Workmen and Wicker Men.

Some guy from down the road invaded the ground in front of my house at dusk tonight. He’d come to do a job for the woman next door and stayed up his ladder until darkness fell.

Twilights are very special to me and I don’t like having them invaded. And I shall be particularly unhappy if he invades again tomorrow night because tomorrow night is one of the big nights of the year. It’s Beltane Eve tomorrow and readers of longstanding will remember that I have a fire on Beltane Eve. It’s a very private affair and attendance is strictly by invitation. Not that I ever issue invitations, of course, because there’s nobody to invite. (Well, actually, there is one person who would be more than welcome to share my Beltane Eve fire, but it certainly isn’t the man from down the road.)

Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the esteem in which I hold Beltane Eve, I admit that I don’t do the job properly. My pagan proclivities, such as they are, don’t stretch to lighting the fire at sunset and keeping it lit until sunrise on May 1^st. Bed is precious and strictly for the purpose of sleeping these days. Neither do I toast marshmallows, bake potatoes, or roast policemen on it.