Tuesday 23 September 2014


Archdruid: and so we salute the risen sun, giver of light and burn.

All: it's a bit cold, in it?

Archdruid: The year is poised like a bird on a telephone wire, neither day nor night has sway.

All: it's really rather parky.  Can't we do this in the Moot House?

Archdruid: As the prophet wrote, "the summer is over and we are not yet saved."

All: Given your sermons that's not surprising. Can we go in the warm now, please, Eileen?

Archdruid: The emblazoned leaves fall from the trees.

All: That's ash die-back. We told you - you should have consulted Defra at the time.

Archdruid: Dying! Dying! The year is dying!

All: That's more like it. Bit of serious melodrama. Much better for the whole gloomy atmosphere.

Archdruid: And now, Hnaef will once again attempt his Equinoctial a Feat of Balance on the tightrope above the Duck Pond, after which we will return to the Great House for baked apples.

All: Baked apples! Why didn't you say?

All may immediately leave for the Great House, to discover there's proper custard as well.

Hnaef: Hello? Is there anybody there? I daren't look down. Can anybody help me?

1 comment :

  1. What a harmonious bunch you are - all afloat on a sea of garbage liturgy than Apple pie cures all. This sounds very much like US Extreme Right Wing Christianity (or something).

    And poor Hnaef, let suspended in mid-air with only a dirty, muddy, duck pond for his cushion. Mind you, he might surprise the lot of you by walking on water? Naah, on second thoughts, more likely, walking in water.


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