TPC issue 11

17 0 2 1 E E1 N JU SSU I

TP C DIG I TA L M AGA Z IN E

THE FALL AARON’S ACCIDENT

WAKING UP DEAD

HAR

BING

ER

MIDGET GEM

l nt a e b lo nm nt G ro e i em v t n a E St

TOWNELEY HALL

Image By Tasha Clark

Dear Readers.

Firstly, I would like to give thanks to my beautiful fiance, Tasha, and equally beautiful, Monique Reichert, for keeping the magazine going while I took time out to heal and recover. I would also like to thank all of you for your well-wishes, and most of all your patience as the magazine was put on hold. I wish I could thank all of you individually but I can’t. I can only say thank you.

We are back and now coming out every three months...this gives me time to gather material for you all (or as the Americans would say “ya’ll”, only kidding).

This month, Tasha and I have plucked up the courage to write our story and what happened to me. We also have three new contributors: Jason Barna, T.A Moorman, and Helen Kalii Davidson.

At the moment there is not the usual in the magazine, this is because we are now almost ready to launch the website. Each time I went to launch I was ill but this time we are ready to launch.

So let me just add this. WE ARE BACK!!!

ron

Aa From

Contents

Pg 2

June 2017

The Fall Pg 34 Music Review: - By Tasha & Aaron Serpentyne Pg 6 Environmental Call For - By Aaron Action Pg 36 Midget Gem Pg 8 Appleby Horse Fair

- By John Robinson - By John Robinson Pg 40 Townley Hall Pg 10 Waking Up Dead

- By John Robinson - By T.A. Moorman Pg 44 Who Is John Awen Pt 2.

Pg 16 Morning

- By John Awen

- By Dawn Ryan Pg 50 Herbal Apothecary Pg 18 Harbinger

- By Jason Barna - By Robin Herne Pg 54 Dictionary of Divination Pg 22 Journey Around Pendle - - By Monique Reichert Clitheroe Pg 58 Shadow - By Penny Robinson

- By Gemma Warburton Pg 26 Prayers & Spells Pg 60 Food & Wine

- By Skelicia Pg 62 What is Hedgewitchery?

Pg 30 Hollywood Cemetery - By Helen Kalii Davidson

- By Monique Reichert Pg 64 Book Review

- By Nimue Brown

Contact Details Disclaimer: The opinions

expressed in this magazine by writers are not necessarily those of TPC or its staff. All articles and artwork remain the copyright Š of the author or artist.

We here at TPC retain typographical copyright on all articles, photos and adverts typeset by TPC or its staff. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine can be reproduced, except for short passages for critisicm or review, without written permission from the Editors.

Layout Design by Tasha Clark, Monique Reichert and WolfsHead Design Studio.

Submissions: Original articles or artwork please send to:

submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com

MEET THE CONTRIBUTORS Jason Barna

We reserve the right to abridge any content and edit for grammar, style, etc.

The editor’s decision is final.

We allow all differant styles of work from polytheism, philosophy, esoteric, folklore, political, religious, events and moots, book reviews, artwork, informative, fiction and non-fiction pieces.

But within reason. We also aim to be a platform for writers, be it new and upcoming writers or those who write as a hobby wishing to publish their work in the public forum.

Advertising Enquiries: tpceditors@hotmail.com

Helen Kalii Davidson

Front Cover Image By John Robinson of Frameousfots.

All Images By Pixabay.com Unless Otherwise Stated.

T.A Moorman

THE FALL

By Aaron Field and Tasha Clark

“For everyone else it was a freezing day with snow outside on the ground, but for my aunt and I, it was just another day for T-shirt and jeans…then Aaron came through the crowd in a suit and thick overcoat and scarf...”

opened my laptop I and as it loaded up I thought, “I wonder if

Aaron’s playing tonight.”

I thought of him more and more as he DJ’d on a chat site I was on; while the music was playing, Aaron and I would chat over webcam. I didn’t want to fall in love with him, but it happened. I tried to deny it was happening, not wanting to announce my feelings until we met in person.

You see, I lived in Australia and was still married with two beautiful children. It was a loveless marriage and very abusive emotionally and mentally, which ended with my ex-husband throwing me out of the house and telling me I would never see the kids again. Throughout everything, Aaron stood by me. He was my rock.

In November 2012, a year and two months after first seeing Aaron on camera, I was at Manchester airport with my aunt Michelle. For everyone else it was a freezing day with snow outside on the ground, but for Michelle and I, it was just another day for T-shirt and jeans… then Aaron came through the crowd in a suit and thick overcoat and scarf.

My heart skipped a beat.

He was not as tall as I had imagined, but that did not matter to me. Here was the man I had fallen in love with. Every day of our holiday was a new adventure as Aaron took us around the UK, first up to Scotland, and then around parts of England. Michelle flew back at the end of November, after twoweeks, and I was meant to fly back the week before Christmas, but Aaron took

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ill with Pneumonia in both lungs and was seriously ill in hospital, coming out just two days before Christmas; his father invited us to his home in West Lothian, for Christmas. So off we went…Aaron, myself, and the two cats, Bubbles and Squeak…for two of the best weeks I had had in a long time.

Eventually the holiday came to an end and I had to go back to Australia in February 2013, and as we kissed good-bye at the airport, I promised Aaron I would be back. Both of us were in tears. Instead of flying back to New South Wales, I flew back to Queensland to stay with Michelle and her partner, while I saved up to book a return ticket to the UK. I worked three jobs to try and pay for the tickets and eventually I had enough

Image by John Robinson of frameousfotos

to book the ticket for Heathrow arriving on April 2014. It was a return ticket, just in case things did not work out with Aaron and me. But I was damn sure it was going to work. On April 24th, I arrived back in the UK, again with Aaron meeting me at the airport. This time, instead of going straight home, we were going to stay the weekend in London, before picking up a hire car that Aaron had arranged…So there you have it. The tale of how Aaron and I met. You are probably thinking it all ends there. You could not be more wrong.

Aaron and I lived in a small town in Lancashire called Brierfield, a quiet town with a largely Muslim population who were very nice people. The shop keepers close to us got to know Aaron and I, many of the kids around the streets knew Aaron from their parents.

Aaron had had a sales job and many of the Asian community were his clients.

The only problem we had was the house Aaron was living in and the fact that the landlord refused to do repairs, which forced us to move. Not very far away, in fact just to the house next door.

A new home…a new beginning.

Or so it was meant to be.

We had moved in in the February and by end of April I was working as a cleaner at a primary school a five-minute walk away. Then in June, after being on a six-month training scheme with the Lancashire Chamber of Commerce, Aaron launched his own business. The new home, the new jobs, it was all falling into place for us. We were happy.

However, on November 11th 2015, tragedy struck. I had only been at work for an hour when Aaron rang the school to say he had fallen down the stairs. I rushed home as quickly as I could and as I took my coat off, Aaron was sitting on the edge of the bed that was down-stairs. We had moved it from upstairs after Aaron had had a minor accident a few months earlier where he had torn all the muscles along his spine due to one of new kittens giving him a fright and making him stand up straight from a crouching position. It had meant also that Aaron had to use a commode downstairs, but he was a very proud man and there were certain bodily functions he would not do, insisting on crawling up the stairs with me

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Image By Tasha Clark

behind him. However, on this Wednesday morning, Aaron had awoken unable to wait for my return and had gone up the stairs himself, he had managed okay, but as he was trying to come down he had suffered a stroke and came tumbling down. I tried to get Aaron to go to the hospital but he refused. So, I let him rest until lunch-time, making sure he did not sleep. Finally, at 12 he called me in and asked me to call an ambulance as his back was very sore and he had a very bad headache. At first, we were told from the 999 call-centre that the ambulance would be 40 – 50 minutes away because of it not being an emergency. I was furious but hung up. During the wait, Aaron slumped to his left side and his face drooped. I rang the emergency services back and they were at our door within five minutes of the call.

Aaron spent two-weeks in Preston without getting any proper diagnosis then was moved to a stroke-rehab ward for a week and was finally allowed home on the 2nd December. During his time in Preston he had lost his long-term memories, to the point of not even knowing who I was, and his short-term memory had also been affected. I was devastated. He couldn’t even remember that we were due to be married on the 14th November. Ten-days after being let out of the Stroke ward, he was rushed back in with further complications. He was suffering from a massive migraine that gave him another stroke. This time he was kept in for a week at our local hospital at Blackburn who diagnosed him with suffering from Hemiplegic Migraines which cause stroke-like symptoms.

Aaron and I both had to give up our jobs, me because I had to become Aaron’s full time carer and Aaron because he could not remember the simplest of things. Even to this day I must help him wash and dress, tell him when to go to the toilet, and on his bad days, feed him or show him how to eat. We thought it ended there.

His sister and mother, who lived in Angus, Scotland, asked us to move up beside them so they could help us out.

And so we did, on May 1st, 2016. However, further tragedy was around the corner. In June, Aaron collapsed again with

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a Hemiplegic Migraine, which Ninewells Hospital thought was another stroke or a bleed on the brain. But it was put down to the severity of the migraines. Then in August Aaron collapsed a second time, this time, while in A & E being seen by a specialist, Aaron went completely blind and became a quadriplegic. After 4 days in hospital he regained the use of his right side and he could walk a little bit, but he still could not see. Aaron was released from Ninewells on the 22nd of August after yet another week in hospital. Three days later, after attending his niece’s birthday party the day before, Aaron’s sister accused the specialists of not knowing their jobs and that Aaron was lying and he could see. She kept shouting at him before throwing him out. Upon seeing Aaron’s neurologist, we were told that a person who suffers from FND (Functional Neurological Disorder) can just go suddenly blind as the brain deteriorates and the wiring gets even more confused. Finally Aaron had the answer to the one question he kept asking. “What is wrong with me.” He had FND and his sister was wrong. She has refused to apologise and has had nothing to do with Aaron for over a year.

It has taken Aaron a long time to get to where he is now. Like other FND (Please read our article: “What is FND?”) sufferers, he has his good days and bad days. However, an added complication is the Hemiplegic migraines which cause him to have mini-strokes each time he is affected. Some of these can last just a few simple hours, others can last weeks.

For Aaron, the longest one has lasted is two weeks.

If you have a fall down the stairs, or bang your head in some other form of accident, don’t wait to seek medical attention. Get it straight away.

WRITERS WANTED!

ARE YOU A WRITER? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN PEN A POEM, A SHORT STORY, OR A REAL-LIFE EVENT? THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? WE WANT YOUR STORIES NOW! SEND THEM INTO

SUBMISSIONS@TPCDIGITALMAGAZINE.COM

email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 5

Environmental Call For Action

By Pagans Globally For manyof us Pagans, ceremonies and rituals fosters a sense of spiritual connection with the Earth. We actively seek out to try and cultivate a harmonious relationship with the non-human natural world. In this time of accelerating environmental change, many Pagans feel a sense of urgency to help transform the human relationship with the Earth.

