The Magical World of Tylluan Penry

This is where Tylluan gets to wax (almost) lyrical:

Early one morning,
Just as the sun was rising,
I heard Welsh Water calling
In the Valley below.

Oh, do not phone us,
Oh do not moan at us
The water's going off any moment now....

This is a regular problem here despite all the water pipes being completely replaced 2 years ago. So I have been busy filling saucepans, a bucket for the dogs and enough water in the bath to flush the loo.

Now all I have to do is wait..... and wait....

It’s never easy to know when you’re under psychic attack and there’s an awful lot of paranoia about. I’ve even heard it said that if you think you are under attack then you probably are. Nonsense. Most of the time odd happenings can be explained – but it’s when the really inexplicable starts happening that you’d better get out the garlic and salt.

We’ve already looked at things like strange (and usually unpleasant) smells, a feeling of dread, a feeling on pressure on the chest (particularly at night), odd sounds (some people report hearing bells when there are none in the house), but all of these can have a natural explanation.

Most psychic attacks aren’t deliberate, but just a build up of spite, resentment, jealousy etc., which have been allowed to go unchecked. Never underestimate the power of spite, it has been responsible for some very unpleasant psychic attacks indeed.

It’s even possible to cause your own psychic attack, by brooding on past wrongs and instead of projecting these outwards (which is what normally happens) you find they are projected back to you. This can happen especially when you are brooding about something without any hope of redress. For example, when someone who has upset you is long since dead. In cases such as these, the attack can be very difficult to pin down. These attacks are actually quite common.

The rarest type of attack is one from a person who knows their stuff, magically speaking. The deliberate attack from a skilled attacker. These can be frightening and hard for a beginner to deal with. This is why I always suggest keeping up a reasonable level of psychic self defence at all times.

This approach isn’t paranoia, it’s just the psychic equivalent of locking your doors and closing the windows when you go out. Exercises to banish negativity are useful because they keep the home/office/car psychically clean and prevent a build up of thought forms that might attract problems. Think of it like putting bleach down the sink!

If you can’t bear the thought of doing banishing exercises with a sweeping brush then try ringing a bell – pure sound will banish negativity very effectively and cleanse the space where it is rung. Ringing bells is also good for cleansing objects. Done properly you can ‘feel’ the vibrations in the air afterwards. A large bell will clear a much larger area than a small one.

I would say that when in doubt about a psychic attack, begin by cleansing. This will probably clear about 75% of most problems. You might have to cleanse several times for a further 20% of cases.

That leave you with a difficult core of perhaps 5% of cases. But you aren’t powerless against these attacks, even if they come from a really skilled occultist. The difference with these cases is that they will not stop unless you do something about them. Time and effort have gone into the attack – so time and effort must go into your defence.

After dealing with a psychic attack it always amazes me how washed out I feel. Believe me I don't go looking for these things. I'm certainly not the sort of person to feel a twinge in my back and immediately think that someone's made a wax effigy of me and started sticking pins in it. That was lies paranoia.

But there are times when you simply have to say enough is enough. This attack has been building up for a week or so, with the waxing moon, and on the day of the full moon along comes the hex, in the post. It never fails to amaze me how many of these things there must be whizzing around the postal system. It's amazing anything gets delivered at all!

Anyway, there are ways of neutralising these things, making them harmless, and then I had to go round the boundaries of my home, scattering salt etc and performing a few rituals. The atmosphere lifted quickly which was good, but it's only really today that I feel more comfortable.

How do you know when you're under psychic attack? Well, usually you feel you can cut the air with a knife, but on a more practical level you get some or all of the following:

1. Terrible smells (but first inspect the cat, dog, hamster and drains for other explanations.)

2. Noises (again look for natural explanations.) Bells ringing are particularly obvious signs. So are footsteps or an increase in psychic activities.

3. A heavy feeling on the chest, particularly on waking in the night or early morning. (Again, if you share your bed with a pet this may be the explanation.)

4. An unpleasantly oppressive feeling - this is one you have to be careful with. It's easy to overreact!

Well, I'm going to try and catch up with your blogs now and then it's time to catch up on my sleep!
Cysgu da (sleep well)

Sorry I didn't post yesterday - the annual psychic attack has come around a bit earlier than usual, and I've had to deal with that first. It's very sad that an adult has to keep doing this, year in year out, but such is life!

Hope to be back online either later this evening or tomorrow. Please bear with me!

