Moonrise

The smaller the attendance the bigger the history. There were 12 people at the last supper. Half a dozen at Kitty Hawk. Archimedes was on his own in the bath.

It’s a beautiful day. The sheep is on the spit and roasting by 8. Then it’s time for a hundred little tasks.

Angus decides to do dance music down by the bothy. Owen and I fix the polytunnel. Nick carpets yurt #3 and hangs candles. People start arriving. Cars are parked in the field.

Claire gets back from sailing, having picked up Megan. It’s cocktail hour - some vodka and passion fruit delight. Then, as dusk falls, it’s time to carve the sheep - done to perfection (thanks, Nick).

Dave and Spook have set up projectors on the Warehouse and a polytunnel. It looks spectacular. And the two lighting pros sit away from the fire, lit by the light from their laptops.

People mill from fire to bothy to house. Angus crawls into the office to regroup, while search parties unproductively scour the woodland looking for him. The dance music fades away and the sounds around the fire revert to voice and string and wind.

We raid the “good” gin. Everyone sings. Acts of musical violence are enacted on tambourine and cajon, in supposed support for guitar and mandolin.

The first rain arrives, as foretold, with the dawn.