Think Pink

On the BBC website (with a doff of the old pointy Druidical hat to David Keen, who provided it via the magic of the Twurch) we find that Polly Toynbee, among others, is signing up for the abolition of the colour pink.  Meanwhile, in a completely unrelated area of the pooliverse, we find that the redoubtable Fr Z (pronounced "Zee"?) is also against the colour pink.  For the third Sunday in Advent (and presumably also the fourth in Lent) Fr Z likes a nice rose.  I refer, of course, to liturgical colours.  I've no idea what his taste in wine is.
We are concerned.  We know that St Polly, and also Fr Z, are powerful and influential people in their own spheres.  But surely removing parts of the electromagnetic spectrum is out of the power of even these illuminati?
For be sure, pink is not a "pure" colour.  It is a mixture of others.  If you want to get pink, you have to mix red and some other kind of light that we can't quite work out this early on the Day after the Immaculate Conception.  Imagine a world devoid of both red, and whatever else it is that makes pink.  Liverpool would look a fine sight running out onto the pitch in whatever their shirts would look like if there were no red - it might be yellow for example, and then their current resemblance to Norwich City would be complete.
No, be sure, we need pink, even if it is just the hapless by-product of other, more robust colours.  Who wants to eat a green peach?  Would roses look so lovely if they were brown?  What would the popular artist Pink call herself?  Beige?
So today we have a Celebration of Pink day in the Community.  I attach the programme below.  I am sure we will all find it... garish.


12 noon - Lunch (Medium-rare steak with Pink Fir Apple potatoes)

4pm - At Filling Up of Beakers (in the Library, while the Moot House is - yet again - rebuilt), the Focus Altar will be swathed in pink cloth, which will trail - like a pink river - down the centre of the Space.  Meanwhile to either side of the Liturgical Runway, there will be lit rose-scented tea lights in a profusion of colours (pink and white).  I'm sure nobody has ever thought of doing this before, and equally sure that all heterosexual males will feel absolutely no embarrassment and discomfort about this.  Or the pink curtains with puppy dogs and kittens we've hung there.  Or the pink carpet.  Or the soft toys (one per person) we're leaving on the seats before the Ceremony.

7pm - Tea - Angel Delight with pink custard.  And one half (top left and bottom right quadrants) of the Battenburg Cake.

8 pm - A recreation of "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd.  Young Keith on trombone and Edith playing Tabla.  It's going to be a scream.  No, really,  It is.

9pm - Large quantities of rose wine to recover from the concert.

10pm - All-night showing of the Perils of Penelope Pitstop.

Hi-viz colour - yes, you guessed.  But this sight concerns us.  If this is "knitted polyester", who knitted it?  The builder's Nan?  And if you open the larger image we're not totally convinced he's a builder at all.  In fact, we think he may be one of the team on the shoot.  One of the "Marketing" people.

Liturgy of the Berlin Wall

During the first part of the service, a giant wall may be built, of bricks, breeze blocks, or as it may be pebbles or (if there are children present) Duplo blocks. Frankly, Lego is a bit small for this.

Archdruid: Brothers, sisters, and siblings of unspecified gender, we gather together to remember the 19th anniversary of the coming down of the Berlin wall.
All: Ooh, is it 19 years already? Seems like yesterday.

We spend a moment wondering where the last 19 years have gone.

Archdruid: We remember all the walls in our own life we have built - between ourselves our God, between ourselves and others - even within our own minds, between aspects of our own personalities.

Another moment is spent as we try to imagine building a wall between aspects of our own personalities, and wondering what the Archdruid is on this morning.

Archdruid: We remember those in our lives that have caused us to build these walls. All those teachers who wouldn't leave them kids alone, the parents maybe lost in unexplained wild-animal mysteries over on Aspley Heath, the forces of authority. And we say together:

All: All in all, you're just another brick in the wall.

Archdruid: OK, I know what you're all waiting for. Let's get on with it.
All: Tear down the Wall! Tear down the Wall!

The Arch-Assistant to the Arch-druid will hand out safety goggles, gloves, and sledge hammers. Or, as it may be for Duplo, blow-torches.

After the Tearing Down of the Wall, this hymn may be sung:

All: All alone, or in twos,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.

And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad b*gger's wall.