I'd been hoping to do a proper post today, but it's been difficult to find time to get online and blog. Partly this is due to the upcoming wedding, but partly because there are days, when to coin a popular local phrase, I can't find time to spit.

Still, there was one thing I wanted to post here today, which was prompted by Moonwoman's comment on yesterday's post. When we think of cave dwellers, we tend to think of a primitive, uncultured bunch of neanderthals who lived like animals, preoccupied only with the basic necessities of life.

However, a look at the cave paintings of Europe which are thousands of years old reveals they had a much more sophisticated society than we usually admit. Partly this is because little evidence from such an ancient period has survived. Partly, I suspect it may be because some scholars are reluctant to admit to such a level of sophistication back in the distant past.

Interestingly, Plato suggested a cave analogy for life itself. He believed we all live in a cave as prisoners, only able to see shadows on the cave wall but unaware of the forms that cast the shadows in the first place. Now there's food for thought!

When I was a child I was often told off for being a bit of a day-dreamer. It wasn’t that I couldn’t face reality, I just felt there was more than one ‘real world.’ Because, even then, I was such a bloody minded so-and-so, I never took much notice but I can imagine that many people’s imaginations must have been stifled by such a narrow outlook.

Historians, archaeologists and even folklorists are often criticised for speculating in their line of work. But the truth is that a little imagination, even in the driest of disciplines, can sometimes be a good thing. The idea of having some vision, some dream, may be frowned upon as being unrealistic but I think it’s reality that has the problems, not imagination. Reality is not – contrary to what many people think –somehow set in stone. In fact it’s changing all the time.

At one time you could be hauled before the ecclesiastical courts for declaring that the earth revolved around the sun. Or you could find yourself in trouble if you decided to dissect a dead body for the purposes of furthering your medical knowledge. And you could certainly get yourself into hot water for declaring that god did not exist, or that he hadn’t created the earth in seven days.

Part of the reason mankind makes any progress at all is due to our imagination. Even scientists need the ability to think outside the box, to consider the possibility of proving something hitherto thought impossible.

To deny imagination, to silence its voice, is to do great injury to ourselves, both as individuals and as a society.

Okay, sermon over. You can come out now. In my next post I intend exploring these ideas a little further. Because of course, imagination is just part of the story….

I came across this article and I can really recommend it:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/worldnews.html?in_article_id=495538&in_page_id=1811

Basically it is about an Italian insurance broker who decided to build temples underground, in solid rock. Only the photos in the article can really do justice to this man's dream, and I strongly recommend you have a look at them.

I was gobsmacked!

Today I looked at the calendar and realised we are approaching the end of November. Most people know what day of the week it is - not only do I spend days in blissful oblivion of this, I also spend quite a bit of each month unaware of the date. I do, however, usually know the moon phase.

Anyway, today I realised that I have to spend a day researching again. My ambition was to get the research finished off before the end of November and then start the writing. I have to give myself these deadlines, even if I don't always meet them. It's good to have a sense of urgency sometimes!

So I shall shut the curtains, take the phone off the hook and get on with the research again today (mostly it's sorting out references, but there's some new stuff to do too) and hopefully catch up with your blogs again this evening/tonight.

A few days ago, one of my Blogfriends, tuso 69 raised such an interesting question that I said I would try and do a separate post on it. She was curious to know why most of the festivals that are celebrated with lights (almost all over the world) happen during late october and November. These festivals include Diwali and Halloween/Samhain.

There are a couple of possibilities, although I don’t pretend to be certain of the answer, all I can do is try my best to suggest a few.

The first (and perhaps the most likely) explanation is that all beliefs stem from a single, much earlier tradition which has become lost to us. Wherever this originated,as the tribes migrated they took some of these beliefs with them, and passed them on to those they met.

It’s not as wild a guess as it sounds – homo sapiens have been around a long time, (and according to some scholars, so has Neanderthal – and I don’t just mean yobbos with knuckles scraping the pavements!)

Another possibility is that something really does happen in those months, no matter where you happen to live. This would suggest the beliefs are based on shared experience rather than simply shared traditions. I can only answer from a pagan point of view, but bearing in mind that much of Christian tradition has overlaid the earlier pagan one, it’s worth considering.

Long before Freud cottoned on to the idea, the ancient world believed in two opposing yet complementary forces, Thanatos (death) and Eros (Life/procreation). The resulting constant struggle between life and death, birth and death, fertility and decay was ever present, which probably explains why it is such a popular concept in psychology.

