I'm not the only one who gets buffetted about by the dogs. Homer, the Bassett Hound was unlucky enough to have Barney land on top of him on Friday after a game of tug of war (with my cardigan, unfortunately.)

The result - Homer has been limping. When he limps he gets all sad and depressed and stops eating, so today Mr Penry took him to the vet. On the way we heard a strange hissing sound.
Is it a plane?
Is it a bird?
Is it Superman?

None of these - Homer had sat on the de-icer and managed to spray it all over the floor.

[The vet gave him an injection and some painkillers and all is now well in Homer's world. I think maybe I should visit the vet too.....]

You don't have to be a Pagan in order to enjoy this one, although I strongly suspect it's a Pagan 'left over' from earlier times. Women seeking to find out who they were going to marry would go out at the first new moon of the New Year and stand with their feet on a stone and their back against a tree. Then she had to say:

All hail to thee, Moon!
All hail to thee!
I pray thee, good Moon
Declare to me this night
Who my husband shall be.

Even if you don't feel like doing this spell, it's good to be out at night at this time of year and bow to the New Moon - there's something very special about it!

Ever since my dogs so thoughtlessly kindly pushed me over just before Christmas on the morning of my granddaughter's wedding, I seem to have had a trapped nerve in my hip/spine. At any rate, it's agony. I have been wandering round looking like Quasimodo with the hump reversed....

I've avoided the TV in favour of some DVD's (when I get the time which isn't often) and have discovered the joys of "24" - now there's something to get addicted to, a comic strip on film. If anyone says 'Trust me' now I just scream and run a mile...

One good thing to come out of the series however is I now have a great phrase for whenever I need to disappear off and do some work on my book : 'Going dark.'

So folks, I am going to hobble off to my desk and go dark, very very dark, for a couple of hours.... catch up with you later!

Have a wonderful weekend!

I know a lot of Pagan friends have told me pretty awful stories about how Christians have discriminated against them in one way or another, but in my own experience I've got along with most faiths (and none). I always thought the key was to live and let live provided they extended the same courtesy to me.

So I was pretty shocked today to come across a report that Pope Benedict is going to train up more exorcists to do battle with the devil. Like most Pagans, I don't actually believe in a devil - history after all teaches that in order to supplant another religion, the easiest thing is to first demonise it.

So in my humble opinion the early Christian church just found the most popular deity of the time (Herne, Cernunnos, Pan for example) and demonised him. It's a good way of getting rid of the opposition, after all.

That's not to say that I don't believe evil exists - undoubtedly it does. But the devil has been a useful scapegoat for people without the strength to resist some of the temptations that life throws at them. 'The devil made me do it' is often another way of saying 'I thought I could get away with it but now I've been caught there's no way I'm to blame.'

There has always been - and continues to be - quite a bit of evil in the world - although it manifests itself in different ways at different times and in different countries. Just because I don't happen to buy into the Horned Devil plus Trident brand doesn't mean I think the world is all sunshine and roses. Clearly it isn't.

But I do despair when I see the Pope taking what I see as a backward step, and wonder just how long it will be before he reintroduces the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (or as it was once known, the Inquisition.) But wait, this present Pope used to be in charge of the CDF... maybe it's all a cunning plan to start burning heretics again.

Now who might be a good person to put in charge of such a project? Someone who can argue till the cows come home and even when losing just says 'I'm sorry but you're wrong'

Maybe that's why Tony Blair really became an RC....

Well, here we are in the last week of 2007. When I was young, this was the time when people began planning their New Year resolutions. I've never quite understood why this is the time when they start getting all guilty about what they ate/smoked/drank over the Festive Season. And it was the same every year - which rather begs the question, if you know you're going to feel guilty about it, why do it in the first place?

What annoys me about New Year resolutions is that they're almost always about giving up something.... giving up food, cigarettes, whatever.

Some of the best (and most easily kept) resolutions in my experience are about shifting your attitude to life. What I usually do is find a favourite quote, write it up in my diary and let it gently guide me over the coming twelve months.

Here are some of my favourites from New Year's Past:

All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing. (That was the year I started campaigning about things I felt strongly about.)

The most dangerous creation is the man with nothing to lose. (That was the year I took my general stroppiness in hand and learned that in order to negotiate - as opposed to simply arguing - you have to give the other person room to manoevre.)

I haven't made up my mind what this year's resolution will be. Mr Penry has the same one every year 'Take it easy.'

