I'm not sure if Bernie is technically as solitary as he claims.
Last night he claimed he was going on a "late night pilgrimage", and took the spare key with him. Around midnight I heard voices outside - taking Daddy's old shotgun, I looked out of the front door to see Bernie and shadowy forms, whose voices suggested they may have been Young Keith, Marston Moretaine, and Hnaef. As far as I can make out, they were saluting the moon. The chanting appeared slurred, but I think it may have been "Linger-land, Linger-Land, Linger-Land" - perhaps a reference to the life of the Land ebbing away into the autumn time?
They seemed to close their ceremony with the old spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" - appropriate for a service of compline, I thought - although the noises I heard shortly afterwards may well have been primal screams.
This morning there were mysterious piles of sawdust on the croquet lawn, and Bernie appears to have had a very severe headache and an aversion to loud noises all day. I hope that he doesn't suffer from migraines.