Most modern paganism has kept up with the idea of conflict between light and dark. So you get the conflict between the Sun King (or god) and Dark Lord, or the Oak King and the Holly King, that sort of thing.

The two special points of the year are November and May. November is celebrated as the month when we remember the dead because it is the month where the Sun King dies (to be reborn again at the winter solstice.)

Similarly, in May, six months on from November, the Dark Lord has finally died and will be reborn at the summer solstice (though a lot of ‘fluffy’ pagans don’t actually consider this) and May is celebrated as the month of fertility. So in November we have a month dedicated to Thanatos, and in May a month dedicated to Eros.

Well, these are just suggestions, I'd be interested to hear of any others!

Well, it's almost 11pm and this is the first chance I've had to actually post my blog because I've been tearing about all day like a headless (non-frozen! ) chicken.

It's the wedding - now that we have a date before Christmas, everything has to be done yesterday - if not sooner.

And of course, we Penry's being such a frugal lot, much of it is being done by family. This includes cake, flowers, invites....

Anyway, I'm going to try and catch up with some blogs now and hopefully things will be a bit quieter tomorrow!

I have often wondered why Mr Penry is so fascinated with ballistas (you know, those giant catapults of the ancient and medieval world.) I suspect it may be connected with his early job working on airoplane windscreens.

'Bird Strike' is the term often given to flocks of birds that suddenly fly in the path of a plane, wreaking havoc by smashing against the windscreen. Debris, feathers and all sorts of unmentionables then obscure the pilot's view, and in some extreme cases either crack or break the windscreen altogether.

Well, back in the days of his youth, Mr Penry had a job testing airoplane windscreens. He had to fire dead chickens at the glass from a large, catapult like contraption. On the first day his boss told him how to operate the machine, and then later on dropped by to see how he was doing.

Mr Penry, being enthusiastic had used up all the chickens, and negotiated the use of some more from a nearby store. He fired the first of the batch and it went straight through the windscreen.

His boss was astonished. 'Good God!' he said, 'I've never seen that happen before! Try it again.'
The same thing happened. The chicken hurtled through the windscreen leaving a neat, round hole. It landed not far from where the boss was standing, and he went to pick it up.
Then the penny dropped. 'You silly bugger, Penry,' he said, 'you're not supposed to use frozen chickens...'

Am I the only person on the planet who is sick and tired of being told how ‘we’ waste one third of all the food we buy?

Well I don’t. For one thing I can’t afford to. For another, I was brought up with the old ‘waste not, want not’ adage ringing in my ears. So if I’m not wasting a third of my food every week, there must be people who are wasting considerably more.

Part of the problem is how we define waste. I’ve never managed to find much use for eggshells or bones. But I do know that stale bread (provided it hasn’t actually grown a culture) makes the best toast and breadcrumbs. There are some, far more frugal even than yours truly, who swear by mouldy bread as natural penicillin and use it (with jam!) to treat sore throats.

I was brought up to know that sour milk makes good scones, or even (if you have enough of it) curd cheese. That potatoes with the odd sprout or two can be used in stews or cooked and mashed. That meat scraps can be cooked up for the dogs. And that dripping from a roast, spread on a bit of dry toast, is heavenly.

My aunts swore by cabbage water (which the cabbage had been boiled in) for their health. I even once saw two of them fighting over the last cupful. Potato water enriched gravies and soups. Cheese that had dried up and become too hard to eat could make great cheese sauce, cheese scones and cheesy flavoured bread.

But of course, few people teach that sort of frugality nowadays.

There are two sensible solutions to food waste :
1. Find a way of using it.
2. Don’t buy it in the first place.

If all else fails, just don’t tell that researcher with their Market Survey clipboard about it….

Well, the wedding is on... everything's being organised. I have spent much of the day wandering round trying to help (and probably being a right pain in the posterior only everyone's much too kind to tell me.)

Of course all this has set me off on a nostalgia trip down Memory Lane. Call me an old romantic, but in spite of the rise in divorces nowadays, I still think most people who marry honestly believe they've found the right person.

Sometimes things don't work out, but it always amazes me when the papers go rabbitting on about '1 in 3 marriages ends in divorce' because that must mean that 2 out of three marriages lasts...

You can just tell I'm one of those 'My glass is half full' people, can't you?

In my part of the world, even shopping can be quite a surreal experience. Today for example, Mr Penry and I ventured into our local Lidl's which has begun stocking up on Christmas fare in earnest.

