Round the Herne

This story is one that I made up (mostly as I went along, as you may notice!). However, it draws on a number of folklore traditions about robins, both accounts of how they got their red breasts, but also their curious and magical behaviour. The Church has accrued a number of traditions about this bird, such as the redness coming from Christ's blood as the previously brown bird tried to pull out either the thorns from the crown or the nails from Jesus' wrists during the crucifixion, or that it was a burn mark from hell fire as the bird tried to bring water to those in torment. In either case the redness results from an act of mercy. There are suggestions of a link to the mythology of Thor, but this has proved elusive to pin down beyond endless repetition of the same vague reference on websites. Irish myth states that Queen Medb has a pet robin and a pet squirrel, and one of the Welsh triads gives the robin as amongst the most blessed of animals. I wanted to record a story ab...

One of the few benefits of social media (there are plenty enough disadvantages to it) is that you get to talk to people you'd never otherwise meet. Recently I have been chatting to a pagan man from Georgia - the country adjacent to Turkey and Armenia, not the state in America - about various aspects of religion, mythology etc. Knowing nothing whatsoever about Georgia, I decided to learn a little more about its ancient religions and traditions. I came across this story, about a boy apprenticed to Vakhraca. Not at all sure if I have pronounced the name correctly, but Vakhraca is referred to as the devil in one account. Given that he emerges from a stream, I did wonder if he might once have been the spirit of the water course. Whatever the figure in the story was originally, the tale of shapeshifting is reminiscent of other form-changing battles between an older wizard or witch and their young apprentice. These stories crop up a lot and may well suggest some kind of initiatory proc...

Reading poetry to revive what's left of my brain after a few weeks of relentless work (which the lock-down seems to have made more intense rather than easier!) These short poems are The Stolen Child and The Song of the Wandering Aengus, both by W B Yeats, and The West Wind by John Masefield. Should anyone know if there is indeed an adjective (akin to petrichor for rain) to describe the aroma of old books, please let me know. As you can see I am in full lock-down shaggy beard and hair! I count the days till the barber shop reopens, as does Mrs Lovett.

West Suffolk College was going to host a seminar today on Max Weber's theory of the Iron Cage - and drawing in ideas from psychology, sociology, ethics, and religious studies. Due to lock-down this has now been turned into a virtual seminar which you can watch at your leisure. If there is sufficient interest in discussing the topics raised, a virtual discussion could potentially be organised via Webex. There were going to be some other seminars this academic year and, depending on the kind of response gleaned to this virtual event, some of those may also be turned into this kind of format.

I was going to record a dragon story yesterday (St George's Day) but struggles with the modern monster of technology consumed too much time. So, belatedly, here is a Hindu tale about a giant serpent demon which could be considered a dragon of sorts. The monstrous Vritra swallows up the rivers and causes terrible droughts and much death, till the god Indra comes along and sorts him out. In doing so he gains the title of Vritrahan, the dragon slayer. I am not sure who the artist is with the picture of Indra and Vritra inset. Should anyone be wondering, yes I do look that fat and unkempt - consider it the impact of quarantine! I was told yesterday that I look old and haggard, so there's no point denying it anymore! Once it is lifted I will be joining the long queues at the barbers and eating dust with Fat Fighters.

The Royal Shakespeare Company have started a Share Your Shakespeare project to encourage people during the lock-down to read a speech from a poem, act out a speech from one of the plays etc. So this is my brief contribution to that - three of the Bard's sonnets. Sonnet 29 I have chosen because I first heard it read aloud several decades ago by the American actor Ron Perlman, who has a fantastically gravelly voice well suited to poetry. I can fully sympathise with the poet's words, having had many occasions in life when I have wished I were much more like some very impressive person or another rather than just being a ginger hobbit (mind you, Old Will was a ginger too - look at that beard!). Not quite so many experiences of the Thy Sweet Love, but that's what happens when you're a hobbit. Sonnet 81 is here because, in these dark times, there will be many people looking at family, friends, lovers etc. and wondering if all too soon one will be attending the funeral of...

Passing the time with a reading of Saki's short story "The She-Wolf" in which a windbag gets hoist on his own petard by one of Saki's recurrent characters, the man-about-town Clovis Sangrail (a surname that will amuse Arthurian enthusiasts).