Round the Herne

The Wind in the Willows is one of my favourite books - the wonderful passion for the countryside, the humorous and well-drawn characters, the fact that nothing much really happens but it is nonetheless as engaging as a sunny afternoon picnic As well as the book, I have several audio recordings by different actors. They are all abridged and all exclude Chapter Seven - quite my favourite part of the book and a total divergence from the general capering of the rest of the book. as I find reading the book therapeutic (and it's been one of those weeks where I need some therapy), I've recorded it both for my own enjoyment and to hopefully inspire a few listeners to go out and lay paws to their own copy of the novel. So far as I know Kenneth Grahame was not pagan, but the whole tale is redolent with a pagan love of the land and its denizens - culminating in the epiphany on the island (the sort of thing most pagans only dream of... or only fleetingly recollect and dismiss as a pipe

On the evening of Thursday 17th August, my two elderly dogs and I were walking on Broom Hill, Ipswich (the side close to Valley Road & Westwood Avenue). Two large off-leash rottweilers appeared out of nowhere and attacked both my dogs and me, as I fought to kick the damned things off. The owners were way behind and were clearly not rushing even though they must have heard these monsters baying, my dogs screaming in pain, and me bellowing at the things to fuck off. By some miracle the little Jack Russell was bruised but not otherwise wounded. My husky was badly bitten on his head, stomach, flank and rear, and had to be taken to the vet for stitches - costing £370. The damage to his belly was seconds away from disembowelling him. My leg and hand were bitten (blood everywhere by the time we got home) and I was given a tetanus booster and antibiotics. The irresponsible buggers made no effort to apologise or ask if either I or my dogs were harmed. What makes this matter worse, for m

On Saturday past the Pagan Council held a Tree Walk around the Ipswich Arboretum in which I shared myth, poetry, folklore, and pagan magical traditions connected to the species of tree that we saw. There was a nice turn out on the day, the weather held well, and it raised just over £20 for the Woodland Trust (every little helps). Afterwards we had tea and cake in the cafe in Christchurch Park. It was a lovely, relaxing afternoon and we may well run something similar next year, going on a different route with other trees and their folklore. This story is a short version of one of the most famous Irish tragic sagas, Deirdre of the Sorrows. I include it here because of the appearance of the trees at the end of the tale. There are several versions of the saga, each with slight variations (not all include the trees, for example). One day I might do a fuller version of this story, fleshing out some of the characters that just get glossed over in this recording.