Before the Revolution

AUTHOR'S NOTE. Obviously, the Mythical Creatures mentioned below exist solely within the imagination of the main protagonists. The story contains only human to human intercourse yet finding the right category for it was problematic. You may well have your own opinion.

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Strange are the passions that grip a man. Cedric Lennox studied Theology, Philosophy and Classics at Corpus Christi College Oxford. Theology because as the youngest son of a landed family his only career options were the Military or the Church. The thought of fighting anyone, let alone killing them, filled him with horror. His interest in Christian theological matters was lukewarm at best but it fitted well with his study of the Classics as did, to a certain extent, Philosophy.

While Greek and Latin were always a chore to be endured, the myths of Ancient Greece and Rome sent his heart racing. But even more than the exploits of gods and heroes, his great love was mythical beasts.

He was intrigued by them all but Cedric was particularly fascinated by the ability of the writers and artists of old to combine animal with animal and often human with animal to produce fantastic yet believable creatures.

From his earliest boyhood, he had scoured secondhand bookshops looking for old illustrated tomes containing engravings of Gryphon, Harpies, Chimera and the like. By the time that he went up to Oxford, Cedric had emassed a impressive collection.

From then on, the generous allowance from his father permitted him to purchase rarer items from antiquarian booksellers.

That is how Cedric met Phyllida.

Phyllida Boyd too had a desire to study Classics. She had passed the entrance exam for St Hilda's College Oxford. Unfortunately, her parents' financial circumstances changed suddenly and her hopes were dashed.

Phyllida became a librarian instead.

After two years of stamping and handing out Barbara Cartlands, Agatha Christies and Enid Blytons, stamping them back in and replacing them in the correct place on the correct shelf in the correct section, she left the library and got a job in Sanders' Bookshop in High Street, Oxford.

Phyllida thought it the next best thing to a University education. She got to handle rare books on Classical subjects on a daily basis. Mr Sanders, old Mr Sanders that is, very quickly began to value her knowledge of the Ancient World.

Mostly, only grey bearded gentlemen actually purchased the most expensive volumes but there was one young undergraduate who had a taste for and could afford to buy these books.

Cedric Lennox would discuss his potential acquisitions with Phyllida before committing himself. Very soon he came to trust her opinion and she started to hold back items that she really should have put up for general sale. She always gave Cedric 'first refusal' and he rarely failed to take her advice.

Not many months passed before his love of rare books was surpassed by his passion for Phyllida. It may have been her petite figure or her fresh complexion but it could have been her acute mind or subtle wit, yet again there is a chance that he was drawn to Phyllida's short dark curls and thick black rimmed spectacles. What could have had some bearing on the matter was the smart but academic way she dressed. But, if you ask my opinion, I feel that the principal appeal, for Cedric, was the young lady's small but perfectly rounded tits.

Regardless, his weekly visits to Sanders' evolved into twice weekly affairs.

Eventually, Cedric nearly summoned the courage to ask Phyllida if she would care to have lunch with him. Nearly, but not quite.

Fortune intervened when, as the pair were poring over a facsimile copy of a much older illustrated Arabic book called 'On the Usefulness of Animals', old Mr Sanders wandered into the shop.

"Are you two young people a couple, now?" he asked, casually.

"No!" they replied in unison.

"Whyever not?

Before either of them could think of a reason, he went on, "Put that volume under the counter, it will keep it for you. I will mind the shop while you both go around the corner to that new Italian Coffee place.

"Don't come back until you have come to some arrangement."

"But......" was the joint response.

"But me no buts, just go," insisted the old gentleman.

They went.

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The couple saw each other regularly, kissed, held hands, went so far but no further, met each other's parents and when Cedric was ordained and became the Curate at a large church in Devizes in Wiltshire the two of them were engaged to be married.

By 1956, when Pyllida was 26 and Cedric a year older, they wed at her parish church in Oxford.

In the way of a honeymoon the happy couple planned to spend a fortnight hiking in the Lake District.

They travelled up by train and signed the hotel register as 'The Reverend and Mrs Cedric Lennox'.

The first night was everything that Pyllida had hoped it would be. Cedric agreed that the wait had been worth it. Every day they trudged the tracks and byeways around the lakes. Each night they couldn't get enough of each other.