Some of this exotic stuff is, unfortunately, completely lost on the customers (or at least, some of them). And I don't mean when they get in a consignment of Squid in its own ink or anything weird like that. The following conversation occurred, believe it or not, between two women who'd suddenly found themselves confronted with a freezer full of crabs.
'Oooh, look at that. It looks like a crab.'
'Mm. I think it is a crab.'
'I've never had one of those.'
'Me neither. Do you think it's cooked?'
'Can't be. It doesn't look cooked.'
'I wonder how you cooked it then?'
They scratched their heads over this for a few moment. 'Maybe you have to boil it.'
'Nah,' said the other one, 'The shell would explode....'

Honest, you couldn't make it up!

My internet connection has been dire for the past twelve hours. It has driven me well and truly up the wall. So apologies for not properly catching up with your blogs. I shall try again later.

The final version of this piece of music came through later on the same day at about 4.35 in the afternoon. I’d gone to the keyboard to listen again to the piece as I’d recorded it. It never occurred to me that the music hadn't finished yet!

But as it played it I could hear yet another flute part. This really surprised me but I wrote it down anyway and recorded that too. (I also wrote down my account of how the music came through to me.)

I had the impression that the piece was written for springtime (hence the cuckoo) by a music teacher for his pupils. I received much stronger visual images than usual – trees, a misty morning.

But perhaps the most interesting thing I should mention here is that when music comes through in this way I feel really dizzy and faint all day afterwards.

So now I suppose there’s one burning question – where does the music come from?

I wish I knew the answer.

I blogged the original piece of music on my last post. At the time (May 2005) I was managing to write down a lot of music in this way (I've been trying to do it since I was about 13) and each time I would write some notes on how the music had come through.

So for this piece, this is what I had written:

"21st May 2005. Today's piece of music was very interesting (a) because I could identify the 'trigger' that preceded it, and (b) for the way in which it came through.

The trigger - I woke at about 7am this morning, and could hear a distant cuckoo, the first of the year. It sang for a long time. I began to realise I had a piece of music coming through shortly afterwards, just 8 bars in 6/8 time. Six bars is a lot to remember so at about 7.45 I got up, went to the keyboard and wrote the music down.

The Left and Right hand parts came through simultaneously. This was unusual, but I was able to write it down. In all I did 16 bars, and then recorded this on my keyboard's 'record' facility.

When I played it back, although part of me was hearing the keyboard (I work with headphones on to avoid disturbing Mr Penry) my 'inner ear' heard another line of music, this time played by a flute, over the top. I realised when I heard it why the cuckoo had been a trigger.

Writing the flute part was a bit tricky, trying to separate it from everything else I could now hear, both in my head and on the keyboard!

In all I was finished by 9am. A lot of that time was taken up with learning to play the keyboard part well enough to record it. (Half the problem was the scrappy way I'd written the music down in the first place!)"

So now I had come up with this:

Hope you enjoy it! There's one more track to come!

Well here it is - it took me a while to upload it and please let me know if it doesn't work.....

This is the first of three versions of this piece, each becoming progressively more complex. It's not long, about 46 seconds. I'll tell you more about it later today, but I'd be interested to hear what you think.

This is a subject that has fascinated me ever since I can remember. Like many pagans, I believe in reincarnation, which means that I believe I have lived on this planet before.

Now I appreciate that this is going to set some of you rolling around the floor laughing. I can't prove my claims, I'm simply stating something I sincerely believe to be true. What's more, over the next three posts I am going to blog something a little bit unusual (well, let's say it's unusual for me. Maybe everyone else has heard it all before.)

So I am going to start by nailing my colours to the mast... I believe that in a past life I have been a travelling/strolling player, and a music teacher.

Part of the reason I believe this is that I 'hear' music in my head. This happens almost every day, and most of it is music I have never, ever heard before. It comes from all times and all places.

And sometimes I get to write it down.

Sometimes I go one better and actually manage to produce a recording of what I can hear (i.e. I write the music down, play that and then record it.)

Would you like to hear some?

I came across this quote by the French novelist Colette the other day, and it struck a real chord with me. “What a wonderful life I’ve had! I only wish I’d realised it sooner.”

Often I’m guilty of not appreciating the here and now, fretting over the past or worrying about the future. This just reminded me to make more of the present.

My blog is visible (to me) again! Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you!

I felt quite lost without it....

I have been trying to view my blog for over an hour now. Every time I try, I get an error message saying that Internet explorer cannot display the page. I can however view my statistics and access the 'Write' section. So I am writing. It feels like working in the dark.

