Liturgy for a Rainy Day When the Trains are Up the Spout

Archdruid: The Rain falls hard on a humdrum town.

All: This town has dragged you down.

Archdruid: As the rain soaks into the dust of late summer

All: Let us smell the petrichor and dream of childhood.

Archdruid: Of endless autumn days of rain 

All: Of rainy day lunches in the Hall

Archdruid: When our feet swapped tarmac for parquet

All: And we ate sandwiches instead of singing hymns.

Archdruid: When we knew the thrill of the new in this re-defined space

Hnaef: And played at Top Trumps on the organ bench.

Archdruid: Hnaef! Get off the organ bench! 

All: And do not run in the corridors.

Archdruid: But now we turn to those at Bedford and Luton awaiting East Midlands trains.

All: Who can read the signs of the times, but can't control the signals.

Archdruid: We think of them, sitting on the platform, with the thud of rain and yet no trains.

All: But why can they not take the Thameslink?

Archdruid: Because even at the best of times, Thameslink trains are like unto the crowded carriage that goeth unto perdition.

All: Whereas East Midlands are like those that go unto blessing - quiet, cool and yet oh so few.

Archdruid: Do those on the platform look at the rain, think of their grumpy bosses, of the all-important admin that awaits them?

All: Do they look at the departures board and gnash their teeth, opening wide their mouths against their fate?

Archdruid: And do they remember long-lost days?

All: When a fall of rain could convert even a lunch break into something new and exciting?

Archdruid: For all things will come to an end.

All: Let us seize the wonder and blessing of sacred moments, that we may hold their magic in our hearts.