This sense of urgency drew together a large group of us diverse Pagans, including Pagan leaders, authors, artists, and bloggers from around the world, to draft “A Pagan Community Statement on the Environment.”

This statement has been published at http:// www.ecopagan. com and has been translated into 16 languages. So far, more are signing each day with thousands of people from over 70 countries having signed thus far.

A part of the statement reads:

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“...As part of the body of life on Earth, we care about the health of all parts of the body.

Many human activities destroy parts of the body, and we recoil at them. Cutting down a rainforest is no different from cutting off a healthy leg or arm. In fact, these are even more vital than our arms and legs, because these forests are part of our planetary lungs.”

The statement recognizes, just as we should, the damage that has been caused by humans on the planet, including habitat loss, deforestation, climate change from emission of greenhouse gases, unsustainable depletion of natural resources, and increasing waste and pollution.

The statement then calls for the creation of a culture of “true sustainability.” True sustainability, the statement explains, “does not mean trying to find ways to ‘sustain’ our current levels of consumption or trying to ‘sustain’ economic and political systems which have failed us.” Rather, it means “transforming the systems of domina-

tion and exploitation that threaten our future into systems of symbiotic partnership that support our ecosystem,” which includes: Dismantling or substantially reforming any economic or political system which encourages the exploitation of Earth and people, Moving away from disposable culture toward a renewable culture wherein all products are intended for longevity, repairability, and easy recycling or composting at the end of their use, Creating sustainable, local economies with the shortest distances between production, consumption and recycling of

byproducts, Reforming our food systems for the benefit of humans, other living beings and the greater ecosystem, Distributing resources in a more just and humane fashion, and Ensuring that our human populations are below the carrying capacity of our planet through access to voluntary birth control, and equal access to education and work for women.

Beyond technical and political solutions, the statement calls for a “change in spirit” that fosters “a new relationship between humanity and other species and Earth as a whole.”

email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 7

John Robinson

We had some American friends staying for a few weeks over late May early June, and were wondering how we could entertain them and where we could go.

The weeks leading up to them coming over we had seen quite a few gypsy caravans on the road making their way to Appleby. Problem solved!This would be a great place to take our friends for an experience which would certainly be different. I had been to Appleby a few years prior and remember one of the biggest problems would be how to get there.... either car or train. After a discussion, we all decided to go by train, which would eliminate the biggest headache of parking. Our friends arrived and I told them of the trip I had planned and they were over the moon. I booked train tickets from one stop down the line - Kirkby Stephen. What a good idea this turned out to be. A gentleman in a car on the approach into Appleby was heard to say he had been stuck in traffic for more than three hours just trying to get there!. The atmosphere of the place just has to be experienced. From getting off the train and walking down the hill to the town there’s just something so special in the air. The first thing you notice is sound that comes up from the town that draws you towards it. The sound of lots of people talking and moving about. The sound of hors-

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es running up and down the road, some with carts being drawn behind them.

The smell of food and animal ( horses) drifting in the air. The banks of the river are full of what seems to be thousands of people. Music was playing. A live group playing traditional instruments.

After a short while we made our way along the road where the horses are tethered to the fencing. Bartering is going on as people are bidding to buy them. After watching for a while,we climbed the hill towards the gypsy encampment. This is definitely the place to get your fortune read. Hundreds of the canvas covered caravans are set out in what looks like family groups. The main road that splits the camp is lined with stalls and food vendors where you can buy trinkets to remind you of your trip , or if the fresh air has given you an appetite, there is a vast variety of food from which to choose.Again Irish music can be heard above all the other sounds.

After a good look around we made our way back down the hill to the town. You have to be so careful as the gypsies are racing their horses along the road and are not averse to coming up onto the pavement. If you are unfortunate to be in the way you will be brushed aside.

On reaching the town we made our way to the bridge over the river where we could see the horses being taken to be washed. Some of the gypsies display their expertise in riding here. You won’t see a saddle being used, it was fantastic watching all the skills on display, so we spent quite a long time here. On the way back to the station we passed where we has been hearing the music which was Outside a shop where a group of people were playing Irish music. It was really Worth stopping to listen for a while.

Eventually we decided it was time to make our way back to the station for the journey home where a steady stream of

people were still arriving. We hoped they would enjoy the Appleby experience as much as we had.

After this last visit, I was interested to find out more on the history of the fair. It is recognised as being the biggest traditional horse fair in the world, and dates back to the reign of James ll in 1685, from when it became an annual event.

Originally it was started as a trading venue for all types of livestock, and became increasingly popular with the gypsies. Eventually it became solely for the buying and selling of horses. Today, as well as being the largest horse fair, it is also known as one of the largest gatherings of both Romany and gypsy people. Traditionally it is held during the second week of June, usually beginning on the Wednesday, with the main horse sale being held on the following Tuesday. Leading up to the sale is where the owners have the chance of showing off their horses by trotting them up and down the main streets of Appleby. For anyone interested in the buying and selling, it takes place in a field which goes by the name of Gallows Hill. This can be found on the outskirts of the village, and the sale is usually clinched with a slap on the hand after a one-to -one barter, rather than the traditional type of auction.

i

Want to see the biggest gypsy / traveler gathering in Europe?

Come to Appleby between the 8th & 14th June 2017.

I also came across a poem by a poet by the name of Talis Kimberley called “Appleby Fair” well worth googling!.

Image by John Robinson of frameousfotos

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Images provided by T A Moorman

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: When you become a Mom, you begin to put yourself last, and your combat boots begin to collect dust. Going to your child’s PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon.

Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness.

So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, and designs in her jewelry sold in her Etsy shop, GothicMoms DarkCharms.

Mother of five beautiful children, but by far more than just that. T. A. Moorman is an artist, a violinist, a seamstress, a crafter, a writer, a blogger, a reviewer, a dark confidant and a darkly dangerous, fiercely protective friend.w

...........................FOLLOW T.A. MOORMAN’S ALL NEW AND EXCLUSIVE, “WAKING UP DEAD” MINI-SERIES ONLY IN THE PENDLE CRAFT...................

email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 11

12 TPC - The Pendle Craft - June 2017

pixabay

You ever wake up and wonder whether or not you were still dreaming?

Well, that’s exactly how I felt on Christmas Eve. I woke up, but I didn’t feel quite awake. I felt completely starved and dehydrated though. Luckily for me there was some food left right on the bed I woke up in. Once I bit into it though, all I wanted to do was suck the juices out of it, so I did just that. Not every last drop, ‘cause I wasn’t felling too great. Sort of felt like I had a hangover, but not, felt really disoriented, like my body wasn’t mine, and it was starting to ache all over.

Opening my eyes, I realized I didn’t quite make it home last night. I had gone to a Christmas Eve party. I wasn’t in the mood for bringing in yet another Christmas either alone or with my batshit crazy family, the only thing they would be doing is arguing. I will never understand those people, the only holiday they can ever get along is Halloween, on Christmas everyone chooses a sparring partner for the day. Anyway, it wasn’t a regular party, it was one of those secret sex parties where whatever happens, happens, and you don’t kiss, or screw, and tell. Almost always it just ends up being a bunch of people that are only all talk.

This one had been different. It was in one of those ritzy hotels in the penthouse suite, the kind that

took up the entire top floor.

There was a certain vibe that hit you as soon as you walked through the hotel doors. Someone was in the lobby to escort guests up as they came, since the elevator won’t even let you get to that floor without a key card. I probably should have known something was off with this party when I walked right in and there were no disclosures to sign. A party that had to have cost a few thousand to set up with no cover charge meant someone who had some money to throw around was backing it, and someone throwing around that kind of money would usually know to make sure all legal ramifications were taken care of.

Once I walked in, all thoughts of anything else remained outside. I don’t even recall if there was any small talk. There was music and laughter, drinks, joints, and blunts being passed around the entire place like candy. People having sex everywhere, while others were playing cards, dancing, just having fun in whatever way that pleased them.

The group I ended up with went into the master bedroom, how many of us, and how many drinks that I had remain a blur right now.

But I do remember that a couple of them, or maybe it was just one, was really into biting. It was feeling so good that I might have gotten a few bites in of my own. I was so not myself. I mean, yea, I do usually get

a little wild at those type of parties, but this was different. It was like something in me was breaking free, finally getting a chance to just let loose.

We must have gone at it all night long. Like I said, everything is just choppy still. The more I try to remember everything that happened the more I seem to forget. All I can really think about is this all-consuming thirst. Good thing for me there seems to be an endless supply of thick juicy meat surrounding me right now. And it’s so tender that my teeth sink right in with no problem, like my canines are tiny steak knives or something.

I think I hear people talking around me, but my mind is in such a fog right now. I can make out snip bits, but that’s all. Later I would learn that one of those people talking wasn’t even in the room at all, rather on the other end of a telephone conversation, about me.

“Boss, we got a real problem.”

“What do you mean we have a problem, what’s going on, Butch?” This was from the other end of the phone call, and he didn’t sound very happy. Though his crisp, clean, and stern British accent did sound sexy as sin. “It’s a simple clean up. If there’s a human there still, take care of it.”

“Well, that’s the thing, I’m not sure she’s human.

Ouch!”

I heard a loud snarl then,

email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 13

and I think I just bit the brute, he was trying to take some of my food away. He could damn well get his own.

“Take that back, I know she ain’t no human, the chick’s fangs are as big as my sisters!”

“Fangs!? Humans can’t be turned Butch, not unless…” He trailed off then. Either that or I just couldn’t hear him anymore, because that’s when the true pain decided to kick in.

All I could hear for a while was a blood chilling scream that I realized came from me once I had no more breath left to scream with. Once I started hearing their words again, I didn’t register anything they were saying until much later.

“Get her out of there, now!” This came from Mr. Sexy Voice. “Get her to the nearest portal, that female is transitioning. Get her to a portal, and get her here!”

“What about these bodies? What’s left of ‘em anyway. This chic is acting like she’s at a smorgasbord, when she isn’t stoppin’ to scream, or snarl at us when we try to move one. You should see what she did to this one dude-” “You blooming idiot. She is transitioning, and not only that, she’s been living amongst humans, so probably has grown up with no blood in her diet. Whoever raised her probably thought she was just anemic or something. She may just be a Halfling, and the dickwad who threw the party started her transition and either didn’t realize it, or fled without even giving a damn. Now get her here so we can take care of her, I’ll call another bloody clean up crew!” Mr. Sexy was starting to sound angry with the brute.

“Jackie! Get in here and help me with this chic!”

Well, it took more than just him and Jackie to wrestle me away from all of my glorious food. As much pain as I was in, I still didn’t want to let it all go to waste. Awe, those succulent pieces of meat were so full of delicious warm juices. So, of course my naked ass did not go down without a fight. That’s why I started wondering yet again if this was all just a dream. Seeing as how I not only kicked and screamed, but I also clawed someone’s eyeball out, with literal claws.