What has happened today? I can't view anyone else's blogs at the moment either (it is now 9 am) and although I can access the Help page, I cannot view any of those pages either. The only bit that worked was the 'Send an Email' section... so I've sent one.

Is this in some way connected with the maintenance work we were warned about in the wee small hours of this morning?

Is anyone else having problems?

Do you think I should check with NASA for geomagnetic storms?

The French philosopher Gaston Bachelard once said : "Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plentitude of the soul."

I often used to get told off when I was young for daydreaming. I was a dreamy sort of person. "Live in the real world" people (teachers, family) would tell me. But by "real world" they all too often meant only the humdrum, the everyday. I wanted more than that. I was sure it existed, somewhere.

The beauty of reverie is that it creates the atmosphere and state of mind that enables your desires to actually take shape. On some level, even if it is just in your mind, your dreams do come true.

I try to make a little time for day dreaming every day. Sometimes it's just before I wake up. Sometimes it's in the middle of the afternoon or early evening. Sometimes I get five minutes, sometimes longer.

But I always feel so much better for it!

It never fails to amaze me what utter nonsense some journalists write. Take the story of how astronomers accidentally confused the European space probe Rosetta with a killer asteroid heading for Earth.

Apparently space experts at the Minor Planet Centre, (which is a group that actually looks out for incoming asteroids), were just about to tell the world that a deadly asteroid was due to skim our planet by only 3,500 miles and there was a very real risk that it might collide with Earth.

Then somebody realised that no, it wasn’t killer asteroid, it wasn’t even a smash-n-grab asteroid. It was in fact a space probe called Rosetta.

This is where the reporter really allows himself to be carried away. Apparently, Rosetta is ‘about the size of a Transit van and with a 32-metre wing span’. The journalist then strays off to mention Bruce Willis in Armageddon having to deflect an asteroid that was heading straight for Earth. (Hello??? It’s fiction!)

Back from the land of dreams, the reporter then goes on to say that, ‘Scientists believe that an asteroid of around 2 miles in diameter hitting the Earth would result in enormous devastation on a massive scale and the end of the human race.’

Now stop there. I can accept that an asteroid the size of Treorchy might well do quite a bit of damage, the but ‘killer asteroid/space probe’ was actually the size of a Ford Transit van.

Unless I am much mistaken these are considerably smaller than 2 miles, even allowing for a 32 metre wing span.

Here’s a memorable quote : "If it hit London, there would be no London,” says Apollo 9 astronaut Rusty, one of a group of astronauts which is urging Nasa to prepare for a possible impact.
Yeah – Rusty who? No idea.

And here’s another quote : “We're living in a shooting gallery," said Schweickart, who is never once identified in the article. He could be the man who empties the dustbins at the Daily Mail offices for aught I know.

We’re not living in a shooting gallery. We’re living in a lazy, stupid society that takes rubbish at face value.

If you are a chronic insomniac you can read the whole sorry article here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/technology/technology.html?in_article_id=493152&in_page_id=1965

Sweet dreams!

For those of you who are regular visitors to this blog, you may recall that between the 24th and 26th October I was ranting about how all my electrical appliances seemed to have inexplicably malfunctioned.

Well, yesterday I visited Nasa's website, clicked on various links and discovered that around that time there was a sizable geomagnetic storm going on, the sort that often interferes with communications equipment. So maybe, just MAYBE I am not as paranoid as I often fear.

Maybe they really are out to get me......

I'm sure most people reading this are aware that today was Remembrance Sunday, that day in the year when Cenotaphs up and down the country are dressed with poppy wreaths.

I know some people have mixed feelings about the whole thing, and for many reasons, and I respect that.

But I also want to blog briefly here about why I think it's important that we remember not only the fallen, but those who come back with shattered lives.

When I was young it wasn't uncommon to see young men out in the streets, shaking, shivering, sometimes yelling at nothing, and people would shake their heads and say 'That's poor Bob (or whoever). He was gassed.' These men didn't die, their names have never - will never - grace any memorial, and yet their lives were shattered just the same.

There was a woman whose husband had been horribly wounded in the War. Every day, with no help, she had to dress his wounds, rebandage them, cope with his shattered mental state and wonder where her handsome young husband had gone. One day, I was out with my aunt when we saw her running across the fields.
'That's odd,' said my aunt, 'I've never seen Mrs Jones out without her hat before. I wonder where she's going?'
We found out a few days later. She'd run to the river and drowned herself. You won't find her on any memorial either, but she was a casualty of war just the same.

