It is generally recognised that, although he was later identified with Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas/Yule/Winter is based upon a pre-Christian (and therefore probably Beaker) fertility god. Therefore the character we now know as "Santa" should in no way be dissed (as my niece Alysia said the other week).
Therefore - could whoever inflated that twelve-foot Santa please remove it from the roof of the cow shed. Also I'm pretty sure that tapping the power supply straight from the mains like that is bothi dangerous and illegal.
This outbreak of festive bling must stop. It's tacky, it's tasteless, it's burning up the planet - and it's not even December yet.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
Bling
Message from the Archdruid
I notice that somebody has hung LED icicles from the eaves of the thatch.
Can they please take them down immediately? Firstly it's ages till Christmas, secondly I don't want a repeat of last year.
I notice that somebody has hung LED icicles from the eaves of the thatch.
Can they please take them down immediately? Firstly it's ages till Christmas, secondly I don't want a repeat of last year.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Spiritual Growth through Physical Labour
Notice to all Beaker Novitiates (i.e. everyone apart from the Archdruid)
It is a Beaker principle that communal labour is part of the path towards enlightenment - hence the mighty Silbury Hill, the stones of Avebury and the Five Knolls of Dunstable.
Therefore today's path to enlightenment is to include:
a) Dredging the Duck Pond (and removing the remnants of Duckhenge - I always said the re-enactment of Drake's raid on Cadiz was a bad idea)
b) Digging the Druidic Garlic Path, ready for the sowing of garlic (a traditional Beaker flavouring)
c) Pruning of the Druidic Apple trees - except the Mistletoe Bough.
Keep at it - I'll be meditating in the coal cellar with the Herbal Mead.
Archdruid Eileen
It is a Beaker principle that communal labour is part of the path towards enlightenment - hence the mighty Silbury Hill, the stones of Avebury and the Five Knolls of Dunstable.
Therefore today's path to enlightenment is to include:
a) Dredging the Duck Pond (and removing the remnants of Duckhenge - I always said the re-enactment of Drake's raid on Cadiz was a bad idea)
b) Digging the Druidic Garlic Path, ready for the sowing of garlic (a traditional Beaker flavouring)
c) Pruning of the Druidic Apple trees - except the Mistletoe Bough.
Keep at it - I'll be meditating in the coal cellar with the Herbal Mead.
Archdruid Eileen
Saturday, 24 November 2007
Rise and Fall of Bernie
I now discover the explanation for all the new Beaker Folk. While I was incarcerated in the cellar, Bernie has turned my house and gardens into a Beaker Piligrimage centre. Through intensive advertising on the Internet and Chiltern Radio and in "Tea Light and Pebble" magazine, he has built up quite a clientele. He has also, with the aid of a spade and a few square yards of pond liner, created a "Holy Well" in the orchard - highly out of place in an area of sandy soil.
My first inclination was to fill in the well, turf out these spiritual nomads and return the place to being simply my peaceful home again. However, just before carting Bernie off to the Bedford Nick on charges of false imprisonment and fraud, Young Keith pointed out how much money the new Community is raking in.
Maybe I'll stick with it for a while...
My first inclination was to fill in the well, turf out these spiritual nomads and return the place to being simply my peaceful home again. However, just before carting Bernie off to the Bedford Nick on charges of false imprisonment and fraud, Young Keith pointed out how much money the new Community is raking in.
Maybe I'll stick with it for a while...
Friday, 23 November 2007
Spiritual Awakening
It's been a while since the last records of life in Husborne Crawley. To a certain extent this omission is down to myself.
In mid-October, Bernie suggested I investigate the contents of the coal cellar. He said he thought there might be a certain amount of flooding down there. However, once I had ventured down the first step, I felt a firm shove in the small of the back, and heard the sound of the bolt being pushed into place.
After a moment of panic, I remembered my self-powering torch (always useful in East Anglia - climbing fire escapes is so difficult in pitch darkness). Shedding light on the situation revealed a long-forgotten stash of "Archdruid's Comfort" - a particularly potent batch of herbal mead that we laid down in the late 90s, back when the bees were in mid-season form and Daddy was still growing the lavendar and thyme borders.
