The Witan Files 3.0

Review of The Witan 2023

Friday 25th of August

Ginger Top pulled up in his flash car and got out. His neat vest and buttoned up shirt was the first indicator of the type of event we were headed to. He opened the back door for me to place in my backpack and then opened the front door for me to get in, closing it after me. Such a gentleman.

We zoomed down the highway towards Oxfordshire, discussing the lowering quality of metal due to the current price hikes, and how titanium is strong like steel but light like aluminium.  He informed me his car weighed 3 tons. After some commentary on the late nights of last year's event I wondered if everyone was planning to be more sensible this year. Ginger Top was amused and informed me that groups of drinking men were not inclined in such a direction.

Arriving at the historic looking country house that was our venue, I was dropped off at the door and Ginger Top went to park. In the lobby was a table, and surrounding it were friendly faces. The Sleepless One sat behind the table with the Silent One, who checked a list for my name. He handed me heaps of papers and a lanyard with instructions to write my name on it. With my hands full of luggage I requested his help, and in neat letters he wrote my name. The problem came with the lanyard, as the name cards were too big for the holder. I smudged the neat writing trying to get it in. I then checked in, and had my photograph taken, and then set off through the rabbit warren of a venue for my room. It was located out behind the building in what looked like a prison block, or perhaps some council flats, both of which, as an Australian, made me feel quite at home.

I purchased an overpriced cider. Like seriously, one drink was the price of a carton of four. Like what is this devilry. I went outside to the dudes who were smoking and chatting but the only person I knew was deep in conversation with the most marriageable man known to womankind, so I went back to the lobby to watch people arrive and struggle with their name cards. 

The first event was a book launch, and I went in to observe. The Prophets of Doom by Neema Parvini was the object of our attention and there were many in line to get it signed. After a hard day's work, my back was hurting and I went out to sit in the now nearly empty lobby with the Silent One. He began to bully me into buying a book, and as a strong independent woman I proceeded back into the book launch to buy one. I struggled with the payment details and then got the book signed. Empowerment. 

Everyone filed into the conference room and the Pine Marten welcomed us to the event. Dinner was supposed to be served, but it was decided we were all too fat and did not deserve it, so we proceeded onto the first talk of the event: Can We Fight Entropy by Auron Macintyre. Followed by the Academic Agent talking about Ten Lessons From Cynical History. 

We did end up getting dinner, filing along in buffet style gathering food up onto our plates. After the meal I headed out to put my book, which I had been clutching all evening, into my room. As I fled through the cold along the stone path a big fluffy mongrolian dog appeared before me. His owner, now sadly shorn of his curly hair, brought me over to the longhouse, a couch full of cigar smokers under some kind of tent. I stood talking to him in the gathering dusk till he rushed off to locate his mongrolian. The Archer appeared to introduce me to his friends, and then as some room opened up on the couch I went to sit down, but alas the Pine Marten had got there first, but I did ask to swap seats and he agreed. Chivalry is not dead folks. I was now quite pressed up against an unknown man and so I used my new book to preserve my modesty by jamming it down between our hips. He introduced himself as the Whale and proceeded to annoy me. At one stage he asked what I would do if I had 5 atomic weapons to drop on any place on earth. I suggested his house.

Some more people filtered away from the longhouse and the Pine Marten told us all to move down so he could squish onto the couch. I was now fenced in by men, in a haze of cigar smoke, engaging in intellectual conversation. The night grew later, though it did not seem so, and at last I turned to the Pine Marten to request his permission to go to bed. He gave it and off I trotted, it was about 1:30 in the morning.

Saturday 26th August

I arose, bright eyed and bushy tailed. As I hurried forth for my breakfast, concerned I would be late, I saw the Archer with the Chief Weaver firing arrows across the lawn. Out I hurried, stepping pedantically across the dewy grass in my heels. After a remark upon the impractical nature of my shoes, the Archer instructed me as to how a bow works. My Japanese pulling techniques were disapproved of, and I was instructed to hold the sting to my nose or chin. I chose the former as I don't have much of a chin.

The Archer had chosen to bring his hobby as he knew such a wholesome English activity would be right on par for such an event. All in all he had a dozen or so takers and many interested observers.

I did end up eating something, and then waited on a chair outside the conference room for someone I knew to sit with. The Pine Marten suddenly emerged at breakneck speed from one door and shot across the room towards the door to the conference room. We exchanged greetings as he disappeared from view.

