At the pub, where we met, the leader of the group was wearing a witch’s hat. Another guy seemed to be dressed as a pirate. Either he was misled, or a retard. The “moot” (that’s what druids call having a few shandies) consisted of me sitting through an hour while they prattled about internet connections and one woman’s efforts to baby-proof her kitchen.

The next night i arrived at the pub and was ferried in a Land Rover to the woods nearby. We walked into the near pitch darkness of an old hill fort and took position around a metal picnic table, or “altar.” Then the rite began. I hadn’t told anyone that I worked for a
magazine, so I had to take photos secretly without flash, which is why they look so shitty.

They placed lanterns at the four compass points and we formed a circle around the “altar.” The Ring’s leader then “sealed” the circle by wandering around it while talking about forest spirits. One big problem was that I’d hoped the voice of a pagan ritual leader would be less Pat Butcher, more Christopher Lee. It sounds snobbish, but that really fucked with my efforts to get into the mood.

With the ritual nearly over we all moved away from the altar to a pre-dug pit in an even darker corner of the picnic site. We stood around this gravely hole and listened to another speech about reverence for the forest before the apple halves were dumped into the pit. Then it was time to fill the pit. The dude shoveling the dirt was wearing one of those puffy shirts that lace up at the chest—like the old Man U shirts from the 90s.

Anyway, that is what druids do. It’s pretty boring, like a slightly occult PTA meeting. Cool bread though…

BRUNO