The Doily Mail

I'd like to thank Hnaef for the attached photograph of an article from the Daily Mail. I'd also like to thank the unfortunate fellow train-traveller he awoke in order to take it. Hnaef's got a keen business brain, and will cheerfully wake people up on trains in the interests of a sale.

I normally avoid the Daily Mail. Being in a state of robust health, the constant supply of health scares could only make me worse rather than better. And living in a large house in the commuter belt with no mortgage, I'm not very interested in house price scares. Admittedly stories about swathes of low-priced  immigrant labour coming into the country can cheer me up, but then I have all these "volunteers" already.

Still, the Mail story would explain why Mrs Whimsey's Doily Company are climbing healthily out of recession. As a result of the story, indeed, we've really racked up  the pressure on the doily mines. Output of doilies is at a six-year high. The only problem is what to do with all the doily dust and chads that are coming out of the "pressing and bashing" process. For the interim, we've stuck them in the little magnesium-roofed shed by the Moot House. The one Hnaef has been storing his water purification chemicals near. We'll have to get that cleared out at some point.

Although I have one doubt about the Mail's story. Is it "This week doilies, next week the world?" Imagine the next headlines in this series:

"Could Doily Dust cause a rise in Lung Disease?"

"Illegal Foreign Doilies set to Sweep the UK"

"Using paper doilies can Lower your House Prices"

We'd better get them made and sold quick, before Richard Littlejohn backs the Good Old British Doily against those nasty foreign ones. Or Dr Evan Davies of the Liberal Democrats, in the interests of equality, declares our (white) doilies to be imperialist, unfairly round, slightly homophobic and a health risk. Although that, at least, would get the Mail back on our side.

The Safe Use of Essential Oils

Can I remind Beaker Folk that it is forbidden to use essential oils before working in the Doily Shed.

An overdose of lavender caused Marston to lose concentration. He now has a lovely snowflake pattern on his hand, where he pulled the pneumatic press down with one hand while his other was on top of the stack of doilies.

Much better, if the water in the bathrooms hasn't frozen, to take a lavender bath after work in the Doily Shed. That way you can remove the lint at the same time.

Doilies

We seem to have received a giant order for doilies.  The Mrs Whimsey stock replenishment system has requested 2012 packs.
Can all Beaker Folk please report to the Doily Shed.  Bring your embrocation, it could be a long afternoon.

Data Mining Updates

Possibly no real surprises here.

People who bought Eamonn Duffy's "Stripping of the Altars" also bought lovely baroque or Romantic-period doilies that make you wish you're back in the middle ages.

People who bought very ornate doilies made from lace rather than paper also tended to buy Newman's "Apologia Pro Vita Sua".

People buying material for the Alpha Course made the mistake of letting someone else buy doilies for them, with the result that they've all got beer-mats.

Doilies that were very plain - frankly just pieces of circular, undyed paper -showed a strong propensity to purchase Calvin's "Institutes of the Christian Religion", while doilies that are made of recycled paper, washed in the cleanest streams of the Scottish Highlands and islands, show a strong affinity to the Iona Community's "Wee Worship Book".

People who bought "The Communist Manifesto" refused to buy doilies at all on the grounds that they're a product of the enforced labour of the working classes.

People who bought Spring Harvest worship CDs tended not to buy doilies at all on the grounds that they're not much use when you're driving.

And people who bought either copies of "Humanae Vitae" or "The God Delusion" will be right back to let us know what doilies they like, just as soon as they've been told.

Good news about Burton

We're pleased to announce that Burton Dasset is feeling much better. He's still jumping at sudden noises, and expressed a fear that the Moon Gibbon would get him if he joined in the New Moon Moonwatch. So we've put him back to work in the Doily Shed while he recuperates.

Doilies

As our service of Moon Watch has now started, please can all Beaker Folk who are still mooching around the Great Hall moaning about the rain please come out into the Orchard to join us.

