Daily Archives: November 21, 2017

The Star of St George…


In a green hill,

the hollow green hills,

a dragon sleeps, tonight.


The red cross on the white shield of St. George is made up of red scales like the scales of the red dragon that wakes at the foot of St Michael’s Spear.

The red cross on the breast of St. George’s white breast-plate is made up of red scales like the scales of the red dragon whose forked tongue licks the root of St Michael’s Spear.

…And since when did the Archangel Michael become a Saint anyway?

Since the wings from the dragon subdued by St George became the self-same wings unfurling from his shoulder-blades.

Red as blood in the fight the fiery dragon rises

Pinioned and led, fled from earth to pole.

A posited pole that starry spear… arrowed straight to light… eddying out… to and fro… back and forth… body and soul… to soul.

For the sight of the night pole leads to the flight of the light soul.

In passion fled…red to red…unbled.

A bright, spear point fed…

to the dragon, red.


In the dark skies,

a hollow dark sky

the dragon sleeps, tonight.


Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

St George, ORC

“I know what links St John the Baptist, St Christopher and St Catherine…”

“You do?”

“They were all beheaded.”



“How did you get from Baphomet to Sophia?”

“There’s a cipher, you convert Baphomet into Hebrew letters then apply the cipher and… voila!

“Could the Knights Templar have known that?”

“I don’t see any reason why not. They were in Jerusalem long enough to have familiarised themselves with both the Hebrew language and the Kabbalah and they had a reputation for delving into arcane subjects.”

“St George was beheaded too.”

“Why didn’t I know that, he’s the Patron Saint of England, why has no one told me that our patron saint was beheaded?”

“I bet no one told you he was Turkish either?”

“No wonder we never win anything.”

Wen giggles. “But what does it mean?”


“All these beheaded Saints.”

“I don’t know what…

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A Woman of Power and Substance

The Silent Eye

Bess of Hardwick montage fullAA

It is the winter of 1584. The well-dressed woman watches as her fourth husband storms out of the dining hall at their present home, Tutbury Castle, in Staffordshire.

In the corner of the room sits a younger woman, now smiling at the angry departure of the man of the house–the sixth Earl of Shrewsbury. The seated woman with the secretive smile has good reason to be pleased at the turn of events. She has been a captive in this house for nearly fifteen years and used that time to create mayhem with sexual politics. Her name is Mary, better known as Mary, Queen of Scots. Her fortunes are diminishing by the month.. But that hasn’t stopped her using human emotions, particularly jealously, to drive a deadly wedge between the Count and Countess, her gaolers.

The lady of the house is already one of England’s richest women, in fact she will…

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Backstone Circle – a Very Strange Encounter by James Elkington

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

A little while ago we went walking on the moors with James Elkington. We passed Backstone Circle on the way back at the end of the day… it has always been an odd place with a strange reputation. In this reblogged post, James shares the story of his own experiences there…

As I write this post I know some of you may find difficulty in believing what I am about to tell. But I assure you it is all true. I have passion for weird places and coupled with my love for archeology, walking and photography it was inevitable that I would be drawn to one of the most eerie of places on a very eerie moor. I had little idea what I would encounter there.

Backstone Circle

Very few people have heard of ‘Backstone stone circle’ on Rombalds moor. It just isn’t very well known – and besides it is…

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