Since this was the only available sustenance, I tried a few swigs. I'd forgotten the spiritual depth that could be revealed by an Old English beverage like herbal mead. To be honest, the subsequent month has passed in a bit of a blur. However this morning Young Keith, dressed in his best Beds Constabulary outfit, broke down the door and released me. At first the light was quite painful on the eyes, but after accustoming myself to the sensation I realised that the garden was full of Beaker Folk, taking part in the traditional feast of not realising it was Thanksgiving yesterday. The pumpkin throwing ceremony was particularly moving, although the "lynching of the Yank" may not have been totally suitable.
I'm not sure where all these Beaker Folk came from, but certainly it's nice to have them around the place. Particularly on the second Full Moon before Christmas - or, as the Extreeme Naturist Beaker Folk call it, the "shivering moon".
In mid-October, Bernie suggested I investigate the contents of the coal cellar. He said he thought there might be a certain amount of flooding down there. However, once I had ventured down the first step, I felt a firm shove in the small of the back, and heard the sound of the bolt being pushed into place.
After a moment of panic, I remembered my self-powering torch (always useful in East Anglia - climbing fire escapes is so difficult in pitch darkness). Shedding light on the situation revealed a long-forgotten stash of "Archdruid's Comfort" - a particularly potent batch of herbal mead that we laid down in the late 90s, back when the bees were in mid-season form and Daddy was still growing the lavendar and thyme borders.
Since this was the only available sustenance, I tried a few swigs. I'd forgotten the spiritual depth that could be revealed by an Old English beverage like herbal mead. To be honest, the subsequent month has passed in a bit of a blur. However this morning Young Keith, dressed in his best Beds Constabulary outfit, broke down the door and released me. At first the light was quite painful on the eyes, but after accustoming myself to the sensation I realised that the garden was full of Beaker Folk, taking part in the traditional feast of not realising it was Thanksgiving yesterday. The pumpkin throwing ceremony was particularly moving, although the "lynching of the Yank" may not have been totally suitable.
I'm not sure where all these Beaker Folk came from, but certainly it's nice to have them around the place. Particularly on the second Full Moon before Christmas - or, as the Extreeme Naturist Beaker Folk call it, the "shivering moon".
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Bernie branches out
I'm not sure if Bernie is technically as solitary as he claims.
Last night he claimed he was going on a "late night pilgrimage", and took the spare key with him. Around midnight I heard voices outside - taking Daddy's old shotgun, I looked out of the front door to see Bernie and shadowy forms, whose voices suggested they may have been Young Keith, Marston Moretaine, and Hnaef. As far as I can make out, they were saluting the moon. The chanting appeared slurred, but I think it may have been "Linger-land, Linger-Land, Linger-Land" - perhaps a reference to the life of the Land ebbing away into the autumn time?
They seemed to close their ceremony with the old spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" - appropriate for a service of compline, I thought - although the noises I heard shortly afterwards may well have been primal screams.
This morning there were mysterious piles of sawdust on the croquet lawn, and Bernie appears to have had a very severe headache and an aversion to loud noises all day. I hope that he doesn't suffer from migraines.
Last night he claimed he was going on a "late night pilgrimage", and took the spare key with him. Around midnight I heard voices outside - taking Daddy's old shotgun, I looked out of the front door to see Bernie and shadowy forms, whose voices suggested they may have been Young Keith, Marston Moretaine, and Hnaef. As far as I can make out, they were saluting the moon. The chanting appeared slurred, but I think it may have been "Linger-land, Linger-Land, Linger-Land" - perhaps a reference to the life of the Land ebbing away into the autumn time?
They seemed to close their ceremony with the old spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" - appropriate for a service of compline, I thought - although the noises I heard shortly afterwards may well have been primal screams.
This morning there were mysterious piles of sawdust on the croquet lawn, and Bernie appears to have had a very severe headache and an aversion to loud noises all day. I hope that he doesn't suffer from migraines.
Monday, 1 October 2007
Wednesday, 26 September 2007
Food, Glorious Food
I'm starting to wonder whether this agreement with Bernie was such a good idea.
Sure, he is diligent in his role as food-gatherer. He is also a marvellous cook. He produces cheap, nutritious food in line with the Beaker tradition of environmental sustainability. And it tastes good. But when he said he was foraging on the sides of the roads, I thought he meant gathering nature's autumnal bounty of nuts and berries.