And then there was my uncle, who came home on leave and went for a picnic, only to be threatened by the landowner with a shotgun, and told to 'Get off my land.'
'Your land?' demanded my uncle, 'Why am I the one fighting for it then?'

But the final word should probably go to Mr Penry's uncle, a professional soldier, horribly wounded in the Great War to End All Wars. When he found his local pub full of people who'd managed to avoid conscription, he lobbed a dud hand grenade in through the door.
'That'll make the buggers move,' he told them.

Came across a wonderful Remembrance Day parade today up in Hay on Wye. It lasted several hours, (in such a small town) and involved bands, banners, a church choir and just about the entire community marching in procession.

It was quite something to see and perhaps a good and timely reminder for Health and Safety obsessives that these things can be done without the need for ridiculous risk assessments or swingeing restrictions.

Armistice day today, and a sombre day in an always sombre month. In many cultures across the world, November is the time when we commemorate the dead, particularly our own family members.

This is a poem I did a few years back on the subject….

Dark Mornings in November

Mist like gunpowder, a heavy quilt
Of still remembered spark and spray,
Where all shone gold on Bonfire night
Now’s damp and cold and shades of grey.
For Samhain marked the ancient close
Of summer’s blossom, sunshine’s rose,
All Souls remembered in a prayer
Whispered in darkness, mourned with care.

Yet though remembering all things lost:
Dead sun, lost loves, close kith and kin,
They are not gone, there is no death
While memory lingers on within.
And still hearts beat and tears yet fall,
While eyes grow dim and hope grows small.
But nothing’s ever really lost
While steadfast loves remember,
And still rejoice in the recall of a voice
And dark mornings in November.

It’s a new moon today, though most of us will probably only look up and see it tonight if we have a clear sky. It always fills me with a great sense of comfort to see the tiny sliver of light hanging there in the heavens. It may not be as bright as the full moon, nor as majestic, but there is a sense of promise of great things to come.

Sometimes I just stand and gaze at her (for to me, the moon will always be ‘she’) but mostly I have to fit my adoration in with whatever else I’m doing, such as carrying out the rubbish bags, or refilling the dogs’ water bucket. I like to salute her, just to let her know that I’m there, that I’ve seen her.

In his work ‘The nature of the gods’ Cicero wrote 'If any man cannot feel the power of god when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling at all.'

I’ll go along with that.

I've mentioned before on this blog that Mr Penry is an excellent medium. He does not however do this for money... it's just something he does from time to time, as and when messages come through.

There are many misconceptions about mediumship - and unfortunately the TV and media are to blame for many of them. In fairness to the mediums involved, it can't be easy, trying to perform to order, week after week. But sometimes I do get exasperated with their vagueness... it seems to me that some are just guessing and hoping someone will jump in and claim the vaguest of clues.

It's not like that with Mr P. When he gets a message it comes in loud and clear. Names, places, dates.... fairly precise stuff. When I asked him why this was his answer was simple: 'Because I ask.'

So there's none of this 'I've got a message coming through from someone whose name begins with a P or an R' nonsense. I've known him tell me 'Go and ask whether the name Fred Thomas MacDonald (or whatever) means something to them.'

But being a medium isn't always pleasant. After the bombings on the London Underground on July 7th, Mr Penry picked up on endless voices, crying, screaming, sobbing for days. Some apparently didn't realise they were dead. Every message he received was from someone who was properly traceable. Mostly they just wanted reassurance about what had happened to them.

He can also hold an object in his hands and tell you about its history and provenance - This is called psychometry. I'll try and do another blog on that subject some day soon...

Just a quick note to say I'm sorry I haven't caught up with your blogs (nor indeed posted one of my own yet today). What with my cold, and now Mr Penry's, plus still working on my book, I'm just waiting for a moment or two to call my own.

In the words of the Terminator.... I'll be back!

At the moment one of our rabbits, an elderly blue British Giant named Eenie, is rather poorly. We have therefore brought him down from the Hutch (the outbuilding where he usually lives) and into the house for some TLC. This involves making sure he is clean, has no bedsores, and is eating and drinking properly. Every other day he has a bath.

Rabbits usually enjoy these, especially having their fur blow-dried afterwards! Eenie certainly enjoyed his bath yesterday, and managed to polish off a carrot and a pile of parsley afterwards.