And not just the nights. During one morning, the newlyweds were walking through a wooded glade when they came across a swath of golden daffodils upon a trackside bank.

"Oh look!" cried Pyllida, "How poetic!"

Cedric pulled her into his embrace and as they kissed passionately, she could feel the prominent bulge in his hiking shorts.

"Quickly," said the new wife, as she climbed onto the grassy verge, "take me amongst the daffodils!"

Looking around to reassure himself that they were alone, Cedric folllowed her off the track. By the time that he had caught up, his wife had pulled up her skirt, slipped off her knickers, and was lying legs apart surrounded by gold.

Getting his shorts to half-mast, the obedient husband climbed between her raised knees. After six days of practice, he had no trouble finding his target.

Phyllida gasped as he slipped into her, "Mr Wordsworth would have been horrified."

"Yes, what a limerick he would have written, if indeed he ever wrote such a thing," laughed Cedric, commencing his thrusting.

Lost in nature and mutual ecstasy, the couple did their best to synchronize their movement; Pyllida lifting her hips slightly with each of his downward thrusts.

"Yes!" she cried, as he unloaded into her.

At that moment they became aware of boisterous singing some way down the track that they had arrived by.

".........with a knapsack on my back.

"Val-deri, val-dera........................"

The couple jumped to their feet, adjusted their clothing and made off away from the sound. Cedric and Phyllida were in fits of laughter as they rounded the next bend without being seen.

"That was nearly awkward, old girl."

"Still, we got away with it, didn't we, darling?" she replied.

They walked on a few paces further, when Pyllida said, "On blast, my drawers! I left them on top of the flowers."

Cedric chuckled, "Not to worry, I'm sure you have others."

"No, you don't understand, they were the very expensive powder blue ones that go with this brasserie. I bought them especially for the honeymoon."

"Still, never mind," said her husband, "they were very nice but it can't be helped."

"We will have to go back for them!"

"If you insist," said Cedric, good naturedly, "Let's have a look to see if there is anybody still about. I don't want you to be embarrassed."

"It all sounds quiet now," he whispered, as they cautiously retraced their steps and peered around a large bush.

Several yards away, seated on the same daffodil bank that had witnessed their passion, were a group of six or seven young men all dressed in light olive-green short-sleeved shirts and darker green shorts.

"I recognise those maroon berets and red neckerchiefs, they are senior scouts," said Cedric, rather pleased with himself for remembering.

Phyllida hissed, "Nevermind that, look what they're doing!"

It then became apparent to Cedric that the young men were passing something pale blue between themselves. Each one took a turn to sniff the gusset of his wife's discarded knickers before handing them on.

A few of the scouts had a hand up the leg of their shorts and were pulling on something contained within. As the pants were handed back to a rather tall spotty lad, he got out his penis and started to use Phyllida's undergarment to masturbate himself with.

"Do you still want to go and ask for them back?" enquired Cedric, with a grin.

"No, I don't think that I do," laughed his wife.

They hastily went on with their hike.

That night, as they made love, Cedric reminded Phyllida that one of the scouts probably had a rather novel souvenir from the Lake District.

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Within a year, Cedric was granted his own parish in Wareham in Dorset. His father joked that he would be a Bishop by the time he was thirty. His son casually informed him that he had no ambitions in that area and that he would much rather spend the rest of his life as a country parson. The old man made a telephone call, eighteen months later the couple moved into a handsome vicarage in the idyllic Dorset village of Winterbourne Fitz Hugh.

Phyllida and Cedric were so happy. They spent their days roaming the rural lanes and woods, their nights were devoted to reading and poring over Cedric's rare books; and to each other. Of course, they read newspapers, listened to the wireless and occasionally watched a programme on BBC2 but generally the outside world didn't intrude too much on them.

The Church of St Edward had its origins in the Anglo Saxon period. Fortunately for Cedric, neither the parish or the parishioners were particularly demanding.

A group of village ladies took care of cleaning the interior and arranging flowers. They occasionally alllowed Phyllida to help. With her beautiful singing voice and ability to pick up tunes easily, she was a welcome addition to the choir.

Mathew Blye, a chap in his early sixties, performed the role of Verger. The old man knew the Anglican rituals and services by heart which saved Cedric having to remember too much. On top of this Mathew, being a former stonemason, maintained the church building as if it were his own.

