Ritual of watching for Shooting Stars

Beaker People file out of the Moot House (or, as it may be, back from the White Horse) and stand in the darkest part of the Big Paddock.

All: Which way's Perseus?

Archdruid: Over there.

All: Over where?


Archdruid: Over there. Over that way.

All: We don't know where you're talking about. Can you point?


Archdruid: No.

All: Why not?

Archdruid: Because.... because it's unlucky. [The Archdruid may blush. Although, being it is pitch black, no-one will notice]

All: Unlucky? Don't you have a science degree and aren't you a faith community leader?


Archdruid: Yes.

All: And yet you're telling us that pointing at stars is unlucky?


Archdruid: Erm. Yes.

All:  Eileen, what are you on?

Archdruid: I can't help it. You can't point at stars, it's unlucky. I refer you to G. Worthington Smith's magnum opus, "Dunstable - its history and surroundings". It's a Bedfordshire tradition.

All: Eileen, You've really lost it this time. And we still don't know which way Perseus is.


Archdruid: Over there, next to Cassiopeia.

All: You just pointed.


Archdruid: No, I just kind of... nodded my head in the right direction.

All: Pointed.


Archdruid: Nodded.


All: Pointed.


Archdruid: Nodded.

Young Keith: Is it just me, or is it a bit cold?

Stacey Bushes: And the grass is getting dewy.

All: Yeah, forget the shooting stars. Let's get in and have a cup of Bovril.