Not only that, there was no way in the world I should have been able to fight them the way that I had. I was only five feet and three inches, two hundred and twenty some odd pounds. I may not have been sloppy fat, every pound was in the right spot, but I sure as shit wasn’t in shape to be fighting like a pro wres-

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tler. One of them I remembered throwing clear across the room like he was no more than a sack of potatoes, another I kicked in the knee so hard his shattering bones echoed throughout the room.

When they finally subdued me by knocking me across the back of the head with an iron lamp, they wrapped my entire body in chains. The brute picked me up and non-too gently threw me over his shoulder. They took me out some back way, must have been a delivery entrance of some sort, I’m assuming to draw no attention, to a waiting van. Throwing me into the back they began arguing over who would be stuck in the back with me.

Once it was finally decided we went for a drive, how long it took is beyond me.

Without my juicy snacks all I could focus on was the pain.

Finally coming to a stop I snapped at whoever it was that drew the short straw of dragging me out. Upon reaching our destination I felt tiny pinpricks along my naked and chained up flesh. Once I saw one of them step into a set of trees and just seemingly disappear, my mind had had more than enough and I promptly passed out.

I don’t know how long I remained unconscious, but when I came to for few moments a few realizations slapped me in the face. On Christmas morning Gina Jacoby had woken up dead, because my life as the human I thought I was, was now null and void. But my existence as a vampire was only beginning.

pixabay

......LOOK OUT FOR MORE FROM THIS INTRIGUING SERIES IN THE NEXT EDITION......

email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 15

MORNING

By Dawn Ryan Images provided By Dawn Ryan

Misty, cool morning Quietness abounds Creatures gently stir As shafts of gentle light pierce the damp forest I shove my cold hands deep in my pockets My feet gently trudge along the worn deer path As dew covers my boots Thickets and brambles reach outward trying to halt me As the majestic oaks release their burnished leaves guiding me on, further and further Exhaling little puffs of icy smoke escape me Stopping for a minute, my eyes look upon the wonder of the majestic woods Little chipmunk’s see me and scatter under thick logs A huffing noise greets me, startled but not scared Before me I gaze upon a hulking creature, a majestic stag It is a site to behold it’s antlers rising upward from it crown, his brown coat shimmering with sweat As it’s shiny dark nose breathes out the morning mist, while his black eyes regards me...silently, its hoof stamps the leaf covered ground we stare each other down.

Him unsure, myself amazed In the distance , a snort echo’s in the morning light.

I blink and he’s gone, like a ghost A magical moment, in the morning

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Knight Of Cups

By Dawn Ryan (aka O’Rian’s Tarot Musings)

Hello my lovelies!

Today’s card drawing is the Knight of Cups; cups deal with the feelings, it’s a water sign so that’s Pisces, cancer and Scorpio.

This card means an opportunity may be presented to the seeker. The arrival of a lover, appeal, approach, creativity, inspiration. This card also represents balance objectivity and outlook. Sincerity, harmony and equilibrium.

Blessed be .

O’Rian’s Tarot Musings

https://www.facebook.com/ DawnMorgrannia/?fref=nf

A page dedicated to the magical and mystical wonders of the old ways that have been forgotten and in the new ways that are emerging in this present time..

Once long ago I found my way with a deck of cards (tarot)and since then I been on a fasinating journey of enlightenment. I founded this on the principal of helping,teaching and sharing with others the ways of the old beliefs.My calling has enriched my life and I want share in my knowledge and wisdom , just as I will learn from others. Our destiny on this planet is to learn to love one another. This planet to me is a giant library where we all partake in each others wisdom. Blessed be

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HARBINGER

By Robin Herne

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I

am a creature of the winter.

Sleet ran through my veins from the day I was born, ripping my mother from me even as she nurtured the ember of my life with her dwindling heat. The Others watched her die, cautious of approaching until they knew I was utterly alone in the world.

That was when they marked me as their own, and I changed. I can never be fully one of them, but nor am I entirely what my mother bled to make.

Hairs grow from the place where they touched me, thick and dark. Yet when the change comes on me the hairs not only grow denser but paler until they are the one white patch in a gun grey pelt. In their language they call me Harbinger and they watch me intently, for they say I act strangely in the moon tide before the weather changes, twitching and snarling in my sleep, disturbing their deeper slumbers in the niches and crevices beneath the earth. I become a barometer, read by creatures with eyes like mirrors.

Late summer weighs heavily on me, the memory of the deep earth offering such tempting solace that I cannot resist seeking out caves and shadowed glades during the sunlit hours. Yet when the craving wakens me, that unrelenting yearning that drags me from cool sanctuary into the dying heat of summer to sweat and stagger and stumble about, then I can feel the blizzards coming.

Harbinger is always the first to fully waken, and it is my job to prepare for the Emerging.

We are always hungry after hibernation and need to replete our wasted forms, the Others even more than I. It is my duty to stock the larder, otherwise they will not be able to control

themselves in those first days.

It is unwise to thin the herd too heavily. The feeding frenzies are terrible to behold; I once saw an entire hamlet drained, their frigid, twisted corpses thrown into the drifts.

Some might feast blindly, glutting on whoever comes their way. Some fools might wage vendettas, targeting chosen prey to sate the need for vengeance.

I have chosen the path of the connoisseur, and I provide my kin with only the choicest of tastes. When I was but a child I wandered in the storm for what seemed like days, until at length I chanced across a wayside inn.

The aromas from within were tempting, and I reverted to the shape my mother had given me.

As I peered in the window at the patrons huddled about a fire, a woman peered back out and we both startled the other to such a degree that she shrieked and I fell backwards into a drift. Moments later she and her father, the landlord, were hauling me out of the snow and into the stifling dryness of the bar room.

recoiled from my corpse-cold touch and complained bitterly that her husband must have left the door open, though all could see it plainly barred. Starvation nearly overwhelmed predatory prudence, but good fortune led one of the wall-eyed old drinkers to drag me back towards that suffocating hearth before I had drained all the heat from her flabby carcass. She collapsed shivering and cyanotic into a chair, eyes never straying from me even as her customers indulged the poor lost child who hacked his lungs raw ~ though from the dryness of the hot air, and not the cold as they assumed. I supped upon the drinkers, but only a little from each.

Enough to remind them of the world beyond the stout walls, and by then I’d had enough fill of the landlady to need only a morsel from the rest. It was also enough for me to assess their flavours, some bland, some distasteful, one riper than a wellhung pheasant.

They asked question after question about how I came to be wandering in the snow, who my The younger woman fussed parents were, what had become and bustled, exuding a sweetof them and so forth. I did as the ness and warmth that made my Others taught me, whimpered stomach rumble ~ so loudly, in and stared wide-eyed and innofact, that she at once brought me cent at the prey. The cattle took food of the sort that I could bare- pity on me even as I drained the ly keep down. Kindness is such warmth from their bodies. Really, a rarity that I could not bring there was so little challenge in it myself to rebuff it, and struggled that I was in danger of becoming to swallow the stew. Her mother bored. was of an entirely different ilk, burning with a corrosive disdain There were four customers that drew me to her even as she alongside the family who owned grimaced at what she deemed the place; two toothless old men an unwashed cuckoo in her nest. who lived on neighbouring farms Where the girl acquired her and who clearly had loathed the goodness, I did not know, for her sight of each other for years; a father oozed nothing but weaksurly physician who tasted of willed indolence and avarice. regret and something that I only years later came to identify as The suet-fleshed matriarch morphine; and his hulking son email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 19

~ a lad so naĂŻve and wide-eyed as to be almost simple-minded. Heat radiated from them, and I could have basked in it all night had I not heard the Others whispering on the winds.

Talk changed to the harshness of the season and the need to preserve their livestock and which would be strong enough to make it through to spring. That was when the termagant, glaring with balefire, announced that she thought the weak should always be slaughtered before they became a drain on others. The patrons, and even her family, squirmed with embarrassment as she hissed lethargically about the burden that the weak imposed on others, all the while my lungs rasping with the smoke.

Since that night I have followed her suggestion, selecting the weak ones to sustain the pack. The rest grow stronger, freed of such onerous burdens. The weaklings burn brightest with an erratic, furnace heat flavoured by the iron tang of their hatred and sadism, the stale Verdigris of their envy, and the sulphurous stench of their rapaciousness.

She would have been the first to stock the feeding chamber that year, had she survived the walk through the snows. I may have drained her too heavily at the inn for numbed and confused as she was when we left the tavern, come the early hours of the morning, before we were even halfway home she made a stumbling effort to flee from me. I should have retained my childish form, instead of becoming Other ~ the shock must have broken my hold over her mind. Screaming, she struggled across a frozen river, taking a dozen steps before the ice cracked and she crashed through into the furious currents beneath and was lost to us. Doubtless some bear found itself a tasty treat several miles downriver.

I was compelled to retrace my footsteps and claim the scrawny, toothless old farmer who reeked of his own granddaughter. How he managed that journey, I cannot imagine. Every rasping breath sounded as if it might be his last, but on he staggered following my guiding voice until we reached the cave. There he slept, fitfully waiting for the time when he gave up his heat during the Emerging. His cold bones, like those of countless others, became fit only for wolves to gnaw upon. wwOf course I cannot guarantee that I will always be able to harvest the weak, maybe one day I will run out of them and have to hunt for the strong and seriously deplete the bloodstock. However, I

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do not envision that day coming any time soon.

MODEL: TANYA PHOTOGRAPHER: JOHN ROBINSON OF FRAMEOUSFOTOS

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Images By John Robinson Frameousfotos

JOURNEY AROUND PENDLE:

CLITHEROE

BY PENNY ROBINSON

C

litheroe is one of the main market towns found at the foot of Pendle hill, with a population of around 15,000. The main road, as most of the others is on a quite steep incline, and at the top of the hill can be found Clitheroe Castle.

This particular castle is reputed to be the smallest Norman keep in the whole of England, as well as being one of the oldest buildings in Lancashire. The exact origins of the castle are uncertain, but it has been said Robert de Lacy was responsible for its erection in about 1186. The keep itself is only 20 feet square, yet the walls are 10 feet thick.

Although the three storeys to the castle remain, over the years it has lost most of the roof. For those interested in Norman keeps, there is a museum at the foot of the grounds which goes in to the his-

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tory, with exhibits on show of the site.

Although the castle is open to the public free of charge, there is a small admission fee to the museum, which was awarded “ Best small visitor attraction of the year in 2010/11.

From the castle, just a short walk away is one of the best sausage shops to be found. It boasts over 70 varieties of sausages with flavours as diverse as Pork and Pineapple to Lamb Mint and Rosemary, to Pork and Blackstick Blue cheese. This shop has been in business for over 120 years and had been in the Cowburn family for over 5 generations.

What also makes these sausages special is they are all made from locally sourced ingredients. A shop to be recommended!

