Packed Lunch to Share! A highlight from the Goddess Conference in Glastonbury


As I mentioned on Saturday night, Lady Somerset is up for the weekend.  She has resided in Glastonbury for the past 22 years and has seen many things.  Monday 26th July sees the onset of the 15th Goddess Conference in Glastonbury which, including all the fringe events, lasts for nearly a week.

The Goddess Conference was set up initially for women and men to celebrate female spirituality, and to be a forum for women to showcase their artwork and creativity.  All fine so far.  In more recent times, the conference has become more extreme and limited in nature.  When Lady Somerset arrived on Friday, she could not wait to show me a leaflet that she’d brought with her, that had completely shocked her (usually unshockable) sensibilities.  She also couldn’t stop giggling, which is always a bad sign, as she pulled the leaflet (pictured) from her bag.

Just in case you can’t read the leaflet, although you can probably enlarge it, this is the gist of what is going to happen in this workshop.

“An offering of deep healing of our feminine bodies, this ritual experience begins with a morning of breath work and movement to open out bodies and being-ness into a space of receptivity.  We will use this sacred dance to claim the power inherent in our womb-spaces.  Spiralling deeper together we will nourish out bodies with a shared lunch, before moving into the afternoon’s healing ritual.  Holding the feminine power we have accessed through dance, we will then provide an opportunity for deep healing for each other through yoni massage.  Yoni is a Sanskrit word meaning sacred space or source. This tantric healing technique holds the capacity to heal trauma, held in the tissues of the yoni, help access orgasm for women who do not reach orgasm, and heightened pleasure states for women who would like to experience their orgasmic capacity more deeply.  The touch of sacred massage can support you on your path to reconnect with your deep self as woman and rediscover your body’s sparkling life energy, honouring the feminine in a state of being rather than doing.  This idea is to explore our bodies so they can open in a flow of feeling, experience whatever arises in each moment.  Enter this ritual prepared to receive and explore your own body, and to serve as a priestess in giving to another woman.
* Please bring your own sheet and lubricant and a packed lunch to share.  Wear comfortable clothing in which you feel beautiful and can move freely.”


I have been to many workshops in my lifetime and I can honestly say these things have never been on my kit list.  And who exactly will be going to this workshop?  I don’t see any age limit specified either which could be construed as being somewhat unethical.  The way I see it, these women are being asked to pay fifty quid to touch each other up (with or without a packed lunch) under the pretext of ‘healing’.  Assuming that the participants may have chosen this course because they have suffered some kind of emotional or physical trauma, is this really an appropriate forum for dealing with it?

I would have to leave the first two items on the kit list to the participant’s own discretion, but in my capacity as a Wartime Housewife and with the benefit of the advice of Lady Somerset, we came up with a few suggestions for the packed lunch.

     Fish Paste Sandwiches
     A banana (as oranges are not the only fruit)
     A Mars Bar (no further explanation needed I think)
     A bottle of gin (my God you’d need it)
     A packet of Wet Wipes
I will offer a free, exclusive and not yet on sale Wartime Housewife mug to anyone who can infiltrate this workshop and give me a full and detailed report on proceedings.

One gauntlet, thrown down.


Filed under Behaviour and Etiquette, Indoor Activities, Leisure

12 responses to “Packed Lunch to Share! A highlight from the Goddess Conference in Glastonbury

  1. Affer

    Years since, a lass in our ‘gang’ tired of the jokes associated with her name, Yvonne (“is your name Yvonne? Well, ‘eave on this!”). Without a trace of irony, she announced that henceforth she wished to be known as Yoni.
    I used to live near Glastonbury, and there was a time of year when the street were full of wimmin wearing dungarees and Birkenstocks….

    • wartimehousewife

      Morning Affer. I contemplated moving down there myself at one time, but I just couldn’t cope with all the disaffected middle class kids pretending to be hippies, or indeed the really grungy ones who lived in benders in the woods. The wierd thing is, that over the past 20 odd years, you’d swear they were all the same people, milling about and spending their dole money on magic wands – it never seems to change.

      I knew lots of people who changed their names to something mystical, often because their spirit guide had allegedly told them to. It reminds me of ‘Robin Hood Men in Tights’ when King John is talking Latrine, the witch, and he asks her how she came by such a name. She proudly tells him that her family had changed it to Latrine in the 9th century. Bemused, the King says “You changed it TO Latrine! Why?” She answers proudly, “It used to be Shithouse”. The King nods, “That’s a good change”.

    • KYLA

      I look forward to receiving my free mug!

      Incidentally, you might conceivably be asked to bring your own lube if you were doing a motor mechanics workshop….

  2. Sue

    Oh lord, it’s the fish paste sandwiches that are cracking me up! Thank you for such an entertaining and useful blog Wartime Housewife.

    • wartimehousewife

      Welcome Sue. I know, some things are beyond belief. Still, each to their own! Thank you for your kind comment and I hope you keep reading.

  3. I’m going to send the leaflet to Pseud’s Corner in Private Eye. And spend the tenner on wet wipes. (Don’t ask.)

  4. Jon Dudley

    Fabulous post! In all particulars! I am offering my services as ‘assistant’ at these ‘healing sessions’, I’ll take the rough with the smooth.

    Glastonbury is one of those places isn’t it? We were visiting friends out on the Somerset levels and dropped into Glastonbury on the way home. We nipped into a café and joined the queue. The wizard (I kid you not) in front of us was most put out out when they didn’t have any Diet Coke, spun on his sandals and flounced out, cloak, staff and hessian garments flying…good job he wasn’t attired like Eric Gill, thought I.

    • wartimehousewife

      Oh Jon, it’s so kind of you to offer to help out, as I’m sure you would be a tremendous asset to the group. Sadly, it’s wimmin only and, short of donning a wig and a a flowery frock, I fear you would not be welcome. Eric Gill might well fit in though (apologies), as wasn’t he rather keen on touching up his daughters?

  5. Jon Dudley

    Oh, do you think I’d not be welcome? Never mind. Even so, I’m not so sure as I feel the disguise might be more of the bib and brace overall variety…

    Yes, strange cove that Mr.Gill — according to Fiona Macarthur, his biographer, not even the family dog was safe from his amorous attentions. But enough of this unpleasantness, let’s get back to marmalade.

  6. Pingback: Stolen Muffins « Wartime Housewife

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