We were in Turner\u2019s Vaults, by the Albert Dock, when they came in, their gaunt faces staring out vacantly from the hoods of their spacious grey robes. I checked my pocket watch: a quarter to twelve. Plenty of time to find somewhere else, I supposed. Most of the locals already having chosen that option\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018The doors, Kenneth,\u2019 said the tallest of them, in a doleful voice, \u2018The doors.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Jack Dudley, listening intently to Nathaniel \u2018The Professor\u2019 James, who was explaining in some detail how it happened that we were visiting the same Anfield that we\u2019d visited every season, but to see an entirely different team. Jack had got about a half left, and so had Chimdy, but the Professor\u2019s pint was nearly three-quarters full and there was never any point in trying to hurry him up. Resignedly, I watched the last of the exodus: a spindly woman who\u2019d been selling notepads and pencils slipped out just as the landlord bolted the door and turned the deadlock. He returned to the pumps to be welcomed by a flurry of business. The hooded tribe were drinking gin. As I turned to call up another pint of my own, the tall man caught my eye and raised his glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018A nip for the heirs of the Nip in the Air,\u2019 he said, apparently expecting some kind of reaction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018It is a bit chilly, ar,\u2019 I replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You don\u2019t care for the cold?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Same as everybody else, I imagine. Unless there\u2019s a match on, I\u2019d rather have a pint and a warm fire.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Get the man a pint, Kenneth,\u2019 said the tall man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018A celebration. Yes. That\u2019s exactly what it is.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The landlord eyed me with what looked like concern. \u2018He\u2019s not here for\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018A pint of\u2026 Best, I suppose?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Pale,\u2019 I said. \u2018Is this some kind of celebration?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018A celebration. Yes. That\u2019s exactly what it is.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You could have fooled me. Nip after nip of neat gin was served and consumed without laughter, sentiment or even conversation. The mood reminded me of the train ride back from Paddington after losing the Cup final to Preston four years before. Finally, a good seven drinks into his \u201ccelebration\u201d the tall man introduced himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I am the wizard,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh, ar?\u2019 I replied, looking for an alternative to the bolted door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I am naked under these robes.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Right\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018When night falls we shall parade these streets as Ventus intended, offering naked submission to He that Breathes Life and Cools Our Toiling Bodies.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I see, well my friends and I do have to be getting off. There\u2019s a football match\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018When night falls?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018No, mate. How could you play football when night falls?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You cannot leave until night falls. This is now a holy place.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018We won\u2019t make a fuss.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh, I know you won\u2019t,\u2019 said the wizard, turning to order more gin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though it didn\u2019t cheer up, the conversation did, in time, heat up, with the fiery gin stoking the cult fervour. A table in the corner became vacant as its occupants rose to join in the singing of what appeared to be the religion\u2019s only hymn:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Oh great and mighty Ventus\nDear purger of these lands\nWe know your breath is infinite \u2013\nOur lives are in your hands\nYou come across the Irish Sea\nTo witness our submission\nAnd see us lose our earthly robes\nAnd all our inhibitions <\/pre>\n\n\n\nWe took the empty table quickly and put our heads together, knowing our scheming would be camouflaged by the chanting. Chimdy, so often the engineer of our unlikely escapes, had no materials or tools to work with, and was anyway stymied by our location in a bar that was far too public.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ventus, Aquus, Fuegus, Porcus<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Professor had no more formal education than the rest of us, but was a passionate autodidact, a bachelor who spent all the hours that work and Wolves allowed him in the Free Library on Garrick Street. It was to him that we turned now, and without a word he understood, taking out the pencil and pad he\u2019d bought from the spindly old lady and swiftly filling pages, first with disjointed words, then with sketches and diagrams, and then with florid prose. After forty-five minutes and two more rounds, he was ready to divulge his plan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In his notebook, Natty had drawn up detailed plans for a new cult that would seek to absorb Ventism into a larger, more developed cosmology borrowing heavily from Empedocles and the Ayurveda. Within the new religion, Ventus was one of four deities, the others being \u201cFuegus\u201d (Fire), \u201cAquus\u201d (Water, but also beer and gin) and \u201cPorcus\u201d, (the dust at the bottom of a bag of scratchings). Ventus would also be revered as the Grand Harbinger of the True Cosmology, whose essence was a combination of all four deities. This was a clever move, as it sought to co-opt the Ventists with flattery: their devotion to Ventus allowed them to join the new religion as adepts, but it also conditioned their special position upon total submission to the greater theology that their chosen god had presaged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Having thoroughly prepared us in the teachings, The Professor sent us out to the four corners of the pub to convert the population. This was not easy work. Few wanted to hear our preachings to begin with, many turned their backs on us and a few even threatened violence. But with kick-off approaching we knew we had no choice but to stay the course. Chimdy attempted some theatrics to kick-start the new religion, setting Fuegus to a newspaper then dousing it with Aquus (this was not a popular move with Kenneth the landlord). Jack and I had a go at some rudimentary psalm-writing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ventus, Aquus, Fuegus, Porcus\n These are the humours of the sacred corpus\n Wind and Beer and Fire and Dust\n From a packet of scratchings form the Sacred Trust <\/pre>\n\n\n\nConverts and those who appeared open to an expansion of their worldview were sent to our table, where Nate was ready to baptize them with beer and mark their foreheads with cigarette ash. As the number of converts increased, these rites became much wilder, and incorporating screaming, swearing and smashing glasses on the floor. Eventually Nate climbed onto the table, raised his arms in the air and told the assembled, \u201cGo to your houses, put some clothes on, and worship the Great Amalgum from your most comfortable armchair!\u201d This they did. After helping Kenneth clear up a little, and swiftly downing another round, we headed out to Stanley Park to watch the teams share the points as Ventus battered our bodies with his wrathful breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All in all, a good day out, although there were some lasting side-effects: Prophecy proved to be an intoxicating thing for the Professor, and he made a fool and a nuisance of himself in the Wheel Inn and the Gladstone for a few weeks after we got back home. Eventually, though, he calmed down and returned to the Free Library, and his mum immediately took the opportunity to throw his notebook on the Fuegus.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
That famous Empedoclean sense of humours…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":749,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-747","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/747","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=747"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/747\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=747"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=747"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=747"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}