From Cowburns, just another short

stroll down the hill is another specialist shop, D Byrne and Co. This shop is mainly for the wine connoisseur!! This is again a family run business, and has been passed through 4 generations, over 130 years of experience. From the front, you could be forgiven for thinking this to be just an ordinary run of the mill shop. It is, in fact more like a Tardis.....

Bigger on the inside than the out. This is thanks to the warren of underground cellars. There is approximately a choice of over 3000 wines, not to mention the numerous whisky, champagne, and other spirits on sale. Not a shop for the faint-hearted!!

If alcohol is not on the menu, there is another drink shop which is of interest, mainly to the coffee drinker! The Exchange Coffee Shop. Just open the door

and inhale...the rich aroma is literally breath taking! The coffee comes from all over the world, and the shop boasts over 30 different varieties, as well as over 60 types of loose tea to choose from.

What makes this such a speciality shop is the beans are roasted by hand in small batches to ensure the freshest possible coffee. If the smells whet your appetite, there is a lovely old fashioned coffee shop upstairs which sells the most wonderful array of sandwiches and pasties, with, of course, a great cup of coffee!

With such fantastic shops to be found, obviously, there are many more to see, then it should come as no surprise Clitheroe hosts a Food Festival in August which is recognised as being one of the top ten in the country. It is estimated over 20,000 visitors will enjoy the expe-

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rience, with over 120 food producers, chef demonstrations and street food to be enjoyed. For anyone interested, this year the Festival will be held on August 13.

Overall, Clitheroe is a wonderful town to visit, and even got a mention in Most Haunted, the Pendle Witches episodes as the studio with audience was set up at St Mary’s centre in Clitheroe. From here the 3 episodes from all over Pendle were broadcast to very varied reactions! There is a lot of history to this very old market town, and I think well worth investigating.

Did you know that in 1652, inspired to climb

Pendle Hill near Clitheroe, George Fox claimed to have a visitation from God, later writing: “From the top of this hill the Lord let me see in what places he had a great people to be gathered”? Forty years earlier it had witnessed rather less holy goings-on, with the alleged activity of witches there ending in the famous Pendle Witch trials and executions. Fox began to lay down the foundations of the Society of Friends or Quakers.

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Prayers and Spells

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by Skelecia

S

o here’s an interesting topic that I’ve decided to venture down the path of this time around. Mysteries in the religions...what’s that you ask? Well, it’s basically everything that we, or our religions, decide to explain in the strangest of terms. Some of these terms include “prayers”, “spells” and the likes. So what this article will be about is the similarities, because there are similarities, and differences between my religion (Christianity) and yours (Paganism, or Wicca if you’d like). Instead of saying that we have nothing in common, or that we do, simply because Christians used to be douchebags back in the time (everyone has skeletons in their closets, or to quote the saying “God, save me from your followers” because some are a bit crazy), I’ve decided to open your minds a bit if you’d like, and not brush everything away as things only “belonging to one religion”. If God works in mysterious ways, I’m sure he works across our differences and tastes of what feels like the right path to each of us.

Prayer and Spells Prayer is basically a Christian’s way of talking with God. We ask Him to bless our families, heal the sick and forgive us all our sins, because we never stop messing up. It is our link between ourselves and God. Prayers can be used for basically anything, you can ask God for anything, and He will give 1 of 3 answers; yes, maybe and no. All in God’s time anyway. How to define God? Not as a man with a white bird up in the sky watching us all the time, although I’m sure he could put on that image if he’d like...but God is so much more. To us He’s the whole trinity, our God is 3

in 1. Pretty awesome, eh? It’s God who created us in his image, the Father... then it’s the son, Jesus, who brings us to salvation and is our reedemer, and then it’s the Holy Spirit, or Holy Ghost, the one who helps us understand God’s word and is the sole reason for Christians being able to heal people by simply placing their hands on ill people and pray them well, in other words, the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of God who moves into anyone who accepts Jesus as their saviour. Of course there is a lot more, but I guess this is the basics. So when we pray, we tune into that holy

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sanctuary of our connection with God. When Pagans do spells, they write them down and then use the power of the words as a statement and call upon the archangels for protection spells or Mother Earth or any other deity they believe in. They also use the watch towers North, East, South and West and the elements; fire, air, water, earth and spirit. Incantations and chants are also used to state any intention they want to make happen by casting a spell.

They draw their powers from nature or higher forces. Some prefer to work with energies instead, raising and directing them towards their goal. We’ll get more into the basics right away.

bit easier to help you achieve your goals and making you ready at the same time.

Of course visualizing getting a job will probably lead you to getting one and earning money that way, but the best way is still to just apply to them instead of picturing it in your mind, but by all means, visualize how you want to write your applications.

Visualization is always used in spellwork, how else but to cast a spell but visualize it first, put your intention into it, and then just do it? You might get results instanly or you will have to wait a bit, but the results will eventually come.

The same basics apply for prayers.

Praying usually means you have an idea or a visualization if you’d like, about what you want to talk with God about. Then you send your thoughts out Faith and Intention (intention) and wait for God to reply. A lot of Christians will say that visualizing Both faith and intention are needed for things to get what you want is wrong, both spells and prayers. Without them, but they don’t realize that’s what they do they would hardly ever work, unless every time they pray, the only difference whatever God or Gods we’d choose to of following ones ego and putting your pray to decided to grant it to us anyway. thoughts to God is just that, a matter of For the best results however, these are intention. needed in all religions.

We all know our intentions are what Without faith, we would never believe makes things good or evil. If we have an that anything of what we were trying intent to harm someone, that is evil. If to achieve would work. You can look we have an intent to protect someone, upon a source, have an idea about it, that is good. If you cast a spell to harm and think it might work out, but this someone, you don’t do so with good only gets you so far. Faith means having intent. Likewise, if Christians were to trust that things will work out, even if hate someone, they don’t do so with a it might defy common logic. Everyone good intent either. If you were to cast has heard the phrase “faith can move a spell for someone else’s protection, mountains,” but what exactly does that that would be good. If Christians are mean? It means that if your beliefs are praying for their enemies instead of strong enough, you can do whatever hating them, that is good. Hate, in the you set your mind to, as long as you’re end, only gets us so far. That doesn’t confident that it will work out. Which mean you shouldn’t protect yourself brings us to intentions. Having an against harmful people, there is a intention means you have an aim, a difference. If you are in any danger, by goal. This is usually achieved by having all means, protect yourself, but do so a visualisation first. Maybe not always, with protection rather than sending but most of the time, what we want harm someone else’s way. There are two starts out with a visualisation. We picture sides of a coin and we are the ones who it in our minds, we contemplent it, and gets to choose which side to use. Which we get to choose whether or not we want leads us to the last subject I’ve decided to make it real. Once we have made our to bring up. minds up about setting our visualisation into reality, we need to find the best way to make it happen. Planning ahead also takes visualisation as we need to Law of Attraction visualise it and get a feel of how we want it done in the right way that best fits The infinite mysterious law of us. Visualisation is simply the process attraction. Call it karma. Call it a higher of forming mental images and we can power. Call it whatever you want. No visualise whatever it is we want. I’m not matter what one calls it though, it stays saying visualizing money will make you the same; whatever you send out comes rich, but it might make your life a little back to you. Everyone uses this. Daily.

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Period. Ever heard the saying that thoughts become things? They do and they like to grow in size and feed off our ignorant minds.

The law of attraction means that you get what you attract. Whatever you believe to be true, whatever you have faith in, whatever your intention is, it will come true, one way or another.

Every moment you spend with negative or bad thoughts, you are unconsciously practicing black magic, or evil if you’d like. This too goes for all religions.

Sooner or later, it will return back to you, because you sent it out, and it kinda works like a boomerang or a lost puppy, it wants to find its way back home no matter what. One saying goes like “if you knew how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought”. This is truer than we might imagine. If we don’t harm someone else with our thoughts, and even if they don’t always manifest, the worst case scenario is that we might believe them no matter what and they will then become our reality. If you have positive thoughts, you will get blessed tenfolds.

I’m not saying you’re not allowed to have a bad day and be gloomy and dark and what not, we all do, and we all have days where our thoughts wander off and we think about all kinds of stuff. No one’s perfect. Our thoughts never are either. But the good news is that once we recognize these thought patterns, we can change them. We can use them for good if we want to. It’s an amazing power to be able to tap into as well, especially once we know what it is we want and how to use it. It’s not a “new age” trend or a “whacky thought experiment”, although those are cool, but that’s an entirely different matter. The Law of Attraction have been around forever, but it seems like they have finally put a name on it.

The good news is that Pagans knows about this law and how to use it. The bad news is that Christians don’t, or, most don’t. Christians have a tendency to blame things on the devil, especially awesome stuff like this. And when prayers do come true, it’s a “stroke of luck.” The Bible tells about this law as well; “as a man thinks, so is he,” proverbs 23:7. Whatever you think, you become. Another one is “and all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believe, you shall recieve it,” - Matthew 21:22. It doesn’t get more obvious than this. Of course one can argue endlessly

about having to pray to the “right” God, but let’s not dwell on that topic.

Point here is, you ask for what you want, expect it will be given to you and have certainty that you will be given it. “Ask and ye shall recieve.” One of the tricks is also to act as if you have already been given what it is you want, don’t just sit around and wait for it, pretend you have it. Eventually it will manifest.

So live your life, believe in whatever God or Gods or deities or what it is you believe in, since in the end, this is the way we connect with the higher forces in life, and the Law of Attraction is just that; a law. It’s explained differently in every religion, but it all comes down to the same eventually. It doesn’t take away the Christian God or the Pagan Gods, Goddesses and deities...it’s just a way for us to tune into it, bring miracles into play, and stand in awe of it all as we stare up at the night sky one starry night, amazed at how it all works out.

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HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY

BY MONIQUE REICHERT

Richmond, Virginia is home to the second most visited cemetery in the United States; second only to the Arlington National Cemetery. In 1847, William Haxall and Joshua Fry, enlisted Philadelphia architect John Notman to design the cemetery. Its name came about from the enormous amount of holly trees that can be seen lining the hills that surround this exquisite property. These 135 acres, Garden style cemetery, is home to some of the United States most notable; including six Virginia governors, two Supreme Court justices, two American presidents, twenty-two Confederal generals, and thousands of Confederate soldiers, and countless loved ones, that once called Virginia home.

Notable “guests” that call Hollywood Cemetery home, include President James Monroe, President John Tyler, Jefferson Davis, the only president of the Confederate State of America to be laid to rest in Hollywood Cemetery, beneath a life-sized statue. One of my favorite monuments within the large cemetery, is the “Monument to the Confederate War Dead”. You cannot help but be overcome by its enormity; standing 90 feet tall. This granite pyramid stands as a reminder of the 18,000 soldiers of the US Confederacy that perished, lay at rest in Hollywood Cemetery. A favorite of many, is the cast iron Newfoundland Dog statue that stand guards. Watching over the grave of a young girl, who passed over in 1862.

