Sunday, 10 December 2017

What to do on a Sunday?

So what do you do on a Winter Sunday morning when it is minus 4° (yay! just found the degree symbol°°°)
     Go to North Cave Boot Sale!
     I love a Boot Sale. You never know what treasures you might find.
     Even, as today, when I am sitting in the car, waiting for Graham to search the stalls, I still find the anticipation exciting.
     There is always a mental list of things to look out for: books (always books!), jigsaw puzzles for me, stoneware bottles, glass jewellery. But there are always the unexpected surprises - some cutup pieces of yellow plastic necklace, which turn out to be amber beads, a Chinese box full of ginseng, a pair of Goth Boots which have been to a 'Cure' gig.
     Today I am actually parked close enough to see what is on some of the stalls, and the outstanding object is a red wooden front door, complete with door knocker.
     Hang on, Graham is back! Much sooner than expected.
     He said there are less stalls than usual, perhaps the forecast threatening snow has kept sellers away. But he is very proud of himself as he is bearing the buy of the day - a HUGE bunch of Mistletoe, covered in berries.
     He is even more proud of himself because he has 'haggled' for this purchase.
     There are actually 3 smaller bunches priced at £2 a bunch, and Graham offered £5 for three bunches and it was accepted!

Now, that is what I call a bunch of Mistletoe!

Friday, 3 November 2017

So What Night is Full Moon?

On our Facebook page today I made a note that the Moon will be Full tomorrow morning, but that many groups will be holding their Full Moon Ceremony (and possibly Samhain too) tonight.
     In our last Newsletter we had an article which discussed this topic, answering the question: 'Is there a difference between astrological New Moon and Magical New Moon'. So I will use an extract from that article here:

     Our ancestors were not as fixated on precise timing as we in the modern world. Originally the only clock in a village would be the one on the church tower, and when these were first installed they only had one hand, to indicate the nearest hour. Chiming clocks strike the quarter hours because that was the most precise any country person wanted to be.
     ... When you observe the Moon regularly, you will see that its shape changes a little each night, but like a very slow flicker book, the changes are so slight, it is difficult to tell the difference from one evening to the next. So when you look at the Full Moon, in practise there are three nights (usually) when the Moon appears to be Full.
     The same thing happens around New Moon, but here we have an added dimension to the tale: the astrological moment of the New Moon falls in the middle of what we know magically as the Dark of the Moon.
     The Dark of the Moon is that time when there seems to be no Moon in the sky, the Moon vanishes all together, so in magical terms the New Moon does not occur until the thinnest sliver of the Waxing Moon can be observed in the sky. This is usually a couple of nights after the Astrological New Moon.
     This also explains why sometimes there are said to be four faces of the Goddess: The New, Waxing Moon is the Maiden, the Full Moon is the Bright Mother, the Waning Moon is the Crone, and the Dark of the Moon belongs to the Dark Mother.
     What this boils down to is that we actually have a little more leeway than it would appear to hold our Full Moon ritual. We can hold it on any of the three nights around the time of the Full Moon, which means we can find a time most convenient for our purposes.

Monday, 30 October 2017

A Country Halloween Remembered

Here is an extract from one of the articles in the Samhain issue of the Raven Newsletter, I hope you enjoy it:

Halloween has always been my favourite time of year. I can remember looking forward to this magical night from being a very young child.
     The idea that Witches might be out and about was never scary to me. I never found the wickedest of Witches in any way frightening. I remember watching the Disney film 'Snow White' as a child and finding the wicked stepmother Witch a fascinating creature. Seeing her brewing potions, speaking to a magic mirror and shape-shifting to alter her appearance, was wonderful, and merely made me eager to find out how to do those things for myself.
     The idea of ghosts and spirits being free to roam was exciting and gave me a delicious shivery feeling. I read ghost stories and folk tales from a very young age, and my mother was also a fund of folklore, spells and invocations (although she would not have considered them as such).
     I longed to find a great black dog, with eyes the size of saucers accompanying me along the dark country roads. Black Shuck was welcome any time.
     When I was young there was no 'Trick or Treat'ing. That American import did not arrive for many years.
     There was also no street lighting in most villages, it was found only in built up areas. So the walk home from school in Winter, and sometimes to school in the mornings, was done in the dark. The only light was from behind the drawn curtains of the houses I walked past, or from the windows of the two village shops and the Red Lion pub. It was a quiet walk home too, apart from the odd passing car.
     We saw the Moon every night, so we didn't have to wonder what the phase of the Moon was. And if you were ever unsure, then every calendar and pocket diary told you the Full, Half and New Moons.
     My mum would always remind us when the Moon was New, to go outside and turn our money over, 'And mind you don't see the Moon through glass!' she would warn us, so that we kept our eyes to the ground until we were safely outside.
     At Halloween one year I decided I wanted to make a lantern, but pumpkins were unknown in our part of the country. The only option was a swede. Having made many pumpkin lanterns since, I can tell you there is a whole heap of difference cutting the lid off a pumpkin and scooping the inside out, and trying to do the same thing to a swede!
     I struggled for hours to make any kind of impression. I had to use a knife - I bent a spoon trying with that. Eventually I ended up with a sort of depression in the top of the swede, and my mother gave me a candle to stick in it. It looked nothing like I had imagined, and nothing like the pictures of pumpkin lanterns. I hadn't managed to get enough of the inside out to be able to make any sort of a face for the candle light to shine out of. But at least I felt I had made the effort.