The first speech of the day was What is Entropy by A Walrus followed by Johann Kurtz with Self-Sacrifice. After the lunch break I did some more archery, with a crowd on the edge of the lawn, interested but not feeling bold enough to come out and give it a try. The next speech was Ferro with Tradition As A Shield Against Entropy, I did not hear half of it as upon arriving late, the men gathered outside spoke of the doorway being too full to get to the empty chairs at the front and so I sat outside with the mongrolion and a group of dudes, including a very green Gord. After some time the mongrolian was to be taken for a walk and everyone hurried off, leaving me to sit in the feeble sunlight. I had heels on and could not mince about the grounds. So in time I struggled to the doorway and found a spot. I was offered some chips by a baby goat and later on, on what felt like a 40 mile trip through the interior maze of the venue to the bathrooms, I came upon his troubled countenance as he joined me in the trek. He was unwell, but when I saw him again a while later he was fine and dandy. Strange. He was not the only unwell person at the event. Gord boi had travelled far to attend and was unwell and barely seen the whole time. Such a shame.

Fen De Villers spoke of The Artistic Arms Race. He waved his arms around enthusiastically, which seemed to stand out in everyone's minds. The last speaker of the day was Dave the Distributionist and his speech was What I Saw in the Colonies. He spoke of an idyllic upbringing in England and his travels to Europe as well as life in his native California.

There was a wait before dinner and I went out to the archery. A whole herd of men were out there and I got chatting to an Irish dude. Fortunately his accent was not too strong and we headed into the banquet after the Pine Marten dashed past with an update. Over dinner I may have traumatised the Irishman with intense conversations. The appetiser was green with a lump of cheese or egg in it. 

After dinner was Unpopular Opinions Live, hosted by AA, the Distributionist, Carl Benjamin and Morgoth. There was some pie tasting and then they moved on to other topics, and ended up on reading out some superchats. 

Afterwards, as I once again walked the halls to the bathrooms, I came upon Carl in the hallway proclaiming to some other man that there was a line in the toilets. “Just use the ladies” I suggested as I minced past smugly, as the three other women attending the event were not capable of filling the ladies. He protested that he did not want to get into trouble and hurried off, hopefully finding another bathroom in time.

The Cathedral Social took over the event room with music and I sat outside with a bunch of people in the cold. Cigar smoke bellowed up around me as I  had it explained to me about the concept of the longhouse. I quickly decided that Vikings are more attractive than American indians. Later that night the whale invited me to the longhouse and I entered the territory of the welsh. The Whale asked me if I had watched some Australian movies, there were some Chicken Run quotes shouted by some others and I was told that 83% of people stop drinking before they get warm, as the Whale pressed his homemade damson gin upon me. A toast to something was proclaimed by the Pine Marten and then [Redacted]

Sunday 27th August

Breakfast was identical to the day before. I joined the Archer, the Distributionist and one of the other women at the event. At some point we were joined by the dude who did the video recordings. After learning of his financial struggles to arrange his wedding I suggested he crowdfund it.

I was invited out to do archery and I took up the bow, the six arrows were soon depleted and the Archer told me I needed to go with him to collect arrows. I protested as I minced around a molehill in my heels, but he insisted that he who owns the bow makes the rules. The arrows lay flat under the ground and it was hard to find them. I noticed the Sleepless One sitting out in the sun, staring into the middle distance like he was going through a midlife crisis. I found out later he had not slept at all that night.

Mustachio came by and had a turn on the arrows. I departed to pack my bags and as the cleaning staff could not speak a word of English, I came across the Silent One in the hallway. He took me to the reception to enquire as to the checkout time.

It was then it was time for more speeches. Most people were not up, and the Pine Marten was no exception. There was a delay to the start of the speech as the checkout times were announced and people told to sort that out. The Sleepless One introduced the first speaker of the day: an Elle Laren, not a woman despite the name, and he spoke of Junger, The Anarch. He wore a suit the whole time at the event and then changed into what looked like an edgy Hawaiian shirt to give his speech. After him was Matteo Pellegrino with Leaving for Paraguay ....yeah nah.

I met a man who I had been chatting to on the Basketweavers discord outside of the conference room and we got talking about writing and publishing and related things over lunch. It is good to finally meet people and speak to them face to face.

Constantine Balkwill spoke on Metaphysics, then during the break I ran into the Pine Marten and we discussed the weak coffee that was set up outside the conference room. He rushed off to find a staff member and I rushed to keep up with them as they strode down the halls towards a secret back room. The staff member switched on the machines and off he went, while the Pine Marten and I made coffee. We agreed that it was not good that we only found out about the good coffee at the end of the event. He then rushed off, but couldn’t find the door so I walked with him back to the conference room.

