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indriI keep getting "Error 500" messages unless I post in shorter chunks. Apologies for the two month hiatus.
SUMMARY: Giles and Ethan, the electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove year, in the early seventies. Rated M. Spoilers to Band Candy. Acknowledgements and disclaimers.
Part 3:
42.
There were five people in Ripper's car and that was at least one person too many, but Ripper wasn't certain who that one person was. It could be Randall, who had shown up for a twenty-four hour trip with a trunk almost larger than the car's boot; it could be Stan, whose luggage was much more compact but which was probably of considerably more interest to the police. Perhaps it was Diedre, who was repeatedly singing all the lines she knew of "Magic Bus" and "Magical Mystery Tour" (three lines each, it turned out) in her admittedly flawless soprano. Or it could well be Ethan, who had spent the trip so far telling them about all the things they would hate about the festival. And it wasn't as if Ripper didn't see enough of them all already, back at the house.
It had all seemed like such a good idea when Randall had described it: music, like-minded people, the mystical experience of dawn at Stonehenge. But it had rained solidly for the previous three days and while the weather had improved today, the site was surely going to a mudbath. Plus, there was the not inconsiderable fact that he was losing half a week's pay from the hotel restaurant, and while Ethan seemed to be able to live off cheese sandwiches, Ripper would certainly prefer a more varied diet.
"Too much, the Magic Bus!"
Now they were crawling through traffic near Andover, flat green fields on either side of them. Many of the vehicles heading in the same direction were elderly rustbuckets, covered with bright paint, or both.
Ethan waved out the window. "Seven hundred combi vans in a field," he said. "That's what this will be."
But, when they finally got a view towards Stonehenge, it looked more like two hundred combi vans and five hundred tents.
"Going to take you away," sang Diedre. "Going to take you away-ay!" She gave the whole thing an operatic trill.
"Where should we park?" Ripper asked.
"Wherever we want," said Ethan. "It's a field."
"The bands usually set up on the left there," said Randall, rather more helpfully. "So it depends on how much talk and sleep we want."
Ripper opted for a middling distance. He parked. Stan and Diedre, who'd sat through the trip with his guitar on their laps, passed it carefully to him. Randall went straight to the boot.
Ripper stood and looked at Stonehenge, which was perhaps half a mile away. He'd never been there before. "Well," he said, "that's really rather remarkable."
"Wait until you see it up close," said Ethan, which was the first positive thing he'd said all day.
Randall had pulled an assortment of bright fabrics out of his trunk. He and Diedre shucked off their travelling clothes down to their knickers (and, no, Diedre, was not wearing a bra) before pulling on their midsummer outfits. Randall wore a patterned purple tunic over white trousers, with a long, sleeveless yellow jacket of a light, fringed material. He had a white leather hat, sort of cowboy style, with a bandana tied around it. Diedre peeled on a skintight top in an eye-watering jade-and-purple harlequin pattern, with a feathered flowing white skirt that was surely going to be covered in mud in about fifteen minutes. She had thigh-high boots and half-a-dozen yellow boas.
Once dressed to their satisfaction, they took a few more things out of the trunk. Diedre picked up a tarpaulin. Randall started with five glasses and a bottle of not-quite-warm champagne.
Stan peered into the trunk. "That's a TARDIS you've got there, is it? Very handy!"
Randall poured everyone a glass. "To midsummer solstice!" he said.
"And a fine waning of the year!" said Diedre.
Everyone took a sip.
"We should pay our respects to the stones next," said Randall.
SUMMARY: Giles and Ethan, the electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove year, in the early seventies. Rated M. Spoilers to Band Candy. Acknowledgements and disclaimers.
Part 3:
An Extraordinary High
42.
There were five people in Ripper's car and that was at least one person too many, but Ripper wasn't certain who that one person was. It could be Randall, who had shown up for a twenty-four hour trip with a trunk almost larger than the car's boot; it could be Stan, whose luggage was much more compact but which was probably of considerably more interest to the police. Perhaps it was Diedre, who was repeatedly singing all the lines she knew of "Magic Bus" and "Magical Mystery Tour" (three lines each, it turned out) in her admittedly flawless soprano. Or it could well be Ethan, who had spent the trip so far telling them about all the things they would hate about the festival. And it wasn't as if Ripper didn't see enough of them all already, back at the house.
It had all seemed like such a good idea when Randall had described it: music, like-minded people, the mystical experience of dawn at Stonehenge. But it had rained solidly for the previous three days and while the weather had improved today, the site was surely going to a mudbath. Plus, there was the not inconsiderable fact that he was losing half a week's pay from the hotel restaurant, and while Ethan seemed to be able to live off cheese sandwiches, Ripper would certainly prefer a more varied diet.
"Too much, the Magic Bus!"
Now they were crawling through traffic near Andover, flat green fields on either side of them. Many of the vehicles heading in the same direction were elderly rustbuckets, covered with bright paint, or both.
Ethan waved out the window. "Seven hundred combi vans in a field," he said. "That's what this will be."
But, when they finally got a view towards Stonehenge, it looked more like two hundred combi vans and five hundred tents.
"Going to take you away," sang Diedre. "Going to take you away-ay!" She gave the whole thing an operatic trill.
"Where should we park?" Ripper asked.
"Wherever we want," said Ethan. "It's a field."
"The bands usually set up on the left there," said Randall, rather more helpfully. "So it depends on how much talk and sleep we want."
Ripper opted for a middling distance. He parked. Stan and Diedre, who'd sat through the trip with his guitar on their laps, passed it carefully to him. Randall went straight to the boot.
Ripper stood and looked at Stonehenge, which was perhaps half a mile away. He'd never been there before. "Well," he said, "that's really rather remarkable."
"Wait until you see it up close," said Ethan, which was the first positive thing he'd said all day.
Randall had pulled an assortment of bright fabrics out of his trunk. He and Diedre shucked off their travelling clothes down to their knickers (and, no, Diedre, was not wearing a bra) before pulling on their midsummer outfits. Randall wore a patterned purple tunic over white trousers, with a long, sleeveless yellow jacket of a light, fringed material. He had a white leather hat, sort of cowboy style, with a bandana tied around it. Diedre peeled on a skintight top in an eye-watering jade-and-purple harlequin pattern, with a feathered flowing white skirt that was surely going to be covered in mud in about fifteen minutes. She had thigh-high boots and half-a-dozen yellow boas.
Once dressed to their satisfaction, they took a few more things out of the trunk. Diedre picked up a tarpaulin. Randall started with five glasses and a bottle of not-quite-warm champagne.
Stan peered into the trunk. "That's a TARDIS you've got there, is it? Very handy!"
Randall poured everyone a glass. "To midsummer solstice!" he said.
"And a fine waning of the year!" said Diedre.
Everyone took a sip.
"We should pay our respects to the stones next," said Randall.
