Imagine, if you will, an ancient version of "Archie and Edith", gruff conservative and sometimes whiney wench. Give them a bit of an Irish brogue and a typically Irish taste for anything with alcohol in it. There you have it… Gobby and Biddy. Both are pretty well resigned to the sedentary life style of the aging (and somewhat neglected) Celtic deities. Here then, is a bit of their conversation from last evening, and the night before that and the night before that….

Gobby used to be known as Goibniu the Smith, patron of metalworkers, brewers and drinkers throughout the Celtic world. Biddy is the former Brighid Bright Arrow, also goddess to the same crowd. Both are members of the Tuatha de Danann, or the people of Danu. These are the Faerie Folk who were eventually vanquished and then deified by those whom we call the Modern Celts… the many sons of the mighty Milesius and their extended families.

The scene is the fireside of a modest cottage, somewhere in The Otherlands. What? You’ve never heard of The Otherlands? Well, that’s a place of perpetual mists and shadows (partly cloudy after noon), where the defunct deities of Celtia hang out.

Biddy: "Gaw-beeee? How come ye never take me anyplace anymore? Huh, Gaw-beeee?"

Gobby: "Awww, fer cryin’ out loud, Biddy. Are ye gonna start that again? If ya are, I’m goin’ down tae the pub fer a pint!"

Biddy: "Gaw-beee? Not again tonight! Ye’ve gone off an’ left me sittin’ here with my knittin’ most every night since last Samhain. I got a whole hamper full o’ wool socks an’ another of wool scarves. Can’t ya just stay home one night? Pul-leeze?"

Gobby: "Awww… arright! Fetch me another mug o’ mead."

Biddy: "Gaw-beee? I canna do that. The bees ‘ave quit makin’ honey for the winter an’ they ain’t started up again. ‘Til they do, I canna be makin’ any more mead. We gotta make this batch last ‘til Beltaine."

Gobby: "What? Ya mean… all I get is one measley mug o’ mead? Fer cryin’ out loud, Biddy! Is this what it’s come down to? Gods havin’ ta ration their mead? Jus’ like we was PLAIN folks? Awww… I’m goin’ fer a pint. Or maybe two, if I’m feelin’ like it!"

He gets up, walks out, and slams the door as he leaves. Biddy’s needles resume their rhythmic "tic-tic…tic-tic…tic-tic………"