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Unfortunately Maggie Dobson has had to withdraw from her date in June. She is due to go into hospital around that time so thought it better to postpone her talk to a later date.
The date for the 2006 Long Weekend is June 22nd to 25th. You can come for part or all of the trip, which it is hoped will be to the Gower Peninsula, a part of South Wales which is rich in ancient and historical sites. It is also an area of outstanding natural beauty. We are in the process of researching and compiling a list of bed & breakfast places, finding a suitable campsite for the hardier participants, also decent pubs and eating places. We need to check on these facilities before confirming the venue but more detailed information will follow soon. Incidentally, I have read that this part of Wales has the best and driest weather! Please let Shaun know as soon as possible if you are interested in coming or have queries. Full details will follow soon.
Meet at 10.45am at the Roman Amphitheatre which can be found in Cirecester at map ref. S.P.020016 [Explorer 169 or Land Ranger 163]. It is marked on most road atlases and is sign-posted from the dual carriageway. Parking is available on the minor road by the side of the amphitheatre.
The amphitheatre today is a large grassy bowl with two entrances cutting the banks, a far cry from how it would have looked during Roman times, as the stone-seated centre of local entertainment!
After a pub lunch we shall be heading North-west to visit Duntisbourne Rouse Church, believed to be of very early 12th. century Norman origins. Having survived both the Reformation and the attentions of the Victorian restorers, it stands as a time-warp in a beautiful Cotswold valley-side setting.
Stout footwear and waterproof clothing is recommended. Please, if you intend coming along to the pub lunch, let me know as soon as you can – advance booking is best for a largish party in the Cotswolds at Sunday lunchtimes.
See you there,
Shaun.
Dowsing often gets a less than respectful treatment by the media, who sometimes delight in trying to catch out with trick questions designed to make to make us look stupid However, only a couple of months ago, “Kitchen Garden” magazine published a feature on dowsing for gardeners, where the subject was treated intelligently and sympathetically.
This month I see that the March/April edition of “British Archaeology” magazine has a whole page on the possibilities of using dowsing as a method of surveying archaeological sites. Several successful examples of archaeological dowsing are mentioned in the article. I’m particularly pleased by this as archaeologists as a whole have often been reluctant to work with dowsers or to admit any credibility.
Given that the current methods of geophysical surveying normally used on archaeological sites often have their drawbacks, as anyone who watches “Time-team” knows, surely dowsing could have its place in the surveyors “toolbox”, along with the high-tech gizmos. It might be of particular use in situations where contamination or water-logging of the site in question rules out accurate surveying with electronic equipment. Certainly the cost would be a fraction of the price of a high-tech survey, so would be of use where finance is a consideration.
The author of the article in “British Archaeology”, Sue Brown, puts a very good case for the use of dowsing for this purpose and would like to hear from any one who knows of an archaeological dowsing survey that has been validated by excavation or geophysics.
Sue is a founder member of the BSD Archaeological Dowsing Group and can be contacted at suaugur.brown@virgin.net All information will be treated in confidence.
“British Archaeology” is available from larger newsagents.
Sorry for the very brief piece about Nora last month, but the information about her passing came just as we were about to have the Newsletter printed.
Born in 1931, Nora left school at the age of 14 as she loathed it and studied window dressing at college, which led to work in several department stores. She was later to work for a while for the M.O.D. as a clerk, and had her own haberdashery shop for a time. Of recent years she had been a keen, supportive member of the WDS, also the BSD and a number of the BSD’s Special Interest Groups.
Nora had been recuperating after a stroke she had suffered near the end of September last year when she took a sudden turn for the worse, and was re-admitted to hospital where she died early in January. Nora was highly thought of by her numerous friends, many of whom were able to attend her funeral on Jan 22nd.
