A lovely ceremony of Skipping Through Daisies today.
Ardwulf had mowed a beautiful labyrinth into the Daisy Lawn, round which we skipped as we sang "Daisies are our silver". As we approached the central sundial, surrounded by pieces of broken coral and cowrie shells, we danced beautifully, waving the shawls in sparkling paisley patterns in a display of vivacity and joyful abandon. At the sight of the shawls of 25 middle-aged Beaker Folk shimmering and swirling in the breeze, I rejoiced. This is true worship - to create wondrous colours while behaving in a vaguely folky manner.
Someone suggested we continue in our worship by singing "I Will Dance (Undignified)". Which I promptly vetoed. We didn't want to make fools of ourselves.
If this is all the treasure you can have or hold, it's pretty good
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