As the years passed, Phyllida was happy that Cedric was happy and Cedric was happy that Pyllida was content.

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"The missus has told me that there are some of them damned Beatniks camped in the meadow behind the churchyard. She says that they've got one of those German campervans, you know the ones with the split windscreen.

"Do you want me to chuck them off, it is church land after all?" blustered Mathew Blye.

"Are they actually causing any damage?" asked the Reverend Lennox.

"Not that I know but Mrs Blye has seen them taking their clothes off and bathing in the river."

Cedric replied, "Well, cleanliness is next to godliness."

"But there are three hairy blokes and a woman, the men are even wearing flowers and beads. It don't seem quite proper. And they've got 'Make Love Not War' plastered on the side of their van."

The Vicar thought for a moment, "I recall reading about these young people in 'The Guardian'. They're what the newspapers are defining as a 'counter-culture'. Yes that's it, I think that they are called 'Flower Children' or 'Hippies' but I think that they refer to themselves as 'The Beautiful People'.

"I remember thinking that their advocacy of Peace and Love is very admirable.

"But I fear that their promotion of 'Free Love' is what is getting them a bad name."

"I don't know anything about free love, I usually have to buy Mrs Blye a new hat or a handbag," laughed the Verger.

"Begging your pardon Vicar," he added, fearing that perhaps he'd gone too far.

"No, no, I appreciate a smutty joke as much as anyone.

"Phyllida is helping with the flowers in the church this morning. I'll just let her know where I am and then I'll go down and have a word with them. I'm interested to hear about their philosophy," said Cedric.

"You go careful then, Vicar, my Ivy said that one of the young blokes is huge."

"Given the declaration on their vehicle, I don't think that I am in any great danger," concluded the clergyman.

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"How did you get on with those young people, dear?" enquired Phyllida, when Cedric came home for his lunch.

"Most illuminating. Their thoughts on non-aggression were so simple. Perhaps too simple but their philosophy was a refreshing alternative to all the warmongering that goes on today.

"Evidently, the four of them are returning from what they call a 'music festival' on the Isle of Wight and are making their way up to Glastonbury. They think that there is a mystical force passing through the place."

His wife sighed, "I'm sorry that I didn't go with you, I would have liked to hear what they had to say."

"Ah, that's good because I've asked them for afternoon tea today. I hope you don't mind."

"I had better get on and bake some scones then, hadn't I?" she smiled.

Her husband added, "Oh, by the way, they are vegetarians."

"Right, so ham sandwiches aren't a good idea then," mused Phyllida.

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Sky proved to be a pixie-faced young woman with a mass of fuzzy ginger hair and a frame that was only slightly smaller than Phyllida's. The Vicar's wife was a little envious of her bust but put that thought to one side because it was a sin.

All three men had the same long hair and beards and were of a similar build to each other. Their demeanors couldn't have been more different though. River held himself with the sort of aristocratic ease that Cedric instantly recognised as being like his brothers' air of entitlement. Forest, on the other hand, was more nervy, quite reminiscent, Cedric thought, of a mountain goat. While Kevin had a kind of sad puppy dog expression.

After a rather conventional exchange of greetings and enquiries regarding everyone's health, Phyllida said, "Sky, my dear, why don't you come and help me with the tea?"

"Oh right, yeh," Sky answered.

While they were waiting for the kettle to boil, Phyllida ascertained who preferred milk and sugar or just lemon.

"So, tell me, which one is your boyfriend?"

Sky laughed. "Whichever one takes my fancy at the time. Sometimes, none of them. Sometimes, all of them," she answered.

"Oh!" said Phyllida, colouring a little.

"How old are you?" Sky asked, boldly.

"I am thirty-eight."

"And how long have you been married to the Vicar?"

"A little over twelve years, why do you ask?"

"Can you honestly say that you haven't wondered what it would be like to have a different cock from time to time," laughed Sky.

Pyllida was a little taken aback but finally said, "Well.................."

"There, why limit yourself?"

To extricate herself from an awkward conversation, Phyllida asked, "Is Sky your real name?"

"No, it's Janice really but that's not particularly cosmic, is it?" responded Sky, smiling gently, realising that perhaps she'd been a bit unkind to her hostess.

