Round the Herne

When the router died, I spent a bit of time adding more to this story. It's never going to go anywhere (from a publishing perspective), but it's providing a relaxing diversion for me to write.  CHAPTER 1 is  here CHAPTER 2 is  here   CHAPTER 3 is  here   CHAPTER 4 is here (if you haven't already read them) CHAPTER 5   As the induction class drew to a close, Catriona glanced round to see the other members of the group looked as stunned and bewildered as she felt. A rueful smiled played on the Principal’s lips as his kindly blue eyes took them all in. it was doubtless far from the first time that he had turned people’s worlds upside down. A painfully thin lad with a prominent Adam’s apple and bad acne set further along the bench, staring at the copious pile of notes he had taken and looking as if he might cry. The light from the three large stained glass windows cast hypnotic patterns across them all. The Otherworld, which she had always taken as ...

 Chapter the fourth in my serialised meander into the world of YA fantasy. I'm amusing myself if nobody else, so will write a little more before the q=burdens of the quotidian world get in the way, CHAPTER 1 is  here CHAPTER 2 is  here   CHAPTER 3 is here (if you haven't already read them) CHAPTER 4    “The Fourth House?” Dylan mouthed the words as if he were saying something obscene that he did not want overheard. “Who on earth told you about that?” Catriona recounted the scene she had witnessed in the bookshop. Her books were currently teetering on the dresser. She had opted to skip the hurley shop and acquired a sackful of herbs and a pocket-sized sickle at Demulcent’s Herbarium. The herbs were filling her room with a heady aroma. At Morwenna’s insistence she had gone into Stang and Treen’s stavewright shop to acquire a staff. A polished length of oak has caught her eye, engraved with a stag design. She felt rather silly carrying it home (catching...

 Continuing the whimsy to a second chapter of this serialised (and shamelessly derivative) YA fantasy, I might go a third chapter, not sure whether to continue it beyond that. It gives me something more creative to do of an evening than just watch drivel on TV. CHAPTER 2   The bell started to toll as they exited the lift, Catriona still wondering what the Veil was and if she would look foolish by asking. By the third and final stroke Morwenna had shepherded them across to a stairway that wound down into the cellars beneath the Tower. Catriona’s momentary panic about her luggage was assuaged with the promise that the Porter would ferry everything off to the Halls of Residence. The others seemed quite blasé about not having seen the Halls and were confident that everything would be in place for them. Catriona’s past experience of educational administration had not left her as trusting, but she kept her fingers crossed and was swept along on the flight down to the Great Hall....

This is just a bit of whimsy to give my three remaining brain cells a bit of exercise (been under the weather lately and lacking creativity). I like the idea of a serialised story, so here is the first entry in a highly derivative YA fantasy, praise be to St Plagiarus. Not sure how much further, or how regularly, I will continue this but at least it has kickstarted the grey matter once again. CHAPTER 1    Catriona stood before the stone doorway, her fingers traced the triquetra carved into the ancient wooden door. It looked early medieval, ancient in a city where every other building seemed steeped in centuries. The carved symbol matched that on the letterhead that she had received back in March inviting her to study Celtic History at Gorsedd College, Cambridge. Catriona had applied to study in Cambridge, but at Peterhouse not at this college. She hadn’t even heard of Gorsedd College much less applied to it, but the offer was excellent and especially sweet with the bursary...

 Finally got round to continuing with the series of recordings about the Irish ogham alphabet, now up to the ninth letter Coll (which means 'hazel tree').

 Yesterday our druid group performed the story of Cael and Credhe at the Leaping Hare pagan convention in Colchester, which went down quite well with the audience. The tale is a tragic one of doomed love. My own interpretation is that Cedhe is an embodiment of the Land - whether she is understood as a goddess or a fairy or something else entirely is a separate issue. The marital contingency that her suitor recites the list of her many treasures strikes me as being less about materialism and more that the lucky man should know the many gifts of the earth.

 An anonymous poem written originally in Old Irish, which was in circulation between 600 and 900 CE is dedicated to Saint Brigit and extols her various titles and the virtues they represent. That this is a Christian saint is indicated via the line that refers to her as Daughter of Dubhtach, the father of the future abbess of Kildare as mentioned in her hagiography. The other lines of the poem could as easily be about the goddess Brigid to whom the imagery of the saint is so closely related. it may well be that audiences hearing this poem at its inaugural reading might have struggled to distinguish one from the other - and in some cases not even regarded there as being much difference. The theological demarcations of today were not necessarily seen as all that important well over a millennia ago. Even the clearly Christian references to her as being the Heaven-King's sister and having reached Holy Heaven could be seen as remembrances of pagan Brigid as sibling to divine figures such...

I gave this talk in 2018 as part of the public lecture series run at the college I lecture in - each month a different person spoke on a wide variety of topics (history, science, politics, art etc.). This talk explores concepts of Celtic identity and culture through the medium of poetry, with a number of readings from various different poets - Welsh, Irish, Scottish etc. and one English (me). My Gaelic is dreadful, but bear with!

Had a lovely trip to the Vajrasana Buddhist Retreat in Suffolk with the students today - stunning statues and a wonderfully tranquil courtyard garden. Wish we'd had time to stay longer. Helped to stop me stressing about a very elderly dog who was under anaesthetic for extensive dental work (he survived and is sleeping soundly as I type). Anyway, here's an end-of-term semi-conscious meander through ideas building around Nietzsche's concepts of the Master-Slave dialectic and developing beyond it to what I consider a more balanced polytheist/animist approach (with some inspirational help from economic theorist Jane Jacobs and American philosopher Lester Hunt). Oh, and for those of you missed the kitchen videos, we're back to baking!