Despite spending much of her early life at home tending to her disabled mother, Nora had managed to pack more interests, hobbies and worthwhile causes into her life than most other people I know. Never afraid to speak out on issues that concerned her, she always had a great sense of humour, however serious the project she was involved in. While doing a stint as a protester at the Greenham Common Peace Camp some years ago, Nora, on being arrested, gave her name as Rose Quartz! [also given as her name in the last census]. Demonstrations at Twyford Down, the Newbury Bypass CND and the Stonehenge peace process were all things she was involved in.
Her cat, originally called Herne, was discovered to be a female after a visit to the vet, and was promptly re-named Hernia. In her large back garden was a Pre-Roman shrine, which had been excavated some years previously. Lots of pot sherds and other Bronze age remains were found at the site. As a staunch Pagan, Nora took great pleasure in offering the use of her shrine to Local Pagan groups to use for hand-fastings and other ceremonies, and often went down to the shrine to talk to her ancestors whenever she had problems. She especially liked to work there with fire. Other people who wished to use it were always welcomed.
Several members have sent reminiscences of Nora – here are a few:
“Lovely Nora
Nora was like a favourite aunt, and I have two memories of her which I shall never forget.
In 2003, during my wild-flower phase, I picked a whole bunch of flowers in the lanes around Purton, and brought them in to the meeting, having no idea what most of them were.
Nora breezed up the stairs and, in passing my table, named every single one for me. I was so impressed.
Then, at Tilshead last summer, in the pub car park, she tried in vain to attract the attention of one of the barmaids, who had driven up and left her lights on when she got out of her car.
We eventually followed the young woman into the pub where Nora, instead of telling her that her lights were on, promptly told her that someone had just crashed into her car.
The barmaid went white. Those of us standing nearby rushed to assure her it was only her lights. I reflected afterwards that Nora was probably of an age to have attended St. Trinian’s, before it burned to the ground.” [Peter McDade Jan 2006]
The piece about the wild flowers, from Peter McDade, shows Nora’s extensive knowledge of botany. She was equally knowledgeable on prehistoric remains, old churches, local customs and folklore, geology and many other things.
Another member, who prefers to be known as Wish-hound, often brings her son Andrew [a very good dowser] to meetings. She wrote:
“Andrew was very sad when I told him, Nora always had a cheery word for him and he was very fond of her. She was the first person to get Andrew interested in dowsing. She taught him when local dowsers met Hampshire dowsers at Fishbourne Roman Palace. Andrew found a colonnade by dowsing that everyone else had missed. I think she was really proud when he was ‘Wiltshire Champion Dowser” last year.
Secondly, she was instrumental in getting the Wish-hounds together, we were conceived in her front parlour. She was always open, friendly and hospitable when we went down to the shrine at Redenham.
We would just like to say ‘Thanks Nora, for being our friend and sharing your vast knowledge with us. We will hold your memory sacred.’ She was a remarkable woman, there aren’t many like her around.”
“My strongest memories revolve around two trips, first was the day Nora and I spent in and around Chute Causeway and her back yard. Nora’s knowledge and enthusiasm for pre-history, history and magical places really shone through as she introduced me to places she knew loved. Secondly was our WDS trip to Mere, in 2005, and in particular Nora’s delight at being able to visit the pre-historic earthworks on top of Whitesheet Hill, a place new to her. As expected, she came prepared, having done some reading up on the archaeology of the area. Everybody seemed to warm to Nora, she had a wonderful way of getting people involved in a wide range of activities. She even managed to get adversaries working together. Sh was not afraid of getting her hands dirty or of travelling considerable distances in her little old van to take part in her many interests, and always keen to talk to others about their thoughts and experiences.” Shaun Ogbourne.
NORA
a poem by Mary Kane.
A woman of inquisitive mind and integrity
A woman of the peace
Nora had immense knowledge and understanding
An antiquarian, historian and nature lover.
Nora will be sadly missed.
Her smile forever imprinted in our memories
Her chuckles may nay be forgotten
What a wonderful woman was our Nora
Forever will be missed.
Much love and joy she would bring,
Upon our outings endeavoured,
She was a woman of special realms,
A woman much loved and missed.
