Category Archives: Books

Field-Mouse…

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Field-Mouse was out gathering wild-beans for winter when Buffalo came down to the meadow to graze.

‘He will mow down the long-grass with his prickly tongue and there will be no where left to hide,’ thought Field-Mouse, ‘I will offer him battle, like a man would do.’

“Ho, Buffalo!” squeaked Field-Mouse, “I challenge you to a fight.”

Buffalo went on grazing.

Field-Mouse repeated his challenge but still Buffalo went on grazing.

With his third challenge, Field-Mouse laughed contemptuously at Buffalo’s inaction.

“You had better keep still, little one,” said Buffalo, still grazing, “or I will come over there and step on you.”

“You can’t do it!” squeaked Field-Mouse in defiance.

“If you don’t be quiet I will certainly put an end to you,” said Buffalo, quietly.

“I dare you!” said Field-Mouse.

Before Field-Mouse had quite finished, Buffalo charged at him…

*

The House That Fish Built: Long-Horn O’Leary…

France & Vincent

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…From the south came Long-Horn O’Leary and his host.

“Hail, the flame-hot hammerer: wielder of the red mallet,” said Father Fish as he lolloped alongside O’Leary’s company on foot, “When the men of Albion return from foreign lands you protect their rear so that an assailant may not spring past you, nor over you, what then should prevent the Champion’s Portion of Red-Hill-Hall being yours ?”

Said Long-Horn O’Leary, “why, if it isn’t that dullard Fish Face, come to pester me with his eccentric wit,” he laughed aloud and his company set up a roar and raised their swords.

“Truly, the Champion’s Portion of the house I built is not that of a dullard’s house,” smiled Father Fish, “belonging to it are five-score cakes of wheat cooked in honey, and a cow-lord full seven years old; since it was a calf neither heather nor twig-tops have entered its lips…

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Broken Fortress…

HM15 1281*

PC 963 Kraas turned and walked head-long into the sea breeze.

Her hair flicked in the wind like rampant flames.

“You know, I can’t help feeling we’ve missed a trick with this one.”

“It’s mentioned in the book,” replied Jaw-Dark pensively, “and in any case it’s a pleasant enough spot.” He paused and bent down to look through a large eye-shaped ‘blow-hole’ in the promontory.

“What’s that?” said Kraas.

“Well, that depends…” said Jaw-Dark.

“That depends upon what?”

“…Upon your perspective,” finished Jaw-Dark.

“Nothing is ever straight forward with you is it?”

“The Irish name for this and other similar landscape features is Poll na Seantuinne.”

“Which means?”

“‘Hole of the Old Wave’.”

Just then the sea crashed beneath the promontory and the foaming waves, in the mouth of the sea cavern, a hundred feet below could be clearly seen through the ‘chasm-hole’.

“Seems an apt description,” said Kraas, “if a tad un-nerving.” Her gaze followed the slow drag of the tide and then lifted to the sky where wisps of grey cloud scudded on the wind, “in the beginning,” she said, “everything was chasm and chaos.”

“There is though another interpretation.”

“Which is?”

Poll na Sean Tiene means ‘Hole of the Old Fire’.”

“Okay, I can see where that might fit in with some of their concerns. Especially with all this baleful eye stuff.”

“Personally though I prefer the third alternative…”

“Ever the story teller,” smiled Kraas, “Well, I’m waiting!”

Poll na Seantuine,  is the ‘Hole of the Old Woman.”

Kraas’ smile turned to a grimace, “Well, I wouldn’t go shouting that particular preference from the cliff tops if I were you,” she said through the grimace, and then added more seriously, “so which one is it?”

“Unfortunately for us and also quite possibly for them too, it is more than likely that it is all three of them.”