It's no good complaining that you can't see the moon because it's cloudy. You also can't see the moon because it's daylight and it's New Moon. But the service is the service. You'll just have to get wet and shiver with the rest of us. Just pity the poor souls on the Night Watch.

Oh yes - and please bring a doily.

Blue Moon

Sadly Wednesday night's moonrise was a damp squib. The skies over Husborne Crawley were heavy and overcast, and a light drizzle fell as we stood waiting for Hnaef's electronic Druidic Moon and Sun rise Forecasting Clock, Eclipse Predictor and Personal Organiser to beep to indicate the precise moment of moonrise.

We stood there for a few hours, gradually getting colder, until Hnaef realised it had stopped. At this point we pushed him off the platform and headed into the Great Hall.

Last night, by contrest, was a beutaiful event. The moon looked like a giant Pringle as it rose over Aspley Heath. But, to be honest - it was a bit samey? I mean, the precise point and time of moonrise may change from day to day and season to season, but - do we really care? I was going to ask the Archdruid if she ever felt like this, but my new friend Drayton Parslow suggested it might be best to let it drop. Besides, last night was the last Moon Watchnight of the Lunar Month.

This morning's early strat - 3.30 am - was a bit of a shock, particularly since Moanwatch had only finished a couple of hours earlier. However, we stood and watched the Solsticial Sun as it rose. Due to the timing issues that the Archdruid has mentioned previously, we're going to have to do it all again tomorrow morning. Not to mention lighting the Solstice Flame at one minute to 1am first.

I was hopping to get a bit of slepe today, to be honest, but as it turns out I've been assigned to Doily Duty again. Just another 6 hours of banging the holes out of doilies, and then it'll be time for "Emptying out of Beakers".

Feleing quiet tried nwo, actullay. I've notced once or twice I've mdea hte odd spilling mistake. But not too many, I hape.

Down the Doily Mines

It is wonderful how, as we become more familiar with the People Called Beaker, we are continually enlightened as to the wonders of this Rule of Life. I was yesterday initiated into one of the Beaker mysteries.


As is fairly well known, our Beaker outlets (such as the World of Woad, Woburn, the London Luton Airport Beakorium, Madame Eileen's waxworks in the Marylebone Road and the newly-opened EuroBeaker in Paris) do a roaring trade in authentic Beaker doilies. Doilies are a quintessentially Beaker object, their roundness and whiteness an echo of the beauty of the full moon.

Yesterday morning, with a solemn and reverent air, Hnaef drew we three novitiates to one side, and explained that we had so far enjoyed the Beaker environment in a state of leisure. Now we had to learn the other side of the Beaker Coin (of which, of course, no such thing existed - the original Beaker Folk living in a state of Edenic, pre-currency bliss, each meeting the others' needs, and never having their Advance Corporation Tax stolen).

Hnaef then led us to the Pressing Shed. Never before had we been allowed over the red-and-white tape that separates the Pressing Shed from the Orchard - even though we had oftentimes seen the more experienced Beakers heading down the path towards it after the Pouring-out of Beakers ceremony, and heard the groans of spiritual enlightenment and whacks of endeavour from within. Inside the Pressing Shed, we were shown a large stack of square blank sheets of genuine wholemeal doily paper; a doily press; and the doily-whacking machine. And for the rest of the day we three new Beaker Folk enjoyed the spiritual enliftment that can only be attained through brain-numbing manual work.

First Orville would select the next stack of doily blanks. She would arrange them on the press-plate. Then Gruntrothrix would slam down the doily-press, cutting through the paper as easily as a knife through formica. He would then pass them to me, and I would bang the holes out of the doilies - whacking handfuls of them against the whacking-bar, while the vacuum device sucked the resulting lint out into the recycling bag. To be honest after a while your wrist starts to hurt, but Young Keith came round every hour with flagons of traditional Beaker Cider to dull the pain and increase the spiritual intensity.

A truly wonderful experience of traditional Beaker Life. Unfortunately I have been coughing up lint all night - but Hnaef assures me that after a month or two my lungs will be used to it.