Images By Monique Reichert

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While taking in the beautiful intricacies of the thousands of headstone, statues and grave markers, you can hear the gentle sound of the James River, rolling along the outer edge of the property; a little whisper, rushing past the Mausoleum. The names of countless children line the walls of the humbling Mausoleum. Toys, charms, mini sandboxes; little trinkets left by those that have come for a “chat”, at the final home of their babies; given their wings too soon……their existence memorialized as a reminder of the frailty of life.

final words on the headstones that span 100’s of years, the humbling of the tiniest of graves. Being able to touch and talk with those that have long since crossed over, feeling their spirits wandering, watching; allowing the energy enveloping you.

Interactive tour information can be found at: tour. hollywoodcemetery.org Sources:www.hollywoodcemetery.org

Anyone with a love and appreciation of cemeteries, must add Virginia’s Hollywood Cemetery to their list of locations to visit. The site offers numerous options to tour the large estate. I believe however, to truly embrace its beauty and grace, you must walk…. Each step, each curve. Reading the email: submissions@tpcdigitalmagazine.com 31

Images By Monique Reichert

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First, I would like to thank our good friend, John Awen, for putting me onto Maggiebeth Sands and her band, Serpentyne. I thought I had heard of them before, but I was wrong. But am I glad I have heard of them now.

Serpentyne are one of those bands that, when first looking at the band line-up, you think they are a bunch of OAP’s trying to be young again. But boy can you not be more wrong. They are middle-aged ordinary folk, who are very much still young at heart and their music proves that. On doing a write-up for this review, Maggiebeth Sands classed the band as symphonic folk rock. But I would disagree and say that they are much more than that. They have such a wide range of vocal and instrumental talent that they are not just “symphonic folk rock”, they are everything in between. Folk, Medieval, Rock, Dance…

Formed back in 2010 by Maggiebeth Sands and Mark Powell, the band has been growing stronger over these seven years, starting with their first two albums: “Stella Splendens,” and “Myths and Muses,” now with their third album “Serpents’ Kiss”, the band has found themselves restructuring and bringing in more heavier guitars and softer vocals. I personally think this has helped lift them to newer heights and feel that the band still has a long way to go, not in the sense of growth and learning, as they have already surpassed that, but in the sense of bringing Pagan music to the ordinary people.

You can find Serpentyne on youtube. Give them a listen and I can guarantee you will want to go back for more. I did.

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Band Line-Up: Maggiebeth Sand - vocals Mark Powell - hurdy-gurdy Mark Jenkins- Keyboards Matthew Damian - guitars Nigel Middleton - bass John Haithwaite - drums Links: www.serpentyne.com www.youtube.com/serpentyne www.facebook.com/serpentynemusic www.twitter.com/serpentynemusic email: serpentynemusic@gmail.com or:

contact@serpentyne.com

Images By Serpentyne

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MIDGET GEM

BY JOHN ROBINSON

In 2000 I was looking for a project. I’d always been interested in motor sport so no surprise it would be an old car. I was told about this MG Midget that was in a garage in Liverpool. The person who owned it had started to rebuild it and had just got too much going on in his life so was never going to complete it. Off I went with a friend to have a look. This friend was also going to be the person who did most of the difficult work. Well we got to the garage and had a look. Yes he had started to rebuild it but there was a tremendous amount of work still to be done. After a brief consultation we decided it was a project worth doing. I came back home and told my wife all about it and she announced that she would buy it for me. For this I was very grateful. The following week

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we borrowed a van and trailer and off we went to Liverpool, the key to the garage in my pocket. We opened the doors and moved a large amount of junk from in front and on top of the car and managed to Push it out and got our really first proper look. Silence enveloped us which we put down to absolute shock! It had 4 wheels on and an engine in the right place but that was it. It was stripped right back to that. Everything else was in boxes. This began the biggest jigsaw puzzle I’ve ever undertaken. The doors, bonnet and boot were in the car. There was only one front wing but the seats were there.

The windscreen was lent against the wall along with the door windows. There was no floor in it. The dash we found along with all the dials and switches behind the car on the floor. We winched it onto

the trailer and placed all the boxes and other items in the van. We took it home and then the hard work began!

The first job was to see if the engine would turn. It did so with a little petrol a good battery and a little luck we decided to see if it would start. After a little persuasion and to our surprise it fired into life. Over the next couple of months we went through all the boxes looking to see what was missing. Luckily not much. We had located a car in a scrap yard and went for the missing items, the wing being one of them. We took the head off the engine and sent it away to be converted for lead free petrol. All 4 cylinders were scored quite deep which meant another engine block would have to be found.

After months of work it was finally ready to go for its MOT. It passed. We were then road legal. I drove it around for a while waiting for any faults to develop and after a month or so entered it for its first event. A road rally called The Fellsman. I’ve done quite a lot of rallying in my time but always in the passenger seat as the navigator . I got a friend to navigate for me and off we went. This is when all the faults that could develop would come to the surface. The first thing was the number plate which is a metal square one. Normally not a problem but as it hung below the back of the car we kept knocking it off and had to retrieve it. This seemed to persuade the exhaust to want to drop off at regular intervals as well! We had brake problems and clutch problems. I suppose with the car being idle for fifteen years things

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were going to wear. Still besides my navigators best efforts to get us lost we got to the finish in a respectable position.

Back to the garage for more things to be put right. We found a new engine block and a local race and rally specialist did a little work on it for me. I replaced the pedal box as this had been the reason for the brake and clutch problems.

We were back up and running. Time to really put the car to the test so a long weekend on the isle of Mull in Scotland seemed ideal.

It was a freezing cold February morning when we set off. We took the decision that we would wrap up well and leave the roof down. That didn’t last long. The windscreen froze on the inside as well as the outside. Once the roof was up we had no problems as it was a great run up along Lock Lomond. By this time the top was down with the sun shining on that cold frosty morning. We went to Oban and got the ferry to Craignure.

The car ran brilliantly without a hiccup.

We had three great days touring around the island.

The car had been on the road for over twelve months now. Time to look for some more events to do. Over the next five years we did lots of fun runs plus a few serious rallies around the country.

We came back with a few awards for finishing high in our class.

I was involved in a local hospital radio at this time and decided we would do a sponsored run to Inverness. We sold advertising space on the car to raise money for breast cancer and ran the sponsorship along side Asda. This was very successful. We set off Saturday morning

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phoning in to do a live commentary every hour on the way. There was a small crowd to see us off and we ended the day doing a live link from Inverness radio back to Burnley radio. The best call back was from the top of Glen Coe with the piper playing in the background as I explained where we were. All in all very successful. We repeated this the year after but to John o groats taking three days this time. Again very successful.

I was spending money each year to keep on top of everything. The car had been on the road for twelve years being used to raise money and being driven hard rallying. Time for some bodywork repair, the most important job being a total re spray. I took the car off the road and put it in the garage. It sat for two years till I got myself together and sorted it. It’s now a lighter blue and is now a blank canvas as it has no writing on it....

That could change ....... In the meantime I met Tasha and Aaron so I took Aaron out for a run around in it and he fell in love with it. The last couple of years it’s just been used for a run out on a nice day.

Images By John Robinson, frameousfotos

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TOWNELEY HALL

BY JOHN ROBINSON

T

owneley hall today is a museum and art gallery. It stands in 440 acres of land which includes two golf courses, 24 acres of woodland, playing fields and a working farm.

The main entrance to the park is within a mile of Burnley town centre. The river Calder flows through the park and there’s the Deer Pond, a local nature reserve.

The Hall had been the home of the Towneley family for over 500 years and was purchased by Burnley corporation in 1902. In 1903 the hall was opened as an art gallery and museum.

The Towneleys remained a resolute catholic family throughout the reformation, hence the priests hole. A large part of the hall is as the Towneley

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family would have lived in it with many rooms decorated with period furniture.

The kitchen has to be one of the high lights as It takes you right back to the days when it was fully staffed. The attic was the staff dormitory. The Towneley family is brought back to life today by re-enactors. Richard Towneley was one of the people behind the founding of the Greenwich Observatory. Francis Towneley - who is featured below - Was the last person in Britain to be hung drawn and quartered. Charles Townley was one of the 18th century’s famous collectors of antiques. He became a

trustee of the British Museum in 1791, and after his death, The museum acquired his famous collection by an Act of Parliament which was the museum’s first major acquisition of classical sculpture.

Like any self respecting Hall Towneley has its ghosts. The most famous is the white lady who wanders the battlements.

Sir John Towneley is said to roam the rooms. There is also the phantom dog which Is believed to be the size of a small donkey. As well as ghosts, there were also supposed to be Bogarts roam-

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ing around the top road at the back of Towneley , which was known as Bogart Bridge.A Bogart actually lived by this small stream, and demanded a payment from travellers before they could cross. Then a compromise was reached whereby the bogart could keep the soul of the first thing to cross a bridge so local people sent hens over. The Boggarts claimed it. Evergreen shrubs were planted and the Boggarts was never seen again.

Towenley hall and the Townley family have both been an important part of Britains rich history and heritage. The hall is now owned by Burnley Borough Council, and is open to the public most days. As a tribute to the Townley family, the lace wars who are an historical group, stage re enactments of the Jacobite rebellion in the grounds of the hall.

This took place during Heritage and Woodland day in September.

Francis Townely of Towneley hall Burnley came from an old Catholic Lancashire family. Born in 1708 he had been a child page to the dowager queen of Spain. In 1728 he was commissioned into the regiment of Limosen in the French army where he saw 15 years service including the siege of philipsberg. In 1743 he came back to Britain and in 1745 as Bonny Prince Charlie was advancing south aiming for London he joined the Princes army at Preston on the 17 th November 1745 bringing about 60 men with him. The army continued to Manchester where he raised about another 80 men which was the Manchester regiment. On the 1st December the army moved south to derby. By this time the Manchester regiment numbered about 300 and Francis Townely had been made colonel. It was the only English contingent in the whole Jackobite army. A fateful decision was made at Derby to turn back to Scotland and on the 6th December the retreat commenced. They retraced their footsteps back through Lancashire where a number of those who joined thought it wise to disappear . By the time they reached Carlisle just before Christmas 1745 they numbered about 110 of all ranks. A small garrison of about 400 men was left at Carlisle. This included the Manchester regiment. Colonel Towneley was

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made governor of Carlisle and Colonel Hamilton governor of Carlisle castle.

The English army reached Carlisle on the 20th December and waited for the heavy artillery to come from the Cumbrian port of Whitehaven. They then lay siege to the city of Carlisle. After breaches were made in the castle walls Colonel Hamilton thought it wise to surrender.

Towneley knowing what would befall them wanted to fight it out but was over ruled. Consequently they surrendered on the 30th December 1745. The officers were held as prisoners at the castle and other ranks in Carlisle cathedral. In due course Towneley was transferred to Lancaster and ultimately London.