He did however wriggle a bit when we tried turning him over to dry his other side. At this point, Florence, who had been watching the proceedings with interest, intervened very vocally.

Eenie went quiet at once and did as he was told.

Well, we learn something new every day. I'd had no idea that our Florence speaks fluent Rabbit....

While doing some research on my new book, I am often struck by what seem to be contradictory beliefs, even within a single culture or country. One example of this is the rosemary plant.

Now rosemary is both evergreen and aromatic, which means it will be associated with the love/fertility - death cycle, and also with protection. In Germany it was so popular as an emblem of fertility that I've found endless traditions of it being used in bridal bouquets, or sewed into the lining of the groom's hat and that sort of thing.

And then, suddenly, I find one tradition that is quite different. In some areas of Germany bride's wore a rosemary wreath to prevent pregnancy. This could suggest several that although Rosemary may have magical influence over fertility, individuals can divert this influence either towards negative or positive intentions.

Obviously it could suggest a lot of other things, too and of course here is the problem with any sort of research. Do I attempt to interpret them or do I simply ignore whatever does not suit my purpose?

Even an honest researcher (and I may have some wacky ideas, but I regard my approach as sincere within my own pagan framework) has problems when faced with contradicitons.

Irresponsible researchers/writers must have a real field day!

My youngest daughter came home today with a copy of the yellow Free Ads newspaper.

I always view this publication with a certain amount of trepidation since it invariably leads to Mr Penry having one of his ‘projects.’
‘ 'Why did you buy it?’ I demanded.
'I just felt like something to read.'
As far as good reasons for doing things go, this is in a class of its own. If you want something to read, buy an ordinary newspaper or a book. You don’t ‘read’ the Free Ads, you scan them, peruse them, and often giggle at the vision of helpless humanity revealed therein.

‘Large Billy Goat for male.’ Slowly it dawned on me it should have read ‘For sale.’

But what story lies behind the ‘Great Dane Puppy, female, nine weeks. Seeks new home as it is deaf’ advert? All my dogs are stone deaf when it suits them, which is most of the time.

You see, what Mr Penry needs is a separate column that reads ‘Large unwieldy objects, impossible to move’. Because that’s the sort of thing that quickly becomes his next ‘project.’

I would have thought he had learned from the last time we had to fill out an insurance claim for our poor, long suffering car. Under the ‘How was damage caused?’ section we’d had to write ‘Anvil fell through floor of the boot while we were trying to lift it out.’

I have laid down the law. ‘Any more projects and there will be trouble.’

Of course, Mr Penry knows this is sheer bluff. And with his head buried deep in the paper, while he munches on a treacle tart and smokes his pipe, I know there is trouble ahead.

Well, I see some of you have arrived already! It's a bit damp here today, but Mr Penry has got the bonfire going nicely with the help of a few bottles of white spirit. There'll be no more decorating around here until the smoke dies down!

Despite my plans to have a load of pretty fireworks, Hell's Kitchen appear to have brought in their usual boat load of semtex and have started setting that off.

There are plenty of jacket potatoes in the fire here and they should be ready to eat at about 9 o'clock. There are also plenty of sausages again (pork and veggie) and big bowls of faggots and peas. To any visitors from over the water (i.e. the US) I should here explain that faggots are a Welsh delicacy from minced pork and liver, seasoned with sage and onions. Just in case anyone had the wrong idea....

The Guy is in flames at the moment - judicious use of white spirit ensured that his head did stay on this year instead of flying off over Mrs Anubis Evans' house. There is no truth whatever in the rumours that this year's Guy was based on her. Nor is it based on Pope Benedict, or Posh Spice. If you must know, it was supposed to look like the Terminator.

As it is so chilly here I have laid on lashings of punch and mulled wine, also a few bottles of Famous Grouse for those who fancy it. For those avoiding the demon drink there is also hot honey and lemon, and hot cocoa.

I have had to strap down the metal dustbins again this year to prevent someone (he knows who he is) from placing bangers in them. I know it's fun to watch dustbins jump six feet in the air but be fair, tomorrow's bin day and the dustbin's full....

Someone asks every year for the recipe for home-made jumping jacks, and my answer is always the same - I am not giving it. Jumping jacks are dangerous and they frighten the animals.

Just because my great grandfather used to make them and throw them amongst the guests at the vicar's garden party does not mean I approve. He used to cover the trees in his orchard with cow dung to prevent the boys from stealing them and I don't approve of that either (the cow dung or the theft!)

