Manolo says, yes, it is again Monday morning and you are back at your desk, once more in thrall to The Man.

But in your heart you are Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, and you long to run through your sacred oak groves, bow and arrow in hand, and beautiful golden shoes named in your honor upon your graceful feets.

It is August, the month when your votaries celebrate your feast by setting up shrines in the forest, adorning their hunting dogs with wreaths, and feasting on wine and cakes served on green-wood trays. What better way to render sacrifice to you for the natural bounty of the season?