He was incited for high treason, tried and found guilty. On the 30 July along with 8 fellow offices he was executed by the prescribed method for treason, hanging drawing and quartering. After being hanged for 6 mins he was taken down but was still alive. His executioner then struck him on the chest to stop his heart but this didn’t work. His throat was then slit. After the decapitation and quartering his head was displayed on a stake alongside one of his fellow officers in fleet st at the western gate into London. The heads of the others were distributed around the country, some in Manchester. Colonel towneleys head was retrieved from the spike in London and returned north back to his family home, Towneley hall. For many years it was kept in a secret compartment in the chapel at Towneley hall. In more recent times it was removed and buried in the family vault at St Peters church in Burnley.

Images By John Robinson of Frameousfotos

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I reluctantly started attending Sible Hedingham Comprehensive School in September of 1980. Once again I just knew that I wasn’t going to be enthralled by having to endure another five years of enforced incarceration and having to mix with people that I didn’t want to be with, another trait that has been with me from a very early age. It is not that I feel I am better, or worse than anybody else, I have just never been able to suffer fools gladly and I cannot see the point, or any benefit to being cooped up with people that are not of the same mindset as I am, I see it as farcical and a total waste of time and energy, on both sides.

The Comprehensive, or Secondary School I was attending was in the village I lived in, so it was only a walk away, taking around twenty minutes, depending on if there was any mischief to be had, or other distractions along the way. This was the largest, at the time, school in the area and children came from many outlying villages to attend, most of them had to catch a bus to attend and again to return home.

The numbers attending this school, were around 1,300 pupils, which for a village school, was a lot, all aged between 11 years up to 16 years of age, plus a handful of slightly older children, who for whatever reason, thought it would be a good idea to become what was known then as a sixth former. I never understood why and how anybody would willingly volunteer to stay on in school longer than they had to, but then we are all individuals and on varying levels of our different and personal journey.

I remember clearly that first day of a new school. Signs were up out on the road and through the school grounds, indicating that all new pupils to go to the school hall, then there was arrows pointing the way. Once we had all entered this new world and collected together in the school hall, around 300 of us, it daunted on me that this was real and in fact I only knew around 30 of these children. Looking around, I can recall the faces gazing towards the floor, so many of us felt like the proverbial fish out of water, unknown quantities, people, teachers, other pupils and the whole building we were held in seemed fairly daunting and Dickensian. I didn’t like it one little bit, but then nobody did really if the truth is known.

I remember a Batman type figure, wearing a long black cape walking onto the stage, he was carrying a cane and he bellowed out in his best, trying to intimidate voice, would we all sit down and be quiet. He made himself known as the headmaster and we were to refer to him as Mr Cobb, or Sir. My choice was made then; I would call him Mr Cobb as I don’t think anybody should be called Sir, it undermines others and is only a projection of ego and corruption.

Once we were all seated and relatively quiet, we were told that once our names

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Image by Aaron Field

WHO IS JOHN AWEN PART 2 APPROACHING TEENAGE YEARS AND ONWARDS

were called, we had to go and stand with our selected first year teacher, who would then traipse us like sheep through the school to our allotted classroom, talk about feeling like a clone, it was farcical and I suppose it had to be that way, to me though, it was annoying and simply felt painful, like pulling teeth and simply going through the motions, which I really did not want to have to endure and go through, I did though and so it began.

A new school, new surroundings, new faces and a new chapter in my life.

After several weeks, another routine was placed upon and around us all. Different teachers for different lessons, various classrooms and where the school was so large, it was easy to be late for lessons, more so obviously for the lessons I didn’t like, which for me, was most of them. I always enjoyed English language lessons and miraculously, I was always on time for that, at times even early, funny that. I did enjoy Maths up until the point where we started algebra, I didn’t like it after that and just ignored the lesson, the teacher and often just used to get up and walk out whenever the mood took me. I started to enjoy History as well, it was the headmaster Mr Cobb who taught us history and he was a rare teacher who could install that spark within people, encouraging and inspiring them with a passion to learn, I tip my hat to him for that and all credit to him.

The first couple of years at this school passed without many incidents, obviously there was fighting, causing trouble to a minor degree, testing the teachers, making new acquaintances and going through the lessons, or not as the case may be, on the whole it was fairly mundane, then again I was finding myself once more and seeing which buttons I could press and what limits I could cross.

My home life was good, no complaints there, I had my Mum, Dad, Sister, who I never got on with and still don’t to this day. I had pets and was allowed relative freedom to explore and venture into the vast expanse of the beautiful countryside of which I know I was blessed to have grown up in. There was fields, ponds, rivers, old bomb shelters, secluded areas, several children the same age as each other, or relatively similar ages and we all enjoyed all there was on offer to us. As youngsters growing up, you always have differences of opinion, that’s par for the course and to be expected, so ensued lots of fighting, arguing, teasing, bullying, name calling and all the other usual stuff that children that are starting to develop, on all levels, come to face, endure and experience.

Strangely enough, I didn’t have any dealings with the local Police for a few years, but that wasn’t to last too long.

One of our favourite pastimes and mischief making, was to go into one of the small shops in the neighbouring village of Castle Hedingham and steal smoke pellets, which when lit were incredible and you only needed to light one and you couldn’t see anything around for several minutes. A few of us would do this fairly often, and then throw these pellets under cars, in peoples gardens, into public toilets and such like. It was funny and its strange how we seemed to be so blatant about it, if we got shouted at, we simply shouted back, then ran off, oblivious to any damage, or accidents we could cause, but there you go.

By the age of 13, I had a morning paper round. I really loved this as I have always enjoyed the early mornings, plus I was earning my own money, at the time it was £3:50 a week, coupled with the grocery round I did 4 nights a week after school, which paid me £4:00 a week, for the early 80’s, it was ok. Take into account the fact that I always had a

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constant supply of pens, pencils, cigarettes, tippex, magazines of any description, which I took to school and sold, all extras from my early morning paper round, stolen from the Newsagents of course, I often had around £20 a week to spend, so I never went without.

appreciate now is, that I wasn’t bad, I just had an awful lot of excess energy and didn’t know how to channel it properly, so it came out in different ways to how others live and act. This was nobody’s fault; it was just me making the most of what and who I was.

It was around the same age, around 13 years old, that with my newly acquired and constant source of money and free cigarettes, I started going into the local pubs in the village, of which there was about 5, all of which freely served me and I have never once in my life been asked how old I am, which was perfect. I remember often having to get drinks for

Sometimes, one of us, between my friends and myself, out of nowhere, we would get hold of a moped, or small motorbike of some description and then we would take it in turns to roar around one of the local fields, going as fast as we could, often with no seat, or brakes on the machine, but brilliant times and enjoyed many times by us all for hours.

It was one of these times that I was to be shot for the first time. There was around four of us, we had one motorbike, which we would take turns on and we had an airgun as well, also to take turns with. I was flying round the field on the motorbike and refused to get off, I found this hilarious and one of my friends decided to point the airgun at me as I whistled past, almost taunting each other. As I went past once more, I got within about six foot from him, the next thing I had crashed the bike and was writhing on the floor in absolute agony, I had been shot.

people older than me, as they couldn’t get served, I used this to my advantage, obviously and would either get a drink for the favour, or at least the change left over. I used to drink pints of light and bitter as I had worked out with there being no official weights and measures in place, you could get about a pint and a half for around 80pence, which was brilliant value and after 2, or 3 of those, you felt quite intoxicated at that tender age.

Life was good; I had a good and stable home life, friends, pets, money and a good social life, not bad for someone who lived on his wits and instinct most of the time. My poor parents though, they must have despaired constantly at my antics and I remember my Mum often used to try to tell me off and then she would ask me where she had gone wrong, bless her heart. The thing I can

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All I could feel was my left leg on fire and at that age, it was the most excruciating pain that I could remember experiencing. The pellet had gone straight through my jeans, there was lots of blood and the pellet was embedded in my leg, about an inch deep. Years ago, there was no regulations on the ferocity that an air rifle had to be limited to, so it was like being shot with a bullet, it really did hurt. I managed to hobble home eventually and showed my Mum, who was horrified. I said I had fallen onto some barbed wire, all I could think of.

There was no way she believed me, especially when, using tweezers, she managed to remove the air pellet, but I never revealed what had actually happened and after she dressed it and did so for several days, no more was said about it.

What you have to remember while you read this, back in the 70’s and 80’s when I was growing up, life was so very different, we were always getting into bumps, scrapes and such like, you just got on with it and carried on. Times were more innocent back then and there was so much more natural space to play, explore and be a part of. I am so glad I

grew up where and when I did, it was brilliant and there was never a dull moment. Always somewhere to go, friends to see and antics to be had and enjoyed.

I know I was blessed to be born when I was and there isn’t a single aspect, or part of it that I would change and looking back now upon my whole life to this point, I wouldn’t change a thing. If I did, I would not be here now and could not be who I am today.

Let me take you back to school now, from when I was 14 years old, things start to liven up significantly now.

From the age of 14 and while I was school, it was becoming very clear and apparent to me personally and others around me, parents, teachers and friends, that I would not just go along with anything and if I could raise my head above the parapet, for anything, then I would, regardless of any consequences that may come from this.

The realisation that school could and did provide an ideal situation and constant scenario for me to constantly push to the limits and far exceed them was fuelling me and basically, even though I was bought up to have manners and I did have, I was not prepared to conform, or endure anything that I did not agree to, or with. I was kicking back at anything that did not serve me well, or I didn’t perceive was for my greater good.

I was finding myself, embracing myself and this is a trait that is still resonating within me to this day, even though I do manage nowadays to quell the fire raging within me.

I now only had two years left of having to attend, or endure this school and I now played by my own rules, not theirs.

All the subject teachers knew that they had two choices with me then and it was showing more and more. We would all line up outside the various classrooms and when the teacher turned up to open the classroom, they would all ask me, did I want to come in, or did I want to wander around the school ?

They were fully aware that if I went into the classroom, then I wouldn’t give them any trouble and was genuinely interested in what they had to teach, or show us.

The only lessons I really enjoyed at this time, was English language, History and Woodwork, the rest I just didn’t see the point in, or I dismissed the teachers as

bully’s and on the rare occasions I was made to have a lesson, of which I didn’t enjoy, I simply created as much as possible, ensuring that I soon got asked to leave anyway, so even when the odds were not in my favour, I won, one way or another, simple.

At our school, there was a large block which housed all the science classrooms.

One of mine and a couple of friends favourite tricks, was while there was break time, when everyone was outside, we would sneak in and turn on all the gas taps on the desks. As soon as break finished, the teachers would come out of their staff room, which was sandwiched in between the classrooms, they would smell the pungent gas, suspect a gas leak, the fire engine would be called and all lessons would be cancelled for the duration of this. Back then, the teachers openly smoked in the staff room and at times, in the lessons. How our antics didn’t result in half the school being blown sky high still amazes me to this day. We continued this at least twice a week and it carried on until I left school.