Nora’s beloved shrine was the venue for the first part of her funeral ceremony, arranged according to her wishes and performed by local pagans. Her coffin was then wheeled on a bier down to the local church where she was buried next to her mother.
In true Nora style, something humorous just had to happen. Everything went perfectly until the moment when the bearers tried to lower her coffin into the grave. The hole was 6 inches too small. Hasty adjustments were made, [to the grave, not the coffin!], and the interment was duly completed.
Everyone then adjourned to a local hall for a wake and a good array of refreshments which many people had contributed. S.C.
Rather to my surprise the BSD came up with two probables for the squad and put them in touch with Dave.
The first was a leathery old scout from Yorkshire with trenchant views and a know-all attitude.
He'd played some minor-league cricket and had learned to plot the flow of match-energy on a vector of the lunar phase, the size of the crowd and the relevant bowling averages.
The sitting of the ground was also important, as he had noticed that at some grounds his side could do no wrong, while at others they seemed to be jinxed.
To cover this fact of sporting life, he had an interpretation of feng shui using Duckworth-Lewis and something called the Northern Pavilion Ephemeris.
He wasn't proud, mind. He never had a good word to say for Yorkshire. But he'd fight to the death with anyone who said a word against it.
I'd heard of him vaguely.
Brian String he was called. This was the man who discovered the controversial ley in the car park at Headingley. Possibly just a linguistic confusion, you know.
You can't say that everywhere that has "ley" in its name denotes a ley-line because ley is just the old word for a meadow. It just means there was a field there.
But by and large there was no telling Mr String anything. He called his ley the willow pattern as it seemed to link several Test arenas with the birthplace of W.G. Grace, Alexander Pope's willow at Twickenham, and the forbidden city of Bejing. The Silk Road came into it somewhere.
He was the talk of the Northern circuit, as you can imagine, and lectured at 300 quid a go.
His average in 40-over matches was 8.352 but the thing was, he usually carried his bat.
That intrigued me, for I had been a blocker in my day. But if he could last out the whole innings, it sounded as though he had a vestige of technique.
Dave reported that every word old Bri uttered made reference to "the coaching manual". After only five minutes of talking to him on the phone, however, Dave felt that no such manual could be purchased in any shop. Nor would it be known to PE teachers or scholars of the game.
Dave rang round for references. Apparently, Mr String was always carving people up on the road in his antediluvian automobile, then referring his victims to the "Highway Code". He kept his thoughts in a book of shadows and wrote occasional letters to the newspapers.
He scorned the post-modern relativism of Sig Lonegren and the woofiness of the southern New Age. Oddly, in crunch situations, he was almost always right.
In his spare time he was an Elvis impersonator and found, in the end, that he couldn't make it down for our match against the Archaeologists because he was opening a Brontosaurus exhibition in Bronte country. Or a show about Daleks in the Dales. Or a fete or something.
"That's a pity," said Dave.
"Yes, what a shame," I said.
"I'd have liked to hear about the Northern Pavilion Ephemeris."
"Oh, me too," I said. "Still, this should come as no surprise. It's an era in which cricketers are making a name for themselves in other fields. One thinks of Gough on the dance-floor and Tufnell in the jungle."
"Do you think it's worse to be an Elvis impersonator or to have written a song about Elvis?" said Dave.
"I don't know. Are there many songs about Elvis?"
"Loads. Loads and loads. Even Kate Bush has written one."
"Ah, dear Kate.'
We venerated.
"It's not her best work," said Dave darkly.
"Yes, well, I cling to the glory days of the Hounds of Love with its songs about orgone and witches and running up that hill," I said. "Cheers! Who else have the BSD got for us?"
"This sounds more promising. You know they support the Water for Life scheme in southern India?"
"Indeed. A very good cause. Reaching the Unreached of Village India."
"Hey, reaching the unreached could be a slogan for a batsman," said Dave, and rehearsed a flowing reverse-sweep across the pub table.
"Mind the empties," I said.
"The BSD sponsored a young surveyor to go out there for a year. He's back now. While he was out there, he did a lot of spin bowling on the notorious pitches of the sub-continent."