*

Into the Hill…

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…And the Wood-Stone started to glow,

White it was…

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And I felt an impetus to take flight,

but only as far as the end of the passage…

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Which is just as well, otherwise, I would have missed the golden glow now emanating from the chamber…

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And all the ‘statuary firing up blue’,

as whatever it was lighting the chamber,

slowly made its way along the passage…

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Passed through me…

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Or around me…

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And then out…

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A short time later, still in the chamber, we found ourselves asking the question to which that had been the answer.

And if you are curious to know, how golden was the chamber?

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It was Liquid-Sun.

 

Inner Sanctum…

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Further vindication of our unscheduled return was granted upon re-entering the chamber.

The free standing stone and the facing stone, which were separated by space and shadow, were both now holding the light.

The light that some say would not have been original to the monument.

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From behind, the standing stone still looks like wood…

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…Dark Wood.

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Still a little perplexed by the experience the previous day at the ‘Chant-Eater’ we ran through the nine-fold chant and this time got some good effects.

The middle three seemed to resonate most favourably which, being the heart triad, would make a lot of sense here.

After which we re-made our dedication…

*

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Our timing was beginning to appear propitious…

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But then we noticed that the ground was turning red…

The Hill in a Dark Grove, reprieve…

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We had known for some time, courtesy of Rupert Soskin, that the resident stone of the inner chamber at Bryn Celli Ddu is part of a petrified tree trunk.

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And once we had our eye in it became apparent that other ‘chunks’ of petrified wood had been used in the construction of this chambered tomb.

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At least two, and almost certainly more, of the ‘entrance’ or indeed ‘exit’ stones and the lintel of the passage itself readily conformed to the strange specification.

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This was very exciting, for while we may have been able to extrapolate a workable symbolism behind the use of such material for the stone of the inner chamber, this symbolism was, perhaps, not so readily applicable to the surrounds of the passage-way…

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And was also, possibly, an indication of a more utilitarian function for these stones.

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The mind… began… to boggle.

Verily, Verily…

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The thing is…

It is impossible to ‘do’ such sites in one visit.

In fact, it is not possible to ‘do’ such sites at all.

If anything, they ‘do’ you, if you allow them.

As we were about to learn…

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The stone I was interested to get a closer look at is a, one would hope,  carefully positioned, replica.

The original, carved stone, is now in a local museum for safe-keeping.

The orientation of the tomb is, according to the authorities, towards the midsummer sunrise, so time-wise, at least, we were half a year away.

But I think it is clear that something is going on here with sun and stone, especially as it becomes obvious that a second outlier in an adjacent field also lines up with the stone and ‘passage-way’…

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All things which would have been missed had we not returned when we did, but the best was yet to come…

Never Look Back…

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The first thing to remark, apart from the increased Avian Activity Quotient…

Was, the difference an hour makes.

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Was it simply the movement of the sun?

The progress of the day…

Or had the site responded to our earlier visit?

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Given our theories on the sensitivity of these sites…

It could well be either, or both.

One thing was certain…

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We were seeing more…

And were about to see a lot more.

The Road Home…

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Wen and I are back on the road which leads past Bryn Celli Ddu…

We had to double-back to the hotel because someone called down ‘Cloud City’ before we left.

*

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“Don’t you mean, someone forget their wash-bag?”

“Anyway, it was good to finally get to the Hill in a Dark Grove.”

“Pretty literal with their names aren’t they?”

“There is one thing that puzzles me, though…”

*

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“…There were no trees.”

“Nor is a mound a hill, exactly.”

And I didn’t get any shots of the stone at the back of the mound.”

“We’ll miss the museum completely if we go back.”

“We won’t be long and we’ll still make it to Beaumaris in time.”

*

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Harbinger…

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It has been surmised that the future enters our past in order that the present may form…

Sometimes it certainly feels a little like that.

For one thing it has been twenty-seven months since our last sighting of a Heron which, if memory serves, occurred immediately prior to our sojourn in Bryn Celli Ddu…

Whatever the books on symbolism or divination say, in my experience, the Heron is a harbinger of change…

What sort of change and when that change is to take place is often quite another matter…

But change…

…Is coming.

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