It's the shortest day of the year, when earth stands hard as iron and the sun sulks away below the horizon like a teenager disappearing into the bathroom for a 3-hour spot-squeezing session.
If you get a move on you've still time to get down to Husborne Crawley to join us in the Act of Darkness Fear.
Unless you've found this posting some time next year, in a Google search for "Gibbon Moon" or "Hitler's Underpants" or "Water Polo in East Grinstead", in which case it's probably far too late by now. Or unless you live in Fiji, where the concept of "Solstice" isn't terribly important at the best of times.
If you listen very carefully you can probably hear the sound of the Gibbon Moon Folk screaming. Try to pay no attention. They're always like that at Lunar Eclipse, and it's not even started yet. I'm just glad we only get one every few years. If we had one every month they'd be intolerable, whereas generally they're just unbearable.
On an unrelated matter, some people have been asking how my part-time degree in empathy and motivational engagement went at Cranfield University. Well, they said the lecturer got depressed because I kept telling him what a twit he was. So the bad news is, I've been taken off the course. But the good news is that they gave me the degree anyway, to stop me throwing any more books at him.
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