Very dangerous looking back, then again though, the consequences were not always thought of back then and though I was a real pain, I never wished any harm or malice on anybody. I just saw it as a game to play and stick a finger up to the system which I did not agree with at all.

With most of my time now at school being spent idly wandering around on my own, gesticulating at my friends

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incarcerated in their class room’s, I was slowly getting bored and there was no way I was going to conform and join in, I just needed to find something else that would fuel the fire raging inside me, not to cause harm at all, just to satisfy my urge of getting one up on the system.

Petty crime started coming more to the forefront at this time. I was still stealing cigarettes, magazines, etc from the Newsagents where I worked, but that didn’t register as a crime to me then, it was just a bonus that ensured I could always have money in my pocket.

I was 15 years old now and I remember one hot day in the summer, there were four of us together and we were enjoying jumping in and playing in the local river. We spotted, in someone’s garden nearby, a four man canoe complete with oars, brilliant. We blatantly carried it from the garden and went rowing up the river; it was absolutely great until we ran into the Police further up the river.

Unbeknown to us, we had been reported stealing the canoe and the owners had phoned the local police, who were waiting along the river for us to arrive paddling our stolen canoe.

All four of us were arrested and driven, via police car, to the local police station where we were all put in a room together while they phoned our parents. None of this bothered me in the slightest and once our parents, in my case my Mum arrived not looking very happy, we were taken into an office where we were all charged and received a caution for what was known then as TDA. This meant we had to behave, or next time we could end up in court. The charge was a bit vacant really, TDA meant taking and driving away, maybe it should have been changed to TRA for this offence as we definitely did not and could not have driven the canoe, oh well; it does make me smile even to this day.

My crime spree continued and at night, myself and one or two friends would search out open factory’s and disused buildings, hoping to find some cash, or other goodies to pilfer, remember I was just over 15 years old at this stage.

We had quite a bit of success in doing this and made quite a lot of money, well back then and at our age it was a lot of money. The only drawback was and I can see it more clearly now, I have a very addictive nature and personality, so

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I needed to fuel this as often as I possibly could. It was easier back then; there was no cctv and no security guards, so it wasn’t exactly mastermind crimes, just opportunistic and very cheeky.

A friend and I were bored one hot day and we were plotting something to do. It was a bank holiday weekend early on in the year and we ended up walking into the school, mad really. I avoided walking into school when I was supposed to, yet here I was entering on a long weekend at my own will, how mad is that?

As we strolled through the empty and deserted school, we were trying all the doors, but they were locked. We ended up after a while in the smallest corridor in the school that housed the cookery rooms, or what was referred to back then as domestic science. Here we found an unlocked door, which was great as once inside this room, we could walk through in to the others, as they were only separated by sliding partition doors.

Within minutes we found an open filing cabinet which within the bottom drawer, we found about 6 large jars, all containing money, notes mainly. Looks like we had hit the jackpot here. My friend disappeared and I was left counting and sharing out the money. I remember it now; there was £1800 mostly in notes.

I had never seen, let alone handled that amount of money back then. Just as I had counted out and put the money into two equal piles of £900, my friend came back and I burst out laughing, he had been using the facilities to make us both scrambled eggs on toast. So there we sat, trespassing in the school we attended on a bank holiday weekend, with £900 each that we had robbed from the school, enjoying a meal of scrambled eggs on toast, unreal and I still laugh at this now.

As we left the school, trying our best to blend in and look inconspicuous, one of our friend’s older brothers drove past us, having recently passed his driving test. I remember it now, he had a Morris Minor car, he stopped and we got in. He was on his way to a party, so we decided to go along, especially having all this extra cash; we could make it a great party.

We stopped at a shop on the way and bought what we thought would be well needed and appreciated supplies, cigarettes by the carton, and alcohol by

the crate, accompanied with packets of bacon, sausages, cakes and sweets. We arrived to find it was a school friend’s house, whose parents had gone away for the whole weekend, silly people.

The goodies we had purchased went down a treat and celebrations were ignited once again upon our alcohol being freely passed around, the party had almost dried up as the parents, whose house it was, alcohol supply was limited and had already been consumed. You can imagine the carnage that was obviously all around, created by about twenty children ranging from about 11 years up to about 18 years old, it was mad?

It was a great party, food, drink, friends, and fires in the garden and creating mischief really, it was great. After about 24 hours of being there, someone shouted out that the Police were at the door, we all went a bit quiet and realised that the constant music was probably way too loud and a neighbour had maybe phoned in a complaint, that wasn’t the case though. Once the door was opened, the Police called out two names that they wanted to speak to, my friends and mine. Oh well, that was our party over then and we were both arrested, placed in a Police car and driven to the local station.

The invariable wait while our parents were phoned and arrived seemed to take forever, we were both still very drunk, also suffering from a hangover, which wasn’t very good at all. Once our parents arrived, my Mum in my case, we were questioned separately and it transpired that the caretaker had seen us leaving the building, had phoned the Police and that just left it down to them to track us both down, which only took a day. After admitting to it all, we were both given a caution for burglary, which didn’t really matter at all to me, I didn’t care and the bonus of it all, they never took the remaining money from either of us, which was for me about £800 still, never did understand why they let me keep it, but there you go.

I must admit I did find this whole scenario very amusing and funny, it was like a badge of honour back then and something to be proud of, which I was at the time. After a few weeks, I was expelled from school because of this, plus I think the whole school and the teachers had simply had enough of me, plus

there were only a couple of months until I left anyway.

This created a slight problem as I was listed to take four exams and was expected to pass. This was overcame though as I didn’t go and wasn’t allowed into the school until the dates of my exams. This became farcical, as the exams I took were, English and History ‘ O ‘ level and Woodwork and Maths C.S.E. I still don’t understand how I was put down for the Maths exam, but I took it anyway.

On the days of these exams, all different days, I had to sign a document to say that I would wait at the main school gates at the allotted time, and then wait for the Police to turn up, who then walked me through the school and into the sports hall, where all the exams took place. This was just a joke and obviously performed to make an example and a spectacle of me, that didn’t work, I laughed at it all and it all added to me character. Once each exam was finished, I was collected by the Police and escorted back through the school and off of the property, a total display of farcical behaviour on the parts of all concerned and like I said, I didn’t care and it still raises a smile to this day.

The outcome was good, I passed all my four exams with a grade 1 and out of all of them, the only one of them which has helped me in any way, is the English language exam, which was a foregone conclusion anyway, as I have always loved English and still do to this day, as a writer, that is obvious and speaks for itself really.

So after five years of enforced incarceration in the clone factory which I saw school as, I was now free to do what I wanted to do and the world was becoming a very interesting place to be. I was now almost 16 years old and it was about time I found a job.

Look Out For Pt 3 in September’s Issue Images Provided By John Awen (PP 46-47)

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50 TPC - The Pendle Craft - June 2017

HERBALISM WITH JASON BARNA OWNER OF PHEONIX APOTHECARY

Greetings Readers! This is the first of what I hope to be many informative articles on Herbalism. Allow me to introduce myself, I am co-owner of Phoenix Rising Apothecary you can find us online at http:// www.phoenixrisingapothecary.com/store

I along with my fiance’ have been practicing herbalists for quite a few years we don’t have one specialty but rather bring our own unique specialties to the table with mine being a bit more into the alchemical nature of herbs and hers being the healing and medicinal nature of them.

That being said any information given on the medicinal properties should be looked at as one aspect of them and you should consult with an herbalist (us!) before taking any herbs for medicinal uses.

We’ll start off with the basics of cultivation and preparation of herbs.

The most important thing to consider when cultivating your own is where you live..for example we’re located in Central Illinois in what is classified as USDA Zone 5 for plants. The USDA zones are what you can expect to grow and be able to survive outside in the winter. The other thing we consider when planting is what the plant prefers as far as habitat..sun/ shade, soil conditions, etc. The final thing is whether the plant is native ..we tend to prefer native cultivars of plants since they’re adapted to our region and good for the local wildlife (and your less likely to

introduce something that could upset the environment such as what has happened in the deep south here in the US with Kudzu!).

Once you have selected your plant and location the next thing to know is when the proper time to harvest it is .. some plants you can harvest from in their first year (such as Elder if you’re harvesting berries) others may take a few years to be able to harvest from (Elecampe usually takes about 3 years before you can harvest the root). Time of year is also important for effectiveness of the herb some you want to harvest in the fall others in the spring some even in winter!

Once harvested the next step is if you want to use it fresh or dried. If fresh make sure to clean the herbs well (just use warm running water) . We use two methods to dry our herbs, first is air drying, we have drying racks made from simple 1”x2” boards and window screening (Fiberglass screening works best) Using this method generally takes one to two months to dry depending on the weather. We store ours on a covered porch to allow air movement but protect from the elements. The second method we use is a food dehydrator this method generally only takes a day or two depending on what we’re drying and is just as effective for smaller leaves, bark, and berries. Roots

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we alternate methods but have found using the dehydrator to be the most effective.

Once your herbs are dried and ready for storage you can use mason jars to store them in (any airtight glass container works) this allows for easy labeling of the contents and allows for easy identification of what is in each jar. Most dried herbs will last for a year or two in a sealed container in a cool darker environment.

The next part of this article I’m going to talk about wild crafting herbs and what that means. Simply put Wild Crafting is harvesting wild grown herbs from the wild! This holds appeal to folks that do not have a lot of land to grow their own. We respect the choice to do so but ask you follow these simple guidelines. First keep in mind where the plant is growing, is there other like it in the area? You don’t want to dig up a plant that might be the only one of its kind in that location! It may be intentionally planted for reasons unknown to you. The second is related to the first.. where is it growing? For example you may not want to harvest from a plant that’s close to major road as the exhaust fumes may contaminate it. The third major thing is responsible harvesting ..this means don’t take more then you need! While a plant may seem to be abundant in an area, ecosystems are a delicate balance. Plants provide food and shelter for various animals and insects ,some of which may be dependent on a single type of plant, so make sure to leave plenty for them! The absolute most important thing to remember is if you can not positively identify a plant leave it alone! There are several lookalikes in nature some of which are very poisonous and can cause great harm or even death if misidentified.

I do get asked about harvesting according to magical practices, while we do not follow a specific method relating to magical harvesting, we do follow guidelines as to when the best time for the plant is and of course we do offer thanks to the earth for allowing us to harvest.

The most important thing above all is to respect the plant and your environment! If you have questions as to what is native to your area reach out to your local agriculture department or equivalent (I’ve even asked local farmers!).

As to preparation! I’ve found for larger leaves,

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bark, and roots using a very sharp knife or a decent pair of scissors works well to split/cut them up, for smaller leaves and berries once dried you can store them as is until you’re ready to use them.

