LONDON: A big yellow moon hangs above a townhouse somewhere in Dorset, in the west of England. Inside, members of the Stag Circle ready themselves for the coming of spring. They drum, they chant, they solemnly drink wine from a chalice.

And then they laugh and joke, brew a pot of tea and pass around a silver bowl filled with Cadbury chocolate fingers. Introducing the world of the 21st century pagan a mixture of the mystical and the mundane.

March 20 was a big day for the druids, witches and shamans and all the others who are proud to call themselves pagans. It was the spring equinox, when there is, more or less, the same amount of light and dark. Many make their way to Stonehenge to greet the rise of the sun and the start of the new season.

These are interesting times for the pagans. They believe their numbers are rising and are working hard to win new rights for their faith. But they face contempt from many of the organised religions and, perhaps worse, mockery from the public.

Which is partly why members of the Stag Circle allowed me a rare glimpse of their inner workings. They want to show they are just ordinary people lawyers, bankers, teachers, IT consultants who believe in paganism.

Our glimpse into this other world began in the hours before the equinox’s dawn at the townhouse we have been asked not to say where because the neighbours do not know what goes on behind the wrought iron gates.

Over the last 30 years a large room at the back of the house has been transformed into the Dolmen Grove Temple. One corner is taken by a Mother Earth figure crowned by an antler headdress, another by an Egyptian mummy, apparently not a real one.

Horns, wands and small cauldrons are carefully laid out on an altar and the room is lit by candles and scented with incense. There used to be a stone circle out in the garden.

The Stag Circle is one of the groups that operates within the Dolmen Grove. Its followers perceive the grove as a “dense forest that stretches over lands and across dimensions”, a sort of spiritual umbrella organisation for groups like the Stag Circle.

Tony, or Taloch (which means invisible mist) to give him his spiritual name, leads the ceremony. For good health, salt and water is dabbed on to members, some in flowing black robes, some in street clothes. The red wine is passed round by Suky, a toast to the end of winter and the start of spring.

The heart of the ceremony over, Taloch asks: “Who is hitting the henge?” They discuss when and where to meet. Someone wonders what the postcode is for the prehistoric monument so she can punch it into her satnav. Taloch “binds” the circle by asking everyone to join hands. “Right, fag break,” he says. “Get the kettle on.” A silver bowl is handed round, filled not with ceremonial paraphernalia but those chocolate fingers. This is not symbolic cannibalism they are just fond of chocolate fingers.

Suky turns out to be the owner of the house, and when she is not taking part in pagan ceremonies she runs an antique business and a trading estate. “We do have what I suppose you’d call ordinary lives as well. And we’re not satanists. We hate them as much as anyone.”

Taloch’s “day jobs” include antique furniture restorer. He says the Dolmen Grove has almost 300 members, mostly from Dorset. The Stag Circle follows beliefs that go back hundreds of years BC. Members rejoice in air, water and fire and worship ancient gods.

It is not that Taloch wants to go back in time. “I don’t want to live in a mud hut – I’d miss my electric guitar.” But he believes his faith still has meaning today.

Groups like the Dolmen Grove are working hard to become accepted as members of a bona fide religion. They claim there are more than a million people in the UK who share pagan beliefs, in one form or another, and there could be up to 60,000 druids. Campaigns include making sure that pagans are properly counted at the next census.

A few hours later at Stonehenge, it is frosty and clear. Members of the Dolmen Grove, including the Stag Circle, gather round its standard, carried by Steve, the circle’s in-house tattooist.

Now sporting an antler headdress and banging a drum mightily, Taloch leads the group around the stones as the sun rises at 6.09am. But it is not all sweetness and light. Taloch is not happy at a protest by a character called King Arthur Pendragon, who claims to be an incarnation of King Arthur.

On special days like the spring equinox English Heritage (the custodian of Stonehenge) allows visitors right up to the stones, but for the rest of the year they are kept away. Pendragon protests by staying on the other side of the fence. “I think it’s a load of bollocks,” says Taloch. He believes greater access will lead to the stones being damaged. Such rifts do not help the cause of the pagans as they seek more credibility.

Then it’s back to the Stonehenge cafe for bacon sandwiches and coffee. Another druid, Frank, a director of an IT company in his other life, explains how eventually the druids would like to manage Stonehenge, but for now do not have the organisation to do so and must rely on English Heritage. Terry, the Archdruid of Avebury (nearby site of another stone circle), pops over to point out that, actually, the equinox happened on Monday. The modern calendar confuses it all.

And, one by one, everyone goes back to their office or the classroom or, if they are lucky, bed.—Dawn/The Guardian News Service