It being an eerie and other-worldly time of year today, I got the inevitable request that we did some "proper Celtic worship". They decided that it was time to go for the real "Scent of the Hebridean Isles" experience.
I tried to dissuade them. Begged them. But they said no, it's the right time of the year so we're going to celebrate in the Traditional Celtic Style.
So I got them to stand in water for six hours, in the Celtic tradition. Obviously, this being the Husbourne brook and not the sea, they were only in it up to their ankles, but that didn't stop them complaining that they were cold. So I got Hnaef to play the bagpipes at them, and then they stopped moaning about the brook.
But they asked me - what about St Kevin and the blackbird's nest - can we go some way towards re-creating that? And I must admit, it gave me pause for thought - I mean, St Kevin? That's as likely as St Wayne or St Kayleigh, isn't it? But it turns out they were right. Proper Celtic saint and all. But I didn't see how we could get blackbirds to nest in their hands - particularly at this time of the year - so I compromised. We nipped back up to the Great House for supplies, and then threw some frozen chickens at them. Mind you, we stopped that fairly quick. Partly because it seemed a waste of chickens, and partly because most of the Beaker People were stuck in the mud at the bottom of the brook. Where's the sport in throwing birds at a standing target?
So to complete the Celtic Experience, we read a three-hour service in Latin to them, while Young Keith threw buckets of ice-cold water over them. Obviously we could have got cold with all this going on, but the good news is that in true Celtic and monastic style we'd a bottle of Buckie wine to keep the chill out.
All in all, it's true to say that the Beaker People have had better days. But I've had a great time. It goes against the grain, but I reckon we should have a Traditional Celtic Day again.
By way of rehabilitating St Kevin, notice the following comment on his Orthodoxwiki entry:
"Kevin valued his solitude very much; overmuch, some would say. When, at the beginning of his hermit's life, a woman followed him constantly, trying to get him to marry her, he eventually solved the problem by pushing her off a cliff."
Maybe I'm warming to him after all.
Showing posts with label Celtic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Celtic. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Friday, 15 July 2011
The Pipes of Peace
Announced by
Archdruid Eileen
Peace at last. It was harsh, but only right.
Mind you, Daddy's twelve-bore always made such a hole in things. And it has done this time.
In the pipes, of course. That's the last time we'll hear Amazing Grace played that badly.
Mind - it's interesting to note that the kilt really does give free movement for running very fast.
Mind you, Daddy's twelve-bore always made such a hole in things. And it has done this time.
In the pipes, of course. That's the last time we'll hear Amazing Grace played that badly.
Mind - it's interesting to note that the kilt really does give free movement for running very fast.
The pipes go ever on and on
Announced by
Archdruid Eileen
Fine. So the Piper has managed, through some Celtic magic possibly involving the consumption of a number of haggises and a pint of Buckie wine, to play all the way through our July Midnight Full Moon Festival.
There's nothing for it, it's going to need Daddy's old 12-bore.
There's nothing for it, it's going to need Daddy's old 12-bore.
Piper at the gates of midnight
Announced by
Archdruid Eileen
That's right freaking me out now.
Angry at being banished from the Moot House, the Piper is outside skirling away in the gloaming. Well, not so much the gloaming. But there's a fair amount of light from the full moon when the clouds aren't sweeping past.
He's up there, silhouetted against the moon, blaring out the Fair Lass o'Gowrie or some such Scottishness. He's apparently done this thinking he'll put us off our Midnight Full Moon Festival. Well, he's wrong.
He's forgotten about BST. We're not gonna be out there for another hour yet. Let's see what his stamina is like.
Angry at being banished from the Moot House, the Piper is outside skirling away in the gloaming. Well, not so much the gloaming. But there's a fair amount of light from the full moon when the clouds aren't sweeping past.
He's up there, silhouetted against the moon, blaring out the Fair Lass o'Gowrie or some such Scottishness. He's apparently done this thinking he'll put us off our Midnight Full Moon Festival. Well, he's wrong.
He's forgotten about BST. We're not gonna be out there for another hour yet. Let's see what his stamina is like.
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Uillean Pipes
Announced by
Archdruid Eileen
It has been suggested that I might like Uillean pipes, if I'm going to ban the more familiar Scottish-type pipes. And there is a point I like about them.
It turns out that the Uillean pipes have a concept of the "practice pipes", which are a kind of sawn-off set with less functionality to make them easier to learn. And I approve. In future Beaker people are allowed to use Uillean pipes, as long as they use the pipes without the bag. Or the bag without the pipes.
It turns out that the Uillean pipes have a concept of the "practice pipes", which are a kind of sawn-off set with less functionality to make them easier to learn. And I approve. In future Beaker people are allowed to use Uillean pipes, as long as they use the pipes without the bag. Or the bag without the pipes.
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