Alex Tenchoy - Martyn and amusing astrology. We become what we think

© Alex Tenchoy, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4485-9409-0

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

When I was in the U.K. at Martуn’s home for a holiday, Martyn took me sightseeing, as a good host should. We went to Stonehenge in Martyn’s car.

There, a guide told us the history of Stonehenge. He said that the Druids built it in such a way that they could, by counting, define on which days the summer and winter solstices were to occur. It helped them in farming. We liked the atmosphere and the environment there, so we decided to go there once again at night. We stayed in a nearby hotel especially for that purpose. At midnight, we arrived at Stonehenge and began to imagine how the ancient Druids would have prayed there. It was a beautiful full moon night.

Just then a real horror began! First of all, some large flying bodies that looked like flying witches darkened the moon. I regretted coming there and the fact that I didn’t ask the guide when the nearest witch’s Sabbath was going to happen. Those black shadows came noiselessly and circled in front of us. Then we could see they were only big bats! We laughed at our cowardice until we saw that a strange procession was coming slowly toward us from behind Stonehenge. There were a dozen figures. Each one wore a long white robe and a hood that covered his head. They might have been the spirits of dead astronomers and it was incredible to see black holes inside their hoods! We could do only one thing-hide. The ghostly Druids stood in the center of the stone circle and began to perform incomprehensible rituals.

We held our breath while watching such strange things. But at that moment I dropped my torch and it started rolling on the ground making a loud noise. Those ghostly Druids quickly caught us and tied us to a rock. As they surrounded us with dry firewood, we had no doubt about their plans. When some of them came up to us with fire, I saw all my life passing before my eyes like a movie. I prayed for a painless death. Next I heard an inhuman scream, which pierced my skull, and suddenly I realized that it was I who had produced it. Only the silent night answered. Yet the stone-giants were watching it all from their massive heights.

The Druid leader wanted to make the killing official, so before lighting the fire, he asked our names and birthplaces in an ancient language, which was difficult to understand. We answered with hesitation. I didn’t seem to attract much of their attention, but the fact that Martyn was from Wales excited that ghostly crow. Next, the head Druid asked Martyn his family name. “Oakey”, he answered and an emotional storm surged through the crowd upon finding out that Martyn was a part of their sacred clan. Then the leader restored silence by waving a sleeve of his robe and said, “Everyone who sees this secret ritual must die, even if he is a descendant of our sacred clan”. Martyn very quietly asked,“Please let us know what we have seen because after all, you are going to kill us and it won’t harm anybody if we would know”. The leader answered, “Every two months, we astronomers, Welshmen’s spirits from ancient times, gather here as we did when we were alive, to define the dates for the lunar and solar eclipses. This great accomplishment gives us a true forecasters authority!” Martyn was surprised, saying, “Why? Everybody knows how to find the dates of eclipses for this decade, even children”. The leader got angry, and said, “You brazen liar”, and then he added, “Fine, then let him try to tell us the dates for the nearest solar and lunar eclipses and then we will compare them with our readings”.

I realized that we were in a dangerous situation because although we could find the date for the nearest eclipse in any almanac in the daytime, being there in Stonehenge in the middle of the night without having any almanac with us, had us trapped. “If you want to hear our predictions, you must untie my hands,” said Martyn. They weren’t too enthusiastic about doing that, but reluctantly they cut the old ropes from Martyn’s wrists. Then Martyn pulled out of his pocket a daily almanac for amateurs, which he had put there by chance, when we were at our hotel. How could I have forgotten about it? Martyn leafed through it and told them the times of the next solar and lunar eclipses. The oldest person among them was hunch-backed and short. He began to count by looking at knots in a rope, which was tied to his belt. “Both dates are right!” he said. They all cried out in surprise and distress. They were overcome by sadness. “If it’s not a secret anymore, there is no need for us to remain its keepers,” the leader said and disappeared in the night sky like a rainbow. The others followed him.

As for us, we didn’t need much time to leave that mysterious place. After this happened, Martyn wrote a scientific dissertation on the founders of Stonehenge and their purpose for building it. He passed his doctorate in history and pale-astronomy and won the prestigious Longman/History Today prize “For an outstanding first book by a scholar in the field of history”. Indisputably, his sacred clan’s spirits were very happy for his luck and certainly, so were I!

Many different things happen in our lives, sometimes very funny. One of these things happened in a small town in Holland. The town’s residents really liked their fresh soft cheese. A factory made it but two different farms supplied the milk. They had the same number of excellent Dutch cows with creamy milk. These competing farms agreed that the one that produced more milk each day had better cows, so that farm would supply the milk for the cheese, or that the farmer’s name would be put on the cheese’s packing.

The whole town became divided into parts; every one preferred one or other farm’s cheese. If the favorite cheese had been selling, its fans were happy and gloated over other farm’s cheese. Sometimes some married couples supported different groups. Life in the town came to revolve around the cheese. The most important news in the morning was which cheese had been sold. The town had the highest consumption of cheese in the world and had more cheese shops than any other town. The cheese became renowned throughout the world. Everything was fine until one of the farms suggested the rules to be changed. The cheese was to be made from the milk of the farm, which produced less milk. The other farm agreed. What do you think happened the next morning? Not even one piece of fresh cheese appeared in the town’s shops. The cheese factory stopped working because fresh milk never came in. The farms produced not even one glass of milk; the cows got sick, as they were not milked. The town was gripped by panic and people lost their living and became unemployed, and came out into the streets protesting and demanding that the local authorities find a way out of the crisis. The town’s Mayor put pressure on the owners of the farms, but he was not successful and was so ashamed that he had to resign. Neither persuasion nor orders could make the obstinate farm-owners change their minds. The owners were adamant in their convictions that the cows of their opponents were better and that they would not give up their positions.