There's a lot to be said for it.

When I was a child I always used to wonder why people made such a fuss of December 25th when all the real work was being done on the 23rd/24th. The days are at their shortest on the 21st, but after that they are lengthening and everything on earth knows it. Apart from people, perhaps.

This morning I was up to watch the sun rise in a clear blue sky. Fingers of gold shot with pink and red stretched across the heavens, a silent symphony of colour. There was frost, yes, but there was also promise. The birds were out in force, singing.

We get a wide range of birdlife here, and although I’m no real birdwatcher, I can recognise a lot of them and put seed out for them through the year. I also learn to recognise the gist of their song. Sometimes it’s about courtship, sometimes about warning, but this morning, unmistakably, they were rejoicing.

So I wandered off into the garden, and although it was still pretty dark there it also had that quality of expectation about it.

For me as a Pagan, this time of year, Christmas, Solstice, Yule, call it what you will (and I belong to a time where Pagans didn’t draw attention to themselves if they could help it) is all about rejoicing. The year is changing gear. Even better, there is a glorious full moon shining down on us at night.

I had intended an online party for the Solstice but was too shattered after the wedding. So instead I’ve written a solstice blessing for all of you….

May the moon turn her face to you
And teach you the secrets of her night;
May the sun’s warm embrace with you
Teach you all the secrets of his light.

Starlight, moonbright, Summer’s disc and Winter’s night
Keep you fast and hold you tight.

Well, I needed a few days to recover from the wedding - not due to excessive alcohol intake, you understand but because my dogs managed to literally knock me off my feet the morning of the wedding. Luckily I missed the box tree and so saved my nose and what remain of my teeth, sustaining nothing more than bruises. Ben and Homer blamed Barney while Florence blamed everyone...

But never mind that. This is where the wedding took place....

It was a fairy tale location for a fairy tale wedding. We were even lucky with the weather - the day before the Solstice saw that wonderful silvery sunshine that only December knows. And in fact we were lucky with just about everything - it was as near perfect as a wedding can be. Hopefully I may even have a few photos to post up here soon!

Gone are the days when wedding speeches went in strict order, - father of the bride, groom and best man. Now others are invited to prepare speeches, or even deliver impromptu ones at the reception. Personaly I think this is asking for trouble. A half-bottle of wine can bestow delusions of adequacy on just about anyone....

That said Mr Penry has been asked to deliver a speech at our granddaughter's wedding. He has been quite diligent about this. I keep catching him writing his notes whenever he thinks I'm not looking. He hasn't read it to anyone yet (unless Homer has had a sneak preview) but whenever I ask him he says it is coming along nicely.

This morning however I was a bit alarmed. 'I think I should be able to do thirty minutes now,' he announced.
I nearly fell off my chair. Thirty minutes?
'Well, with a couple of jokes, a few reminiscences, a song or two and maybe a bit of tap dancing....'

I'm off to make my corsage.....

Will we ever be ready? Does it matter? We'll get there when we get there, I tell myself, and all will be well.

I'm not convinced that anybody (apart from me) actually believes this...

Today I have been so cold I can barely function. The water in the buckets down in the garden has remained frozen all day. I'm too cold to even go out and put the Christmas lights on. And of course the central heating boiler is acting up. (It is large, creaky and old - a bit like me, really I am getting to have a special relationship with that boiler, I think, born of long hours spent out in the darkness, trying to get the pilot light to work. British Gas keep trying to flog me a nice, new, streamlined combi boiler. Our plumber says we'll be lucky if it lasts a year unless we put in a completely new system. So where did I put that torch?

I am going to do a reading at the wedding - that should be fun. My reading is one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I admit to being a great fan of the Bard, probably because it brings back happy memories of picnicking in fields, with a bottle of cider and a book of poetry (I was a very romantic wench!)

Here is the sonnet in full:

Let me not to the Marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is not shaken;
It is the star of every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown although his height be taken.
Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with its brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Well, I'm still not quite back into the swing of things, please bear with me. Today we've been making the place setting cards, so I got out my inks and calligraphy pens and got busy!

I managed to find an interesting arrangement of berries and glitter for my corsage for the wedding. Well, you couldn't imagine me wearing anything remotely normal, now could you?

Shall drop in as often as I can this week - Thursday's the big day!!

Apologies for being behind on the blog and for hardly commenting these last few days. We are less than a week from the wedding, and I'm amazed how much still needs to be done. Added to this the cold weather has turned me into a creaking old crone - very unpleasant, not to mention painful.

