Friday, 28 April 2017

Beltane Beckons.

It’s nearly Beltane again. I like Beltane. Beltane Eve is the night on which courting couples gather in the local churchyard with the express intention of behaving indecorously. And Beltane itself is the day on which the biggest of the bonfires smells alluringly of roast policeman.

I didn’t have a Beltane fire last year because it didn’t feel like Beltane, and whether I shall have one this year remains to be seen. It’s not quite the same for me, you see. I’m not half of a courting couple, and even if I were I would probably find it difficult to behave quite that indecorously, whether in a churchyard or a more traditional venue like a bedroom or the back of a Ford Transit van. And I have an absolute terror of being burned alive, with the inevitable corollary that I experience the most abject horror if I witness any other sentient creature finding the same end. (I could tell the story of the poor bee, but I won’t.)

I have, however, experienced the odd bit of intriguing but apparently harmless magic on Beltane Eve. If I should decide to invite some this year, and if the denizens of other dimensions should accept the invitation, I’ll be sure to let you know.

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