 I then met the Obvious One, who I spoke with about how I ended up at the event, which was interrupted by the next speaker Morgoth, who spoke about The Great Turning Away and his use of the DVD and other simpler technology to stop the forward charging of digital invitations into his life. I got back to continuing the conversation with the obvious one after that speech but my brain was very slow and not functioning. Then was the last speech of the event. Carl Benjamin’s We are Inevitable, and with that the event was over.

The next destination was the city of oxford, many who were not going home that night were to have a meal at a pub in that ancient and famous city. I climbed into the van with the Sleepless One and the mongrolian and off we set down the road. For some reason me and the Sleepless One were discussing who God would save and who he would let die if there was an accident. We arrived in the cheapest car park we could find and then started our multiple mile trek across the city towards the pub, stopping to sit in the sun for abit and drink more alcohol.

The pub was warm and friendly and we had quality food. The atmosphere was chill and relaxed, just what we needed after a long weekend of stiff suits and formal speeches. I drank a lot of water as the events of the night before were getting to me and I felt abit nauseous. That soon passed and I ended up in a discussion over what metaphysics are, the differences between liquid, solid and gas, and purple pomeranians.

I walked to the Sainsburys with a group of people to find breakfast for the next morning. The Pine Marten took control of the shopping basket, while I showed images from Vogue magazine to the chief weaver and the silent one. They insisted the fashions were not on fleek. On the way back to the airBnB, I discussed my beliefs in the Loch Ness monster with the Chief Weaver. 

We sat around talking while a scrabble game took place at the kitchen table. I took up conversation with the Whale and at one point had to lean over the side of the living room balcony to ask the scrabble players if I came across as a lesbian. Someone else joined us and the conversation turned to circumcision. I fled down to join the scrabble players and ended up in a deep discussion with some uni student. People began to trickle away, either to leave and go elsewhere or up the five flights of stairs to the various levels with bedrooms on them.

Next thing it was 3am. Someone was cooking steak and the Pine Marten and I sat discussing whether autistic babies should be aborted and whether the height of the soles of his shoes were an attempt to be taller or not on the couch, while the Sleepless One was sleepless no more beside us. 

At long last it was deemed suitable to depart for bed. Some of us did not realise that others were sleeping on the couch and we began to remove ourselves so they could nap. For some reason the Pine Marten hoisted me off the ground with one arm. Which is impressive. And then we all went to bed. I clambered up to the harem closet at the very top of the house. The attic room that I had to pass through the room of Ginger Top, snuggled in blissful sleep beside the Whale.

Monday 28th of August

I arose before everyone else and paced the kitchen with some mint tea. It was nice for abit of quiet after a ragingly busy weekend with lots of socialising. The next to arrive was Mustachio and we talked about how he grew and groomed his magnificent facial hair. I proceeded to shower and when I got back again lots more people were up. I searched out in the garden with the Sleepless One for a missing ring, and then breakfast was being eaten. I charged about the kitchen cleaning up all the mess and washing dishes. 

We then proceeded with all our luggage down the road towards the museum. Some others had left and the group was down to no more than 10. After getting help to lock my bag in the lockers I strode about the museum with Mustachio. He and I spent about two hours looking at things from all over the world. We fled rooms full of undisciplined children and remarked on the strange head shape of the Egyptians. We were looking at Roman coins and discussing physiognomy when the Pine Marten arrived to tell us that everyone was gathering out the front of the building. We continued to view some stuff for abit before heading downstairs. We were about to head to the lockers when Mustachio noticed an area we had not been in. We contemplated whether or not to see it, then decided we would. We were met by GingerTtop who provided vivid commentary on the nature of the Greek and Roman statues. We came upon a sick outfit in a glass case that suited Ginger Top and then finally we made our way to the lockers and then out into the sun. The plan was then to head on to Tolkien's Pub and off we set across the city.

I had a sausage roll, and tasted the Pine Martens terribly bitter beer before losing to a chess match to him. Ginger Top then appeared and rallied me and the Whale to our feet as he was giving us a lift back. I stopped to get a postcard and we traversed the miles back to the car. The ride home was entertained by Ginger Tops selection of music and I closed my eyes as the impact of the weekend settled over me.  Upon reaching home I got straight into bed.

It is Tuesday the 29th of August. I don't know what day it feels like. My throat is raw and swollen from second hand cigar smoke and I am filled with the satisfaction of attending a quality event and the raging desire to do it again sooner.