So please bear with me. My home town is becoming increasingly surreal, as it always does at Christmas time. Yesterday I saw Santa with a white stick making his way down the high street, and today I noticed a house where the roof is not only covered in rope lights, but they have managed to fit a giant snowflake (i.e. about 8 - 9 feet across) to the chimney. I suspect some of the houses up here can be seen from space.

Last year someone decorated their home as a giant aquarium, complete with blue and purple lights and illuminated gold fish! I even saw one inflatable Snowman hanging by his neck from an upstairs window. It was a said sight - clearly Christmas had got too much for him.

Anyway, I am doing my best to visit all your blogs even though I don't always manage to write a comment. Christmas/Yule is going to be even more low-key than usual this year!

Brightest blessings
Tylluan

There's something very special about this time of year. The moment I wake up (especially when it's not raining I'm aware of a tingle in the air... hard to explain but it's there, like a breath in the darkness.

And in the mornings, when the frost has make the grass long and pointed, there's a special feeling - something (someone?) is coming.

In the afternoons, as the sun begins to slip behind the mountains opposite, it looks like a giant pearl in a pale blue shell. That's special too.

But most special of all is when it begins to darken. At this time of the year the sky takes on a distinctly greenish cast, and the stars sparkle like shards of broken mirror on a deep velvet carpet. Something is definitely on its way.

We recognised these things when we were children. We knew there was something special in this time of year. Some of us were told it had religious significance. Others were told it was because of Santa and present giving.

As we grew older, some lost their faith, and suddenly this time of year lost its meaning. THose who put their faith in consumerism and material goods suddenly found themselves locked into a remorseless cycle of spend, spend, spend. They too found that this time of year lost its meaning.

But if you go out, first thing on a December morning, or in the evening to look at the stars, you'll find that the real meaning of this time of year cannot be lost. The Solstice is a fixed event in the calendar. You don't need to have faith in it, you can measure it. You don't have to spend money on it - it's presence is a gift.

Just be still. Feel the change in the year. THe cycles are turning, shifting gears. Listen, look, feel these changes. This time of year is special. You don't need to be a pagan, to worship anything or anyone, in order to appreciate it. You certainly don't need to spend a fortune.

Bring a piece of greenery back indoors with you when you come - it doesn't have to be holly, or mistletoe. Ivy grows just about anywhere, and many gardeners are glad to be rid of it. A few bay leaves, a sprig of rosemary... anything evergreen to symbolise eternity and immortality.

Light a candle to symbolise the sun which returns unfailingly no matter how bad the weather. (It can symbolise other things too, of course, but here I'm just talking about the basics.)

The shrinking of the sun at this time of year, it's apparent withdrawal from our lives should make us think of what really matters to us. For me it's family, the people I love. So we spend time together, eat together, share our love for each other and our enjoyment in each other's company. I can't be doing with unpleasant relatives who turn up and spoil things every year. THey can stay away if they won't behave!

If you feel that Christmas/Yule has lost the meaning it once had for you, then make the effort to get outside and contact the natural world. Try it - it might rekindle the way you once felt about this very special time of year!

Brightest blessings
TYlluan

No rain, no leaks, drips, soggy dogs etc., just freezing cold and brilliant sunshine! GLorious!

It is also perishing cold. My fingers can barely type, the car battery has died and the road is like a sheet of ice (no corporation gritting lorries up here yesterday.)

The garden is covered in ice, like something out of a fairy tale. And if it stays fine Mr Penry says he will put up the rest of the Christmas lights either today or tomorrow.

On the down side there is talk of a petrol blockade - which wouldn't bother me except we have a wedding next week...Can see us sledging down the A470 now, pulled by 3 unruly St Bernards and a Bassett.

Actually I have tried suggesting this to the dogs - the boys are up for it but Florence said only two words (and the second was 'off'). So it's just 2 unruly St Bernards and a Bassett then....

Now there's a thought...

It's a new moon and there is definitely something in the air today. Within the space of an hour we had two calls from people we haven't heard from in months.... coincidence? Maybe.

Has anyone else had something similar today?

I'm getting on with the book again today - actually I work on it everyday, but today I'm allowing myself some extra time. At least, that's the plan. What with the wedding and Christmas/Yule a lot of my plans don't work out as I would like.

Hope to catch up with everyone later!