Friday, 20 October 2017

New Notebook

I really like a nice notebook.
     And starting a new one, is to open the door on a whole new set of adventures.
     Today I started a new notebook. This one is ring bound with nice mottled pink, hard board covers. This actually happens more often than you might imagine. Not because I am such a prolific writer that I rapidly fill my current book and have to find a new one, but because, like my glasses, I tend to carry them about and put them down in odd places.
     There are some places which are more likely to accumulate them, rather in the same way as drifts of pairs of glasses accumulate, small hills of notebooks begin to grow. Usually by my work pc and my game computer.
     I like to have a notebook to hand, so that if some idea strikes I can write it down straight away. And I usually take a notebook with me when we go shopping. That way, while Graham is trundling around the shop with his list and shopping trolley, I can sit in the car and write - this piece was started in Aldi's car park, by the way.
     What is supposed to happen is that when we get home I will transfer my notes, or article to the appropriate computer - stuff for my blog will go on the game pc, articles for the Raven Newsletter will be typed up on my work pc - then the notebook will be returned downstairs, ready for the next bout of inspiration to strike.
     What is more likely to happen though, is that I forget to take the notebook downstairs, and pop it on top of the growing pile of notebooks near the pc, all of which are theoretically heading downstairs.
     So when we are ready to go out, I suddenly find that THERE IS NO NOTEBOOK to hand.
     But DON'T PANIC I have a little stock of yet-to-be-written-in notebooks on one of the bookshelves downstairs.
     So I get a new one.

Just a few of the notebooks currently in use.

Monday, 16 October 2017


Graham has decided to have a sort out of the bookshelf near his computer in the bedroom. He has been emptying the shelves, sorting what he wants to keep and what he is happy to part with.
     As he has been doing this he came across a book 'The Diary of a Farmer's Wife 1796-1797'
     This book was originally a series published in the Farmer's Weekly in the 1930's. It is possibly based on an old family diary, but appears to have been stretched or filled out by the addition of old family recipes by the lady who submitted it for publication.
     It is a charming book, the diary written by Anne Hughes - the farmer's wife - basically recording the day to day happenings in and around the farm and its inhabitants. Anne writes as she would have spoken, with her own idiosyncratic spellings: potatoes are always 'pertaties', and she is always 'verrie bussie'. She records the trivial details of housekeeping, scrubbing the floors, caring for the animals and cooking meals, as well as the local gossip and celebrations.
     I have never really kept a diary as I've always thought that most days there isn't a lot to write about. Although I suppose my working day is a bit different to most. And it did get me thinking about what I would write if I kept a diary - my blog is the nearest I get to this, although I would say it is nearer to a Commonplace Book.
     I do often get people ringing up for advice, or to tell me about some strange happening, as well as to place orders.
     This last week a gentleman told me how he had used the Ouija Board 'and Beelzebub came through'. He then commented that I didn't seem very impressed by this - by which I can only assume that the object of telling me this was to impress me.
     The gentleman has been a customer of ours for some years, and had previously asked me to help him as he was making no magical progress, 'Nothing works' he said, which I was intrigued by as usually even the beginners at magic will get some sort of result with their spells (maybe not what they wanted or expected, but certainly some sort of response).
     So I wrote to him making various suggestions, which he took offence at, as I had written basic advice. But as I had not trained him, I did not know what he had any experience of, plus you need to make sure you get the basics in place before you can make progress in any field.
     Since then he has told me that actually he has certain spells which always work, such as a spell to find a parking space, and of course the apparent conjuration of Beelzebub.
     But what this gentleman means by 'Nothing works' is that he wants two things: a big win on the lottery, and to conjure a spirit, any spirit, to full physical manifestation.
     He has said that he doesn't need the money, he is quite comfortably off, but he just wants to prove that it can be done. He then asked me if I could send him a spirit. I said 'No.' which again didn't go down well.
     I told him that the spirits will help us with what we need. He said he knew that, someone else had already told him that. So I think this gentleman is doomed to disappointment.
     The spirits are always happy to help us, but they do not like greed, or being taken advantage of.
     A bit like most of us really.

