A dangerous exercise in Democracy

I'm afraid this morning's "Say what you think" session was rather spoiled by those who think things I'd rather they didn't. Or people who don't think very much, but do like to talk.

I'd hoped that the invitation to clear the air would bring about a polylog in which all would enter into a spirit of constructive progress. Let us clear out the cobwebs of the old, I thought, and bring in a new era of openness. Where we can learn from one another.

Of course, early on it was all a little tentative. Somebody suggested - hesitantly - that we should perhaps open the roof windows in the Moot House on sunny days. We all agreed that this was a good idea, as it might stop all that fainting going on - which we have learnt was not people being overcome with emotion and/or spirituality. It might also reduce the infestation of banyan trees we've been suffering from.

A suggestion that the King James Version of the Bible might be deprecated, in line with Google's policy on browsers that aren't fit for the modern world, was resisted by our guest, Reverend Drayton Parslow, who'd come along to get some ideas for his own congregational meetings - and particularly how not to get sacked by them. Strictly speaking, Drayton shouldn't have spoken. Not because he is not a member of the community, but because he's an idiot. However on this occasion had to agree with him. Thing is, when it comes to reading of spiritual texts, sometimes the lovely sound of the words is far more important than the actual meaning. What would we do without the King James Version at Christmas? And where would Hnaef be without those words of Ps 106 coming up every now and then in the KJV - "They went a-whoring with their own inventions"?  Fact is, it makes him giggle so much it's the only Psalm we ever read.

But then, encouraged by Drayton's expostulations, everyone started to get a bit bold, didn't they? Morgwyn thought that Pouring out of Beakers was too early, as the time conflicts with her hangovers. Whereas Young Keith thought it should be earlier, so he can get to work on time.

Then Milton Ernest brought up the question of my election last week. Wanted to know if it was healthy for a community to have an election for Archdruid with only one candidate, because the other 16 candidates had all been suspended while the Probity Committee (i.e. me and Hnaef) considered whether or not they were infiltrators from the planet Squob. Well, as I explained, rules are rules. And he'll have the chance to stand himself next year, assuming he's not barred under Rule 67*.

Tilton  suggested we put Muriels on the white walls in the Moot House. I asked did he mean murals, and he said no - "Muriels". Apparently he's taken a number of artistic photos of his wife, and though they might brighten up the place. Well, we saw a couple of photos of Muriel, and even a community as open-minded as ours isn't putting that kind of "art" on the wall. In one of them, she even seems to be on holiday in Russia. And we're having nothing to do with a place that's banned our asparagus.

Then Burton suggested that I might consider making my talks more interesting and shorter. He had been at Spring Harvest, he said, and had noticed that the preachers were engaging, funny and spiritually challenging. I pointed out to him that at Spring Harvest the congregations were also more engaged and more interested in what the preacher had to say - and probably more attractive to look at, en masse, than people like Burton - and asked him which came first, the chicken or the egg? This caused an enormous argument. Drayton claimed, on Creationist grounds, that it was the chicken - while Young Keith insisted, on Evolutionary ones, that it was the egg. Eventually I had to introduce some serious conflict resolution. In other words, we threw Drayton in the pond.

Ethyl asked whether, once in a while, we could have Gregorian Chant in an act of worship. Which was just the sort of intelligent, constructive idea I had been wanting. But then Marston spoilt it by asking whether the "ordinary" Beaker people - as opposed to the Druids - could have an increase in rations.

But it was Elbert's suggestion of a Community Newsletter that really caused the trouble. Some of us asked why anyone would want a Newsletter when there is the Internet and we could create a Beaker Folk Facebook page - but others got all excited, and started offering constructive criticism of the "first edition" that Elbert had brought along. Young Keith suggested that the font was all wrong - being Gothic - and maybe a more modern one would be appropriate? But Marston, who'd only been half-listening to the discussion, thought Keith was talking about the font in St Bogwulf's chapel and went up the wall.  That font, he informed the community, wasn't Gothic - it was Perpendicular. It was hundreds of years old. And he would fight to the death anyone who tried to remove it and replace it with a modern font - which would probably be all high-tec and perspex, and flow running water into the adult baptistery which Drayton has had dug. And if that happened, said Marston, people with weak bladders would be rushing out of St Bogwulf's every few minutes and racing back to the Facilities in the Great House. And then we would have to leave the Facilities open, and remove the signing-in book for the key, and where would be the end of it?

That's the trouble with letting people speak their minds. Sometimes all you get is a kind of hollow, echo-y noise. Next Saturday we're going back to people being told what to think.

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* Rule 67:  "No-one with broken knees is allowed to stand as Archdruid".