Sunday 28 July 2019

Kermit's Hermits

You know, sometimes I start to think that maybe, just maybe, the entire Beaker community are a bunch of muppets.

The latest wave of religious enthusiasm to roll over us is the "New Eremetism". This idea is being promulgated by Hnaef. In fact, he's really just making a virtue out of a necessity. Daphne threw him out for playing Messiaen at 2am after a few glasses of port, and now he's living in the Doily Shed till she'll take him back in.

But the trouble is, he's cutting such a romantic figure, with his windblown hair, tatty hiking boots and bits of doily chad in his hair. And he's started encouraging the others to follow his example.

Like Ranwulf. Who is now living up a tree in the Orchard, and eating nothing but the mushrooms of the field. Which is a bad idea with the mushrooms in that field, where Young Keith planted those "special spores" many years ago to give him something to take his mind off sermons. Ranwulf is currently soaking wet, holding onto the branch in what looks to be quite a fresh breeze, and screaming that a badger is climbing up after him.

I originally put the badger down as a hallucination caused by the mushrooms, but we've been to check and yes, there's a badger. And obviously it's not very good at climbing tree trunks, with those big clumsy paws. But who knew they were so good at using ladders?

Then take Gredley. He said he was going to live in a cave. And we pointed out that we don't have any caves. So he said what about the tunnel that, they say, leads from the Great House to Woburn Abbey? So we let him live down there.

He's not having a great time down there. I forgot to mention that my brother is still down there. And he's not happy. Well, you can't blame him. You'd be grumpy too, if your sister locked you into a maze of tunnels in 1994 to stop you claiming your inheritance. So Gredley's not happy either. My brother's been living on the broccoli and Stilton quiches we drop down to him, and the sight of fresh meat seems to have awakened his appetite. We reckon Gredley's all right, because every now and then we hear footsteps and screaming. I suppose we'll have to let him out should he get anywhere near the grating.

And then there's Riddli. Who's declared his intention to be a pillar saint. But so enthusiastic was he about the new role, he couldn't wait to build a decent pillar. So he's sitting on the door step. Which is neither particularly hermit-like, since we walk past him every few minutes, nor all that impressive. And it's raining. And the porch leaks. So he sits there with his umbrella, saying hello as we walk past, and muttering passages from Ecclesiastes under his breath.

Still, I think we can honestly say all three of them have learned wisdom. And they wisdom they've learned is, don't be so bloody stupid.

Want to support this blog? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle.
Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, there's "Writes of the Church".  The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.

1 comment :

  1. I love your "Fresh Expressions" experiments which excite people to live isolated lives in community. Its the opposite of the FX model of building community, and spreading the Gospel of Despair instead of Hope.

    I can think of one or two people who need such and FX experience, I shall recommend that they come and join your community.


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