Monday, 9 October 2017

Mist Magic

     It is easy to appreciate the beauty of an Autumn day, when the gentle sun is shining on the colourful leaves of the trees, or the grass is crisp underfoot with a dusting of frost. When the morning is drear and misty with a fine drizzle which seems light, but soaks into and through your clothes in no time, there is little beauty to be seen, and it is harder to appreciate the day.
     But actually it is these days, the dreary, misty days, when the dark magic is starting stir.
     Mist and fog are almost the embodiment of that rising magical current. Things look different through the mist. Colours and sounds are muted and familiar places can take on a different shape and character.
     The thicker the mist or fog grows, the more cautious you become, even walking a well known route. Was that lamp post always there? Why does this garden hedge seem to go on forever?
     Walking through the countryside it is easy to understand how we could step through into an alternate world without realising - or creatures from other worlds could slip into ours.
     I have seen strange manifestations of mist while growing up in the country.
     One of the fields behind our cottage was small and enclosed with high hedges and a small pond. On rare occasions it would fill with dense mist that stayed at knee height, rising gradually at the hedges.
     You could lie on the ground and be totally hidden from anyone only a few feet away.
     I have also seen mist confined to dips and hollows in the landscape, and some nights mist that looked like puffy wisps of cloud, hanging around head height. The ground and road beneath them would be totally clear, but if your headlights shone up at all, the light reflected off these strange and spooky misty clouds.
     Fairy encounters are often associated with mists and fog, and one of the horror movie cliches is strange mist or fog, perhaps with a dog howling in the distance.
     Perhaps because things look different in fog, it is thought of as having transformative properties.
     Mist is a manifestation of elemental Water. It rises from the water and may just hang over the surface of a pond or bog. It is a place where spirits can be encountered. The mist itself can take on the shape on an ancestor, or another spirit creature.
     Mist can also be used for concealment, to hide our doings or our movements, and to encourage shapeshifting. The mist can help us transform into a totem animal, or take on our magical persona.
     Mist can be 'the breath of the Dragon', as it was known in Celtic times, and it can be the touch of the sorcerer.
     If you can learn to use the powers of mist, you have access to a wonderful magical resource.
     And this is just the time of year to try it.

Friday, 29 September 2017

Doggy Treasure!

China is getting to be a bit elderly, in doggy terms. She is over ten and her joints don't work as well as they once did. She is also rather matronly, and rarely manages a jog, let alone a full blooded gallop (unlike Bridie who is rarely still and has the turn of speed that a whippet would love).
      China has also long given the impression of not being the brightest spoon in the box.
      So after lunch as we settled down to watch Bargain Hunt, and Graham had taken the plates through into the kitchen, suddenly China arose from her customary place at the other end of the sofa, and staggered across the living room, ending up under our table.
      I was a little concerned, was her eyesight going? Was she getting confused about the layout of the room?
     We have a drop leaf table that folds away, and even has a section underneath to slide in the four fold away dining chairs. It is quite a neat piece of furniture when you do not have a very big house.
    Anyway, China was getting further and further under the table, and I was wondering whether I should pull her out, as she was ignoring me when I called her name. I could see she had her head now jammed into the recess where the chairs were stored, and I thought Graham might have to get her out. China has a special trick when she does not want to be moved. We call it her 'sack-of-spuds' impression. She suddenly drops to the floor, and if you want to move her, you are going to have to pick her up and carry her.
     I knew Graham would be back any second, so I thought I'd wait until he arrived then we could discuss the matter. At which point, China found what she had been hunting for, and keeping her back to me and Bridie, there were the distinct sounds of much crunching going on.
     It was at this point that Graham arrived. China trundled slowly back across the room and leapt onto the sofa and back to her normal position.
     It turned out that just before lunch, Graham decided to move the tin of biscuits that was on the living room table. Only when he picked it up, the lid wasn't on quite right and it popped off. Well clanged off, it made quite a row and Bridie shot upstairs. China didn't. She must have watched carefully as Graham swore and picked up all the biscuits he had dropped all over the floor.
     Well not quite all the biscuits, because one had managed to drop into the recess under the table.

    So the joints may not be all they once were, but the brain still seems ok.