There are two things you’ve got to get right in life’ said the man in the local furniture shop, ‘Comfy boots and a good bed.’

He may have a point. Anyway, after many many years Mr Penry has bought us a new mattress. Oh – the comfort! Sheer bliss. And I, who have been an early bird all my life, now find I don’t want to get up in the morning.

Actually getting into bed, however, is a different matter. Our bed itself is a very old brass one, with a high frame and a wooden bed-board (which Mr P made years and years ago.) I am very short. This gives me a few problems. The old mattress was considerably flatter than the new one. So – how to get into bed?

I tried to get in as usual and almost pushed the mattress off the frame.

I hurled myself at the bed, wildly grabbing for the far side to stop myself falling backwards onto the floor.

I even climbed (very awkwardly) into bed using a creaky footstool.

Mr Penry reckons he now has the answer. He is threatening to get me a trampoline.

I haven't been online today until now (gone 11pm). It is wet, cold and windy here and I am trailing around playing hunt the drip... not at all pleasant! Oh, for the warmth of summer! Or even the freezing cold of winter but not so much of this bloody rain!

So here is a little verse I learned back in the days of yore to cheer you up if your weather is anything like mine....

The rain it raineth on the just
And also on the unjust fella,
But chiefly on the just, because
The unjust stole the just's umbrella!

Hope to be back again tomorrow and catch up with your blogs!

Brightest blessings
Tylluan

Happy birthday, and hope you're having a great time!

When I was young, it just wasn’t done to admit to being a Pagan. So when I went to school I attended all the assemblies, RE lessons, etc., the same as everyone else.

This meant the annual Christmas Carol Concert, held in the local Anglican Church. All the parents were invited and we sang carols, heard readings from the Bible and some clever clogs got to sing a solo or play the piano.

One memorable year when I was about seven, the annual carol concert came around again and my mother came with a couple of her sisters – which in itself was ominous. Mother on her own was one thing. Mother with an audience was quite another.

Anyway, the service went off well, I thought. We sang loads of carols, some children got to read aloud, a couple sang solos. The church was all dressed up with holly and ivy and Christmas roses. I may have imagined the smell of hot rum, although there were rumours that the Vicar had once fallen off the chancel steps, drunk, a few years previously.

Near the end, just before the final carol, a collection was taken. The Vicar took the plate (it must have weighed a ton, full of all those old fashioned pennies) and advanced towards the altar.

Now I don’t know what the situation is in the C of E nowadays, but back then the altar was positioned against the east wall of the church, and this meant that the Vicar turned his back on the congregation. In a loud, sonorous voice, he gave thanks, said a prayer, and soon we were all on our way to the sound of ‘O Come all ye Faithful.’

Outside however, my mother was almost incandescent with rage. In a voice that could have woken the dead she shouted, ‘Did you see that? Did you? He took all our money off us and then gave it to the bloody wall!’

Call me a daft old bat if you like, but this year we got our dogs an Advent Calendar each. They were on offer in Lidls and the chocolates inside are about the size of a 2p piece (or florin, for those gentle readers who remember our pre-decimal currency).

I decided to be organised about this, writing each dog's name on the calendar so I would know who had had what, and so that Barney wasn't going to be able to cheat. Florence insisted her name was written in copper plate....

The plan was that my one of my granddaughters (who is staying with us at the moment) would dish out the chocolates, but this morning Homer was unable to wait. He knows exactly where the Advent calendars are hidden, so he manoevred around several obstacles, stood on his little hind legs and gently pulled down his own calendar. Nobody else's, just the one marked 'Homer.' I caught him just as he was sneaking off under the table with it.

Homer is unrepentant. He says that reading comes naturally to him on account of his being named after a great literary giant...

Homer in his pre-Advent calendar days....

I came across a really interesting quote by someone called Annie Dillard the other day. 'I would like to learn, or remember, how to live.'

Oh I know that feeling! It's so easy to let everyday things get in the way of who or what we feel we are, deep down.

Does anyone ever get to know the real us, I wonder? Do we? Sometimes I look at pictures of myself when I was young, and thing 'Yes I remember her' or occasionally 'That girl is a stranger.'

Parts of me are so different to what I used to be, and yet other parts are just the same.

Speaking for myself I find that I have to have just a small window of time to be myself, every day or I get really cranky. (And believe me, that's not pleasant!) It's a time when I really do remember how to live, and without it I'm as hungry as if I'd not eaten for days.