The first time I heard the noise, Scout & I were walking along the high street. There was banging, and shouting, and maybe honking, then a truck pulling a hay wagon drove by with a group of women hanging off the back, shouting, banging pots and the walls of the truck bed, and waving to the pedestrians. Oh, and they were covered in streaks of mud or something. Okaaay.
That was the first Blackening I saw. An Orcadian tradition (although I believe they do it elsewhere in Scotland), kind of like a stag or pre-wedding shower. Sometimes the men and women are together, but mostly it’s one group or the other, celebrating an upcoming wedding.
The hen party (if it’s women) are smeared with treacle and driven around town, banging pots and drums. Traditionally, blackenings were a LOT rougher: the groom would be stripped, bound, smeared with anything from treacle to dog food, to, well, whatever (ugh). Then covered in flour and feathers., and then paraded about. But those days are past – while it’s still loud and messy, it’s much more benign.