I am hoping that Philghodg is going to DJ for us again, and I can see Artemis Toxia has already primed her fire arrows...

Anyway, I hope you are all enjoying yourselves. Please pick up a broom to fly home tonight to avoid drinking and driving!

Don't forget tonight sees yet another party chez Penry - Bonfire Night! As at Halloween, food, bonfire and magic are provided, and this time also fireworks! Also there will be courtesy broomsticks so that nobody will be drinking and driving.

Here in the Welsh Valleys Bonfire Night has been under way for the past two nights. Nobody has set fire to the mountainside opposite yet, but it's probably just a matter of time.

The neighbours in Hell's Kitchen usually put on a good show too, so the adventurous among you can climb the walls and have a look at that. Usually it involved burning household furniture and half a hundredweight of semtex. One year they built such a big bonfire they were forced to sit on their roof to watch it and it incinerated all their jacket potatoes.

As it's a magical party you can drop in at any time and everyone will still be there. Hope you can make it!

I am sorry to say that despite all my good intentions, I never took any photos yesterday. I was really feeling pretty rotten and it took all my energies just to walk!

So instead (and in order to make my blog look pretty today! ) I've decided to blog some of my watercolours from a few years back. Here they are:

This was a rosa rugosa from my garden... a lovely rose, it smells like turkish delight!

And this is a magnolia, now sadly dead, also from my garden....

Here is a picture of a kingfisher - took me a while to do this from sketches, back in the days when I would sit out in a hide and sketch!

Here were some hawthorn berries, also from my old garden, and last, but not least, here are some conkers I found out on a walk....

Off out today, dragging my cold (which is now quite something) with me. Also taking my camera, so you never know, I might have a couple of good photos by the time I get back!

Catch up with you all later!

Just a quick post this evening - I think I am coming down with a cold. Just thought I'd let everyone know in case I'm late posting tomorrow!

Hope you're all okay out there in Blogland!

Since I am still in a reflective mood since Halloween/Samhain, I thought I’d blog this poem that was published some years back. I’ve heard it said that you can’t ‘keep’ a ghost, but to me that totally misunderstands the nature of the Otherworlds that surround us.

Ghosts

Sometimes when I turn my head,
You’re almost, almost there.
I catch a word, as yet unheard,
The essence of your prayer.
I sense my need to know you,
I feel you everywhere.

You’re waiting in the garden,
Or lingering in the hall,
I feel the breath of sparkling death,
Gathering like a pall.
I don’t know what you want from me,
But sense your anguished call.

I do not know the reason
That makes you stay so near,
Yet keep your post, sweet watchful ghost
There’s nothing you should fear.
But I wonder why you chose me,
And why you brought me here?

As we enter November now, the year is changing gear once more. What does it mean?

In many cultures and many lands November is a month for commemorating the dead. Whether we do this with prayers and religious ritual or pumpkins and bonfires, the principle behind it remains the same. The only time it really changes is when people try to use it as a money spinner.

November is a time for reflection. The nights are dark now, it's difficult to do simple things we once took for granted, like drying the washing on the line or sitting in the garden in the evening.

But there are other compensations. The loveliness of candlelight, the cosiness of wrapping up against the cold, frosty mornings when our world sparkles - these are all small gifts to us.

When we take time to truly appreciate our surroundings - no matter how humble they are - we see a different world from the one we usually take for granted. Yet it's a world no less interesting, no less rich and varied than the lighter months of summer.

So yes, November may have its associations with the dead. But remember that in the ancient world dead (thanatos) came hand in hand with love (eros) Death may end life, but love can renew it.

You did remember to say it this morning, didn't you?

First of all, thank you everyone who came to my Halloween/Samhain party last night, here in Blogland. I hope you all enjoyed yourselves and got home safely. Those of you who borrowed broomsticks please don’t worry about returning them – these are Homing Broomsticks, so just leave them outside and they’ll come back on their own.

Mr Penry had a wonderful time. He has woken up this morning able to quote, in full, the script from The Crimson Tide. Whoever was responsible for teaching it to him, I thank you. He is now a very happy man.

Barney has been bilious since about three o’clock this morning, probably from scoffing so many toffee apples. Florence is wandering round with someone’s shoe in her mouth. She hasn't let me close enough to check whether it contains a foot. If you think it is yours do please let me know and I’ll send it on to you.

Ah well, back to normal for a few days – we’re having a Bonfire Party on the 5th November, so please come on over again to celebrate!