And you know, there's something deeply troubling about eating road-kill. Although it's kind and brave of him to run backwards and forwards across the M1, collecting dead animals (thankfully he now wears a hi-vis vest). And it's even more dangerous doing it at Junction 13, where there's cars coming in all directions.
On the bright side, the venison stew last night was delicious. He won't tell me what we're having for lunch, but the thing hanging in the larder looks disturbingly like a badger...
Sure, he is diligent in his role as food-gatherer. He is also a marvellous cook. He produces cheap, nutritious food in line with the Beaker tradition of environmental sustainability. And it tastes good. But when he said he was foraging on the sides of the roads, I thought he meant gathering nature's autumnal bounty of nuts and berries.
And you know, there's something deeply troubling about eating road-kill. Although it's kind and brave of him to run backwards and forwards across the M1, collecting dead animals (thankfully he now wears a hi-vis vest). And it's even more dangerous doing it at Junction 13, where there's cars coming in all directions.
On the bright side, the venison stew last night was delicious. He won't tell me what we're having for lunch, but the thing hanging in the larder looks disturbingly like a badger...
Wednesday, 19 September 2007
A visitor
Just after lunchtime prayers in the (La Tene style) I heard a knock at the door. Someone calling themself Bernie. He was wondering if he could join the Beaker Folk. When I explained that the Folk have been dispersed, and I am now an anchorite in the Beaker Tradition, he asked if he could be one of them.
So I explained to him that the point of being an anchorite lies in solitariness - that Mother Julian spent her life in a cell the bigness of a hazelnut - and he asked if he could be an anchorite in the garden shed.
It seemed reasonable, so we went down to the shed - only to discover that a couple of the Hermits of Suspicion were still there. I asked whether they had room for one more, but they just looked a bit wary. In the event, Bernie is now installed in the old cowshed in the Orchard. I have agreed he can join me in the Great Hall for meals, provided he looks after the vegetables. To be honest, however, while an organic and sustainable lifestyle is of course right, I think I may need to head for Tesco's at Kingston. Swede every day for a fortnight can get a bit wearing. Mind you, it makes being solitary a blessing.
So I explained to him that the point of being an anchorite lies in solitariness - that Mother Julian spent her life in a cell the bigness of a hazelnut - and he asked if he could be an anchorite in the garden shed.
It seemed reasonable, so we went down to the shed - only to discover that a couple of the Hermits of Suspicion were still there. I asked whether they had room for one more, but they just looked a bit wary. In the event, Bernie is now installed in the old cowshed in the Orchard. I have agreed he can join me in the Great Hall for meals, provided he looks after the vegetables. To be honest, however, while an organic and sustainable lifestyle is of course right, I think I may need to head for Tesco's at Kingston. Swede every day for a fortnight can get a bit wearing. Mind you, it makes being solitary a blessing.
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
Tidying up
I thought it was time to clear out the room that had been used by the "Creative Worship" group for planning creative worship. In Daddy's day it used to be his study, and every wall was covered in bookshelves and filing cabinets.
Mostly the filing cabinets seemed to be full of stones. After a while trying to shift them by hand I realised the job was going to take months. So in the end I brought in a bit of help (a couple of builders and a mini-digger) and now I have a spendidly gravelled drive!
The shells I found in the coal shed have also been useful in creating a decorative mulch for the front (and back) flower beds. But I'm not sure what to do with the remaining 15 cubic metres.
As for the tealights, I've melted most of them down and been able to create a life-size model of Anthea Turner. I'll be using it as a garden light during the autumn months.
Mostly the filing cabinets seemed to be full of stones. After a while trying to shift them by hand I realised the job was going to take months. So in the end I brought in a bit of help (a couple of builders and a mini-digger) and now I have a spendidly gravelled drive!
The shells I found in the coal shed have also been useful in creating a decorative mulch for the front (and back) flower beds. But I'm not sure what to do with the remaining 15 cubic metres.
As for the tealights, I've melted most of them down and been able to create a life-size model of Anthea Turner. I'll be using it as a garden light during the autumn months.
Sunday, 9 September 2007
Dedication's what you need
According to Archimandrite Simon, an anchorite should be named after the church to which he or she is attached. The nearest church being St James - but Archdruid James.... doesn't really have a ring to it. I wonder if the vicar would consider re-dedicating it to St Eileen? Of course, we would have to find a St Eileen first...
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