Copse and Doggers
Gosh. I hadn't realised there had been such a long period of radio silence, mostly attributable to preparations for the winter solstice.
Too tired to blog after those frequent trips to Harrods Food Hall that will have swelled the personal wealth of that nice Mr Fayed.
"You fuckin' good customer, Willie, innit?", he said to me and pressed a dossier into my hand that detailed how the Duke of Edinburgh had organised the deaths of his son Dodi and Diana, asking me to post it on my blog. "Don't worried, that family never sue", he said. "Anyway, it's all true, the fuckin' bastards." And with that he rushed off to greet Joan Collins.
Then there have been the preparations for the annual gathering of the Middle England Pagan Alliance. In our most ambitious ceremony to date I am to ascend to the topmost boughs of an oak tree in Dimmock's Copse on a concealed fork lift truck in a cloud of dry ice whilst my acolytes dance naked and flagellate themselves with lupin blooms.
Obtaining lupin blooms proved difficult at this time of year until old Mr Skidmore kindly grew some for us in his heated greenhouse. We told him they were to decorate the parish church. This may prove a problem when Mr and Mrs Skidmore take their grandchildren to the Christingle service and find the church is a lupin-free zone. Nigel, our deputy Wicca Master, is working on a cover story that involves his van being hijacked by a local florist.
I'm not sure Nigel was the best person to entrust with ensuring the secrecy of the event. I've had my doubts about him ever since he proposed calling our new website 'Wikipedia'.
But that's a minor problem compared to our attempts to prevent a repeat of last year's débacle when our solstice ceremony clashed with a gathering of Middle England doggers. Brenda, using her skills as the local Emergency Planning Officer, has been negotiating through websites with what she calls 'the dogging community' to persuade them either that Christmas should be spent with your family or that a local hill fort would be a more suitable venue for them than Dimmock's Copse. So far she's been offered a threesome in a Ford Galaxy and a secondhand night vision camcorder (as new) for £250. But it's early days.
Say what you like about Christianity, all the organisation's done for you. All you have to do is turn up. Sometimes pantheism can be a pain in the arse.