Blood red moon

Terrified Moon Gibbon people are crawling under the tables already, convinced that the Gibbon Moon is about to wreak destruction in the Lunar Eclipse. I'm encouraging them by telling them that the moon will go white again. And also telling them they won't be able to see the moon, because the skies are totally overcast. To which they reply, if the skies are overcast how will they be able to tell that the moon's gone white again? And then they go off for another scream.

It's a constant mystery to me. How can they accept science sufficiently to believe that the eclipse is going to happen according to a scientific prediction - and yet they can't trust it to tell them the eclipse will end? And where does this story about the Clangers spring up every time there's a Lunar eclipse? Do the Moon Gibbon Folk think there is an endless supply of Clangers up there?

It's a constant source of wonder to me, how people can live where science, religion and children's entertainment overlap and not understand the difference between the three. Ah well, nothing for it. Time to put the old pointy hat on, get outside onto the Platform of Sightings, look to the South East and wonder if there's going to be anything to see.

The Guinea Pig Folk Offer - a Reconsideration

On reflection, I may have been a little unprepared in my reaction to the offer yesterday from the Guinea Pig Folk of Stewartby to accept any groups of the Moon Gibbon Folk, on their own terms, into a special "Gibbon Folk of Stewartby" sub-sect.  The Moon Gibbon Folk will be allowed to continue to scream with fear at New Moon and Lunar Eclipses, and to use their Wee Moon Gibbon Worship Book (actually the Iona Wee Worship Book with the word "God" crossed out and "Moon Gibbon" written in its place in crayon).

Our relationship with the Guinea Pig Folk has not always been without its ups and downs.  You may remember that last year we accidentally ate their "gods" after our Peruvian visitor mistook them for tapas at a barbecue.  And a few years ago there was that awful event with the steel-toe-capped boots.  Followed by the accident when one of the guinea pigs ate the electronics of a Blackberry device and ended up in a shootout on Weymouth seafront.  But apart from those minor issues our dealings have always been cordial.

But when presented with the news of the GPF's offer last night, I should have taken longer to consider my response.  When  I said "Thank goodness for that.  With that bunch of trouble-makers moved safely to the ferret-fanciers I can get on with moving the Beaker Folk forward into the 9th Century BC.  And think of the money we'll save not paying their druids", what I really meant was "this is a big step forward in ecumenical relations.  I look forward to continuing to work with the Grand Guinea Pig and his furry followers, enriched by the common heritage of the Moon Gibbon People."  I also look forward to seeing the Moon Gibbon druids working out whether they can live in an environment where they'd be expected to keep the rules, and wondering how they'll keep their wives and families on the reduced wages.

I hope I have made myself opaque.