What a strange sight it was to see the advocates of 'The Age of Aquarius', dressed in their brightly coloured Indian cotton clothes, hair festooned with flowers, beads and bells around their necks, eating cucumber sandwiches in the front parlour of the 17th century vicarage. Yet somehow the conversation flowed easily. Neither side was judgemental. Everyone showed a genuine interest in the other's thoughts and opinions.

"Yes," enthused Sky, in response to Phyllida's inquiry about the music festival, "Jefferson Airplane were brilliant. And the lead singer of Tyrannosaurus Rex had a charisma about him that was astral.

"What sort of music do you like?"

Phyllida replied, 'Don't laugh, but I quite like Cliff Richard."

"Yes, he was quite big in his day, I remember," said Forest, keeping a straight face with difficulty.

The buttered scones with cream and strawberry jam went down really well, Phyllida had been concerned in case they weren't quite vegetarian enough.

What sort of food can you eat?" enquired the Vicar's wife, believing that the options must be fairly limited.

Sky explained, "Obviously, all sorts of vegetables. Nuts and pulses can be used to add variety. We all eat dairy products because the animals aren't actually killed. Kev occasionally eats fish too.

"I'll tell you what, I've had some Adzuki Beans soaking and I'm planning to make them into burgers, as you've both been so kind, why don't you come down to the van for supper?" offered Sky.

Phyllida responded, joyfully, "Oh, yes please, I've never had a burger."

"What? Not even a Wimpy?" laughed Kevin.

"No, I like to try new things but I don't often get the chance, living in the countryside."

"Then it could be an interesting night," said Forest.

Sky added, "We eat at about eight."

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The heat was just leaving the early September day by the time that Phyllida and Cedric approached the colourful Volkswagen. There was a fire burning in a makeshift hearth with several deckchairs, of varying age and degree of decrepitude, arranged around it.

"Welcome!" said River, handing them both a beaker of cider.

He went on, "You're just in time, Sky will be out with the food shortly. Take a seat, do."

"So glad you came!" beamed Sky as she emerged from the van holding two beaten up enamel plates each of which held a bread roll with something of a reddish-brown hue sandwiched within it. She was followed by Kevin and Forest each holding a further two similar plates.

When they had finished eating, Phyllida said, "That was delicious!"

"Thank you. I bought half a dozen fresh rolls from the village shop this morning, that's what gave me the notion to make burgers. Kev says it's the only thing he misses about being a veggy,"

"It's true," agreed Kevin, "Sky puts cheese and sliced gherkins in them too, just to please me."

Replete, everybody relaxed into their deckchairs. River lit up a rather large cigarette. He took a deep draw on it before passing it to Sky. She did the same before handing it on to Forest. Phyllida couldn't help thinking of the incident from their honeymoon and laughing to herself. She caught a whiff of a strange resin-sweet odour as she thought it a shame that the young people all had to share one cigarette.

When Kevin offered it to Phyllida, she said, "No, thank you, we really don't smoke."

"Fair enough, each to his own," he answered as he rose from his seat and handed it back to River to start its journey again.

Sky came towards them unwrapping a small piece of tin foil. "Try this instead, it's just a little acid," she said. Nestled in the foil were two halves of a sugar cube.

"Do you mean LSD?" asked Cedric.

"Yeh, it's not too strong, it will set your mind free."

Before the Vicar could say, "I don't kno.........." Phyllida had picked up a piece and thrown it into her mouth.

"I want to try it," she said.

Cedric shrugged his shoulders saying, "I have heard that it can produce spiritual revelations, so I suppose it won't really hurt." He took the other piece.

As the light began to fade three or four oil lamps were lit which only added to the conviviality.

River picked his guitar and strummed a few chords. Kevin produced a pair of bongos and gave them some random hard taps. After a while Forest held a set of panpipes to his lips and blew a couple of notes.

As the strumming became more steady, something resembling a tune began to take shape. Voices joined in with a low hum.

Cedric knew it was music but somehow the notes were also starting to produce colours in his mind. Bright vibrant colours. Alongside him, Pyllida had picked up the tune now and was humming it with conviction, she felt the sound deep within her knickers. Cedric was convinced that she was next to him but the sound somehow echoed from the surrounding hills.