This is a philosophical meander around issues of value and market worth within paganism, exploring some economic issues and speculating about what (if any) models of economics the various pagan religions could offer to the wider world. I'll probably add to this later, but I'm hoping to generate some constructive interaction with listeners as to how they address the issues raised in this podcast about the ethics of how pagan morality impacts on ways to earn a living - and upon how money should (or should not) play a role within the pagan religions themselves.

Jo suggested I record another in the "Druid Ramblings" series on the theme of satire, partly as she had seen the reaction of comedian Jonathan Pie to a court case involving an attempt at humour involving a pug (I don't think many people laughed, so a bit hit-and-miss as comedy goes). Anyway, cutting to the chase this is a ramble upon that subject to the usual standards of incoherence, flitting between Early Medieval Ireland and the 21st century pagansphere, whilst attempting to bake a Black Forest Gateau. At the end people arrived home early and I attempted to pause the recorder but ended up switching it off entirely (I am a tad shite when it comes to technology) and could not be bothered recording the whole thing all over again - so it just ends a bit suddenly. Pretend this is the last episode of The Sopranos. The way my body is going, I will end up looking like a Godfather soon anyway. Oh cake, why must you tempt me so?

Finally trying to get my brain back into gear. Having done a few basic "what is paganism" videos, I'm having a go at at least one (maybe more in the future) recordings musing over ideas within druidry. I'm not aiming at an introductory overview, because there are loads of those already. Rather, these will be philosophical, ethical, possibly mystical meanders. If viewers would like more, please suggest topics. If you have had more than enough, well... endeavour to at least be polite about it.

I haven't added to the basic paganism podcasts for a while (much to the relief of all concerned), but Carol asked if I could do something on the festival of Imbolc. This is a bit basic, and there are various other practice and traditions that could be added, but this is the direction my brain meandered in whilst I baked cake. Authors such as Alexei Kondratiev have gone into a great deal of detail on the ritual practices from ancient to modern times, should you wish to delve into more background information.

The eighth part of the prattle about basic paganism reflects some thoughts and notions around festivals and rituals - why we celebrate, what we celebrate, and how we celebrate. Cake is the answer to most of it.

Fame and fortune (well, no fortune) being interviewed by Robert Lummis for his Universal Energies show on the Felixstowe internet TV channel. It was an interesting experience, and totally unscripted. Clearly I am in dire need of a make-over to stop looking like a hobbit, but that aside hopefully you'll find the topics discussed of interest.

Last weekend the druid group I belong to went on a holiday trip down to Wiltshire to visit Stonehenge and Avebury (and yes, we do know they both massively predate any mention of the druids, but they're an amazing feet of human achievement). The weather was pretty dire, but we had a good time and it was nice to be with other people. It gets a bit dull living alone, and it's nice to have company! Inset is a story about standing stones. I first heard this tale in relation to the stones of Carnac, but I have seen near identical versions told of stones from around Britain and elsewhere. The two notions that animals gain the power of human speech (or maybe just that humans become capable of understanding their native languages) and that menhirs get to drink water once per year seem to be very widespread. Maybe the thought of stones drinking is mostly just whimsy, but I think the element of Dr Doolittle speaks to a very deep need to be able to communicate with the species that we ...

On July 25th the local druids will be hosting a day of talks, discussions, storytelling, demonstrations etc. celebrating Celtic mythology and both ancient and modern druidry. I will be both talking (about Insular Cetic deities and ogam) and storytelling. The setting is a beautiful 15th century pub, the White Horse at Finningham, a few miles from Stowmarket. If anyone needs collecting from the train station, this can be arranged - provided you give advance notice! Details of ticket prices etc. can be found here - http://www.ipswichpagancouncil.com/dancingwiththedagda.htm

Happy Beltane everyone. My hawthorn tree is yet to blossom, so I haven't lit my two fires as yet - but many other people around the world are celebrating the start of summer in their own locales, so here is a story set at Beltane for you to (hopefully) enjoy. It's the story of the youthful Fionn Mac Cumhail and how he comes to eat the Salmon of Wisdom and so gain both vast knowledge and magical powers. It's a tale of blossoming adulthood, self-discovery, burgeoning passion, and the personal sacrifice of both a mother who gives up her baby to keep him safe, or two druid women who likewise give up the boy they have raised and loved to keep him safe, and an old druid sage who gives up the wisdom he has spent a lifetime searching for in order for a callow youth to have it. There is much more that could be said about this simple tale, but maybe I'll save it for some other time.

A second recording, this time of one of my own poems from Bard Song.

During a week's holiday in Ireland I found myself being volunteered to tell stories at an evening entertainment geared towards introducing tourists to Irish songs, dance and Gaelic poetry. I can't remember ever feeling nervous about a performance before ~ but I suddenly had the sort of angst that Joyce Grenfell described in one of her biographical reflections when she was booked to perform in Vermont and wanted to do a sketch involving a local accent (she was fine doing it in any other country... but how would the native react to hearing a foreigner imitating their accent?) I've told Irish myths and stories a hundred times over, sometimes with one or two Irish people in the audience. Yet the prospect of telling Irish tales in Ireland in front of so many natives raised the embarrassing prospect of watching them cringe every time I mispronounced a character's name ~ and given the range of dialects in Ireland, however I said the names was bound to sound wrong to at leas...