So, back to the story. It's not a big one but it has stuck in my mind all of these years like a possum in a croquet wicket.
One of the bookends, the shorter rounder one, I surely cannot remember his name, about 6'3.5" weighing in @ 18 stone, was around the nightly white man's fire with 6 or 7 others. Buzzes were aplenty, also as usual, and some music played. Guitar, some eefing or body percussion, bamboo shakahatchi and voices. Things were winding down to a mellowness when our book took center. He started dancing around the fire like a wounded bear, thumping , staggering with a little grace thrown in; when he decided that he needed a partner. I guess he hadn't gotten laid in a while. Seeing that the only women in attendance were either clearly gay or obviously involved he decided on some firey branched stick almost as tall as himself that was, yes, in the fire. I thought that he was going to cath afire himself as he began singing loudly "Oh wishing stick, wishing stick, my stick, my wish, my wishin' stick....." and began the rythmic horizontal dance of a madman. The show lasted for 15 or 20 minutes. Of course we applauded and helped to create the soundscape, having a merry time watching as he moved a little more beyond the norm, ironically joining with the majority of his fellow hoedadders.