If you have any questions please feel free to email me at phoenixrisingapothecary@gmail.com Images Provided By Jason Barna

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For Enquiries Please Email us: tpceditors@hotmail.com

MODEL: LYDIA PHOTOGRAPHER: JOHN ROBINSON OF FRAMEOUSFOTOS

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DICTIONARY OF DIVINATION: D-K

BY MONIQUE REICHERT

54 TPC - The Pendle Craft - June 2017

THERE ARE A VAST NUMBER OF METHODS OF DIVINATION. MANYHAVE NEVER BEEN HEARD OF BEFORE, LET ALONE ATTEMPTED. SO, FROM THE POPULAR, THE FAMILIAR TO THE OBSCURE AND “DARK.” HERE IS THIS ISSUES LESSON IN DIVINATION, PICKING UP WITH D & ENDING WITH K, WITH MORE TO FOLLOW IN THE NEXT ISSUE...

ENJOY!

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D dactyliomancy: divination by means of a finger dactylomancy: divination using rings daphnomancy: divination using a laurel demonomancy: divination using demons dririmancy: divination by observing dripping blood E emonomancy: divination using demons enoptromancy: divination using mirrors eromancy: divination using water vessels extispicy: divination using entrails F floromancy: belief that flowers have feelings G gastromancy: divination by sounds from the belly geloscopy: fortune-telling by means of laughter geomancy: divination by casting earth onto a surface grafology: divination by studying writing graptomancy: divination by studying handwriting gyromancy: divination by falling from dizziness H halomancy: divination using salt haruspication: divination by inspecting animal entrails hematomancy: divination using blood hepatoscopy: divination by examining animal livers hieromancy: divination by studying objects offered in sacrifice hieroscopy: divination using entrails hippomancy: divination using horses hydromancy: divination using water hypnomancy: divination using sleep

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I ichnomancy: divination using footprints ichthyomancy: divination by inspecting fish entrails iconomancy: divination using icons idolomancy: divination using idols K kephalonomancy: divination using a baked ass’s head keraunoscopia: divination using thunder knissomancy: divination using burning incense

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“SHADOW” Every time I look in the mirror What do I see?

My shadow, all hazy Just a glimpse of the old me I see darkness surrounding A lost & lonely girl Stood there in her hooded cloak Shielding from the pain of her new world A reflection of scars A mind full of fear Will it come back?

Are the voices I hear Anxiety swirling like a tornado Through my bones I can feel my legs shaking Knelt down so alone Black streaks down my cheeks Tears stinging my face Will I ever accept it?

My shadow of disgrace

By Gemma Warburton

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FOOD

CHICKEN WITH HOMEMADE NOODLES/KOTA ME SPITISIES HILOPITIES Serves: 4-6 Need: 2 whole fryer chickens 2 medium onions, chopped 1 garlic clove, minced 1 can whole tomatoes (28 oz) 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 1 cup good sherry 1/4 pound butter salt & pepper Cut the chicken into serving pieces and brown in butter; season with salt and pepper; add onions and garlic clove and saute until golden brown. Add wine and tomatoes and simmer, covered, over low fire for 45 minutes. Remove chicken to platter and keep warm. Parboil homemade noodles for 15 minutes; drain and simmer them in the sauce in which the chicken was cooked until tender. Sprinkle noodles with a dash of cinnamon, cover and let steep for another 5 minutes. (if using packaged noodles, parboil for only 10 minutes.) Serve noodles with chicken and a bowl of grated cheese, pairs well with an artichoke salad and white wine.

WINE

MOSCHOFILERO (PRONOUNCED MOS KO FEE LE RO) GROWN IN THE PELOPONNESE REGION OF GREECE, IT IS A CRISP AND AROMATIC WHITE WINE WITH FLORAL AROMAS, LIKE ROSE, WITH SPICY CHARACTERISTICS, AND A NICE ACIDITY.

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ATHENIAN SALAD/ SALATA ATHENAS Assorted Greens (lettuce, chicory, watercress) tomatoes, chilled, peeled and quartered cucumbers, peeled and sliced green onions, thinly sliced anchovies Greek kalamata olives capers sliced radishes Dressing: vinegar, olive oil, oregano and fresh mint.

Arrangement is more important then proportions for this classic Greek Salad. On a large platter arrange the greens in the center; cover them with a row or rows of slice cucumbers; sprinkle them with chopped onions and capers; surround them with sliced radishes; encircle the edge of the platter with tomato wedges and anchovy strips intermingled. Garnish with olives.

2012 SKOURAS MOSCOFILERO, PELOPONNESE, GREECE FRESH, FLORAL AND CLEAN, WITH HINTS OF HONEYSUCKLE AROMAS. ZESTY AND CRISP IN THE MOUTH WITH BRIGHT ACIDITY WITH A SLIGHTLY BRINY FINISH.

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WHAT IS HEDGEWITCHERY?

BY HELEN KALLII DAVIDSON

The term Hedgewitch itself could possibly be derived from the Saxon word for witch, haegtessa, meaning ‘Rider of the hedge’ That term conjures up great memories inside me, for I was bought up in Cornwall, in the more gentle landscape of the South eastern coast there. The history of the hedgewitch seems so well suited for this part of England with is woodlands endless fields and sacred monuments surrounded by seas. The hedgewitches of old would have used this abundant landscape within their craft, they were the midwives, the healers and the wise women of their time.

They would of offered protection, house blessings and preservation of the local livestock.

They were greatly respected for their abilities and the power they held in tune with both nature and magic. In these ancient days its quite probable that they ingested intoxicating plants to aid them in contacting their spirits in order to help assess situations.

Many things have changed between what the ancient ones knew and what we know today, but it is a path that has changed little in other ways. We still hold on to that connection we have with nature feeling more at home in the

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countryside then we ever do in cities.

My childhood in Cornwall was a magical one and fills me with warm memories, I spent my days walking the beaches for shells and stones that would then grace a very simple home altar. Very different to the altars of today, it was not dedicated to any chosen deity, it never had all the usual tools we find on them, no athame, no wand.. No chalices, just simple things we found in nature, that showed the honour and respect we felt for it.

Herbal knowledge came whilst walking in the woodlands and fields that surrounded it, a plant, a tree, a flower would be pointed out and I would tell my knowledge of it, if I did not know I was told firmly but kindly all about its uses, mostly in magical terms but sometimes in a medicinal way.

I would spend hours in the local wood which started at the end of our garden, I would be out in all weathers (though we never did have snow) I watched how the weather effected the woods and the animals that called it home, I would listen intently to the call of nature, the smells, the colours, the feeling that it left me with, It was so calming, it was home.

Meditations became second nature too in the warmer months either in the

fields, on the many quiet beaches or a carefully chosen tree, I would commune with the elementals and call upon spirit guides.

In these young days I was taught how to make charms, not the kind you can buy in abundance these days in either bottle or silver charm types, but actual charms made from leaves, bark, plants and flowers, tied up with string, sometimes a spell concealed inside, sometimes sealed with coloured wax. I was taught how a charm would aid the person asking in various ways, they would range from simple ailments and colds, to charms placed within the home to guard, protect and cleanse.

calls to you in the most profound way and you have no name for it.. Maybe now you do, maybe you are a hedgewitch too.

Image Provided By Helen Kalii Davidson

These days I live in Lancashire, I run the Real witches of Pendle facebook group to meet up with other witches in this very famous and beautiful area.

I co-own a business Pendle Spiritual Centre that offers many workshops of spiritual and witchy nature, my days are spent learning and teaching, the hedgewitch path is one I choose to take alone, though it is far from lonely. Its an old path with modern influences, if nature

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BOOK REVIEW

IMAGES BY NIMUE BROWN

ELEN SENTIER & BRITISH SHAMANISM

BY NIMUE BROWN

Elen Sentier is an author whose work spans fiction and non-fiction, and who ranges widely within the non-fiction category as well! She teaches Awynedd work and blogs about her lived Paganism. She’s a fascinating person with a lot going on – falconry, drum making, hers is a life lived close to the land and in meaningful contact with the ways of her ancestors. Her pagan work is tremendously popular – she has two titles exploring Elen of the Ways (Elen of the Ways and Following the Deer Trods) and has also created a book exploring the idea of Celtic Chakras. I think the Celtic Chakras title was the first one of hers that I encountered – I’m not personally into chakras, but it was such a fascinating idea that I read the entire book!

Elen’s Trees of the Goddess is a really good starter book for anyone wanting to work with a tree calendar. It’s a lovely way of approaching the wheel of the year and making deeper connections with nature.

Elen has a wealth of family folklore and tradition to draw on – she shares a lot of stories about recent ancestors and

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the wise folk of her childhood village in all her books. Her background is rich with insights rooted in traditional and the British landscape, and this gives her a foundation for her writing and thinking. I’ve spent time with Elen and talked about land and learning, and she comes across as someone who is deeply intuitive and in touch with her roots.

Elen is an enthusiastic biodynamic gardener, and has written a non-fiction title about that as well, aiming to make biodynamics accessible. Gardening with the Moon And Stars is widely available and like all of her books can easily be tracked down online.

I admit it’s the fiction I get most excited about. I’ve read two of Elen’s novels – Owl Woman and Moon Song. Her work is beautiful, romantic in the broadest sense of the term as well as the relationship sense. It’s not just love affairs between people, but love affairs between people and landscapes, which I adore.

Her fiction is absolutely steeped in folklore and rooted in the British landscape.

There’s a tremendous sense of place in her writing, and the way in which history and geography combine. We play out or stories in the places of our ancestors, and what went before cannot help but shape that which is to come.

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THINK PAGAN RADIO! HI LET ME TRY AND EXPLAIN THE PHILOSOPHY BEHIND THINKPAGAN RADIO. IT’S BEEN MY PERSONAL BELIEF THAT ONE OF THE TENETS OF BEING PAGAN IS THAT OF STANDING APART FROM THE CROWD , IN NOT ACCEPTING CONVENTIONAL WISDOM WITHOUT CRITICAL ASSESSMENT. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE A PAGAN IN THE SPIRITUAL OR RELIGIOUS SENSE BUT IN THE WAY YOU VIEW THE WORLD. IF YOU DARE TO BE DIFFERENT , TO THINK DIFFERENT , TO DRESS DIFFERENT. APPLYING THIS PHILOSOPHY TO MUSIC IS THE AIM OF THIS PROJECT. WE WILL TRY TO PLAY MUSIC THAT IS DIFFERENT , LESS MAINSTREAM , PUNK AND GOTH , FOLKIE AND TECHNO LOOPER ARE ALL WELCOME HERE. THERE WILL BE SOME PROGRAMMING DIRECTLY AIMED AT THE PAGAN COMMUNITY , I MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR THIS , I HOPE THAT AS SOMEONE WITH AN OPEN MIND YOU MAY CHOOSE TO LISTEN AND MAKE YOUR OWN JUDGEMENTS. HAVING SAID THAT , IT’S TIME TO LISTEN. VISIT US AT WWW.THINKPAGAN.NET OR ON FACEBOOK: h t t p s : // w w w . f a c e b o o k . c o m / T h i n k P a g a n - R a dio-172734179736170/

Image Provided By Think Pagan Radio

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