*

…The weather is being unkind again.

There are other reasons this time, however, for our sense of anticipation for the first of the Glastonbury talks being perhaps less enthusiastic than it might be. The intrusion of Christmas left little enough time for promotion of the event and then a last minute revision in the form of the talk has added further uncertainty. Morgana appears to have gone missing and Ben too seems to be less than his usual communicatory self. Doubtless he will currently be stranded in Motorway Hell somewhere in the middle of the country. Still, we are back at ‘The George’, which is no bad thing, and have just tucked in to an incredibly easy to demolish dish of braised-pork with apple and cream sauce. The Preceptor from the Templar arras eyes me in a somewhat accusatory fashion and I take to wondering which texts he would have used to bolster the faith of the ‘faithful’ during their long crusades…

*

…I see you.

I called, and you have come.

The time is now.

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