We gathered in the grounds of our chapel at 10pm for the ceremony of St John.I'm not a theological expert but the main point is, you light a whacking great bonfire and you jump over it. Apparently St John is known for pointing the moral finger, and once you have identified your annual tally of errors, you jump over the fire to purify yourself and you jump right into summer hooray!
The last housemartins winged their way home, the darkness deepened. A pair of bats darted in, flip-flapped in spirals above the fire, and darted off.
This snap of the fire looks like a dragon - one millisecond later, it has transformed itself into a tall thin flare.
B thinks he can do it.
R knows he can do it.
I decide not to do it, I'm not sure I can still jump, I'll probably stumble, nobody will notice if I don't, I would prefer to take photos, what does it matter? I'll leave it to the others...and here JC catches me on camera at the very moment I decide to stop wittering and just do it. (I should point out that a peculiar fluke of perspective has made me look broad of beam which I am not, of course).
Our pasteur reminds the children that they can only jump ONCE, as they criss-cross past each other and leap and leap again. He makes cutting comments about it being strange that the YOUNGEST amongs us who have had so few years in which to err seem to be the ones who need the most purifying - remarks which go right over their heads...as they jump over the fire, again and again.
'My lawn, my lawn' says the Pasteur, as the children toss extra logs onto the fire with limited accuracy.
Finally we realise that the reason he wants everyone to stop jumping is to let those who have not yet plucked up the courage have a go. The person who wanted to do this was in fact him:
Yes, the prize goes to our Pasteur Marc!
In a picture is entitled 'Marc D'Arc' , the little smile on his lips shows us that martyrdom can be fun.Home after midnight yet again, school tomorrow.
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