justin and Tamsin), and a mermaid whose dog was turned into an otter so it could accompany her in her underwater world.

George's talk was punctuated by readings of old tales from Ireland, Scotland, and Cornwall and, as is his bent and our pleasure, a couple of songs about our semi-submerged friends and, sometimes, foes. One in which a seal-maiden's lover, a fisherman - you guessed it, drowns and another a Child Ballad which, too, contains its fair share of death.

They are folk songs, after all! George is a good singer so it seems likely that mer-folk would have appreciated his efforts as, in most cases - and there is plenty of variety and dispute, mermaids and their like are said to have highly alluring voices themselves.

It's how they cast their spell over us helplessly smitten souls. But what other characteristics more generally define a mermaid? We all know that they have a human upper torso and a fishy tail but I was unaware that in some cases two fishy tails are the chosen option, the look du jour if you will.

Their skin is said to be so strong and durable you could sew up old boots with it and they are believed to carry a comb and a mirror. The comb, often made of fish bones, is used for divining the weather and the mirror, presumably, so they can maintain looks so powerful that they lure men to their deaths and cause storms.

Nereids were often blamed for shipwrecks and the damage done by Scylla, a legendary monster of Greek mythology who killed sailors trying to avoid a nearby whirlpool, was so bad it earned her an alternative name:- The Bitch!

Scylla wasn't the only giant on the subaqueous scene either. There was once believed to be an ancient Celtic mermaid that was fifty metres tall with two metre long fingers. Celtic mermaid belief differs quite seriously either side of the Irish Sea. In Scotland it is held that mer-folk are always destined to hell but not so in Ireland where redemption is not only possible but common. A merman named Fintan is said to have been converted by St Paul and was even later canonised.

If a mer-saint sounds far fetched (as if!) how about a Cornish mermaid complaining to the captain of a ship that the ship's anchor was blocking his door and his mer-children were unable to get out out of the mer-house and go to their mer-school? Or the Orcadian belief that grey seals are selkies, humans wearing special skins so that they can live underwater?

Male selkies are said to be particularly randy but, unfortunately, once they've done 'the deed of lechery' with their human prey they don't tend to stick around and help bring up the children. For a human woman to court a male selkie the best technique is said to be to place one's self on a waterside rock and cry seven tears into the waters. If it worked for The Goombay Dance Band (and we're still waiting for confirmed evidence it did) it could work for you.

This appears to be yet another example of women loving a bastard. Many mermen are said to be rough husbands and are even known to feast on their own offspring which, surely, is not what any mother would wish for. These are the mermen of the British Isles. The continental types, it seems, are far more sophisticated. Scandinavian mermen are even said to be 'suave'!

So that's that sorted. But what never seems to be clear - to me at least - is what's the difference between these merfolk, selkies, seal maidens, nereids, and numerous other fishy tailed fellows. I'm not sure I was any clearer once George had run through a few different types but I certainly heard some interesting tales.

There's the Irish merrow who can be identified by its webbed fingers. The merrow is a gentle creature who is sometimes known to transform into a kind of fairy cow and even, sometimes, a human. When, and if, this happens they can be identified by their little red hats. The ugly male merrows are particularly friendly and will be keen to offer you a drink. Living underwater they have access to copious booze supplies from shipwrecks.

Roanes, whose name comes from the Gaelic word for seals, are, essentially, sea fairies but the Teutonic nixie is a more interesting beast. The green pond dwelling nixies are keen on shopping and can often be spotted in market places dressed in human clothes but leaving a trail of water behind them. They also love dancing, either with humans or their male counterparts.

Who are known as Necks. It's believed that the now underground Thames tributary the Neckinger (not so far from The Old King's Head and London Bridge) is named for these creatures although, to me, that sounds somewhat fishy.

The Russian rusalka's quite a looker. She's got long pistachio coloured hair and carries a magic comb with her that can conjure up water in the driest of places on want or need. She's playful but can get carried away. She's been known to tickle lovers to death! The Slavic vodyanoy's not going to set Tinder alight based on looks alone but wait until you read his bio. This dude's a catch.

It is said that vodyanoy are fallen angels who live in underwater palaces with fine chandeliers (seriously, who comes up with this stuff?) but if you want to win the hand of one of these frog faced princes you'll probably need to sacrifice a chicken or a rooster to do so. During barren periods, however, they may be coaxed into your arms by vodka, bread or even salt!

There was a story in the past that for everything that lived on land, there was an equivalent below the water. So not only were their sea mice and sea hares but there was also a sea bishop and when one was found, in the sixteenth century, it was taken to the King of Poland who it is to be assumed was highly impressed with this presentation.

Pliny the Elder, the 1c Roman author and philosopher, reported seeing a mermaid dying on the shore near his home and also claimed he saw a Triton (a giant Greek mermaid) fossil in what is now Tel Aviv. Photography didn't exist then and, sadly, disappointingly even, since the advent of that medium most photographs of mermaids, nereids, selkies, and whatever have been, at best, inconclusive. Often, quite blurry.

Which seems appropriate for a group of creatures that in Cornwall are known as merry maids, merry men, and merry folk. After gently supping my Harvey's I was far from merry on ale but I had certainly had a merry old evening, as I always do with SELFS, and writing my report on it today has also been quite good fun too.

It's not the most romantic thing I've ever done on Valentine's Day but it's certainly not the least romantic either. Four years ago I was listening to Discharge in Glasgow, five years ago I was dressed up as a Nazi at a murder mystery party, seven years ago I attended a London Skeptics talk about patent law, ten years ago I was watching Crystal Palace play Aston Villa at Selhurst Park, and, in 2014, I was at a Harvester in Basingstoke with my mum and dad looking out at a rainy car park after suffering a period of very severe anxiety.

But, hey, unlimited trips to the salad bar and free soft drink refills right? Today's not even the first Valentine's Day I've spent writing a blog. In 2018 I wrote about a Dali/Duchamp exhibition at the Royal Academy and tried to draw parallels between art, love, sex, and chess. Which, in a strange way, felt quite romantic. I mean. I love writing and that's what I was doing so there's always that. Isn't there?

That blog, like most of my others, felt like a love letter sent and never read (in my darker moments I'd describe them as unopened suicide notes but that's just too bleak) but if giving is more important than receiving then I at least feel like I did my bit. Tonight I'll go for a short walk, watch The Last Leg on Channel 4 and some more TV, have some nice comforting food and a couple of bottles of San Miguel. I've even got some breadsticks and hummus in.

It'll be okay. A treat to myself. The idea of finding romantic love this late in life is about as likely as actually seeing a mermaid but that's okay because next month SELFS are having a lost rivers of London walk, I've got lots of friends, lots of walks and exhibitions and even a couple of small holidays to look forward to, and I've got my health. Which ain't bad at my age.

I'd been meaning, half-jokingly, to sign off this blog in a cynical, bitter way but just typing it, and just thinking about all those things coming up, has made me realise (cue MBV singalong) I'm not so hard done by at all. I didn't receive any Valentine's cards this year (and I've not done so now for a whole decade) and I didn't send any either (again, ten years on the run) so all I can offer as a token of love to all those who know me is my walks, my friendship, and these endless fucking blogs.

Love you all xxxx