"Not the notorious pitches of the sub-continent," I said .
"Yes," said Dave. "His name is Fred Mouse. They call him the Twister of Tamil Nadu."
"Are they winding us up, do you think?"
"It has to be worth a try."
"We already have Cyril as a spinner."
"Theoretical spinner," said Dave.
"I don't want to upset the great man by bringing in a rival. He's already in the corridor of uncertainty. He's talking about sending down all his deliveries with his eyes shut."
"What for?"
"To achieve the correct balance of Chi."
"What a load of balls," sighed Dave. "What a liability.
"He could make all the difference," I said. "Some people are talismanic, despite their flaws. Or possibly because of their flaws."
Actually, when we got to the ground on the day, I looked about me and felt that possibly I had a side full of talismans.
I had travelled across to Avebury with a full-ish kit, as is my wont, and I got Plumb Bob to throw it all down on the outfield, for people to help themselves. It was a bright day and the gear shone like Silbury Hill must have, when it was all chalk on the outside.
Wicket-keepers are usually men of neat habits and Bob was sizing the gear and laying it all out in an orderly fashion when he stopped, stood up, and looked towards the boundary rope.
There was this vision moving effortlessly out there in full gothic make-up and those curious layers of pink and grey rags that are fashionable in the gym.
As she came by, I saw that it was my old friend Liz: healer, gossip and devotee of the Goddess. She was hardly out of breath. She just beamed at Plumb Bob and ran on past. She had never done PE at school! But now she was fifteen stone of loveliness.
"Liz!" I called out. "You are fif- you are fifth in the batting order. OK?"
"Whatever you say!" she cried, and skipped away lightly.
Grey Wolf
The new season of field trips got off to a good start with perfect weather. The site was the Lawn Estate in Swindon’s Old Town, situated just behind the now burnt-out former Corn Exchange. This was a low-key afternoon only trip, since possible bad weather must be taken into consideration at this time of the year, but luck was with us. A smaller than usual number than usual turned up, as several had gone to celebrate the life of Nora Morris, her funeral being held the same day. [More on this elsewhere in the journal.]
Dowsing included the site where the demolished manor house used to stand – not as easy as it first appeared. There is a pronounced mound which is obviously a major part of the house, so we dowsed around this, and came across jutting out sections along a couple of the former walls. Several people came up with different findings for these, so I suspect that the house had had a number of wings and other additions over its long life, with bits being demolished at various times, which would account for our differing results.
This difference in findings is another reminder to be very specific with times when dowsing historic sites – just asking for “the old house” is not enough.
After this we split up for a while, with some members dowsing at several large sarcen stones to ask if they had been part of a stone circle or avenue, as it is believed that there was once a structure of this kind on the site. It is known that there has been occupation on the site for at least 5000 years.
Some of us went looking for the old pets graveyard. I had remembered seeing it as a child, when all the tiny gravestones were still in place, but these are no longer in evidence. However, one member had seen the graveyard a few years ago, when a few of the stone were still in situ, and she had a pretty good idea where to look for it. On reaching the spot where she thought it had been, we started dowsing, which appeared to confirm that we were at the right spot, in a very tranquil part of the wooded area. While this was going on, several members dowsed underground water and came upon a couple of powerful blind springs, and some of the trees were also dowsed.
A pleasant afternoon in one of Swindon’s more attractive areas – particularly since the bright sunlight had encouraged clumps of snowdrops to burst into flower, A real treat!
A welcome return visit from Paul Devereux, with another selection of stunning slides [mainly from the USA], portraying more of his research and journeys around ancient monuments. The majority of these slides showed what Paul referred to as “Shamanic Toolkits” showing different styles of rock art, and rocks which had acoustic properties valued by shamans in olden times. Paul explained that his researches had shown that although many of these shamans had died out along with the tribes they came from, there was enough evidence from a few elderly indigenous people to give a good idea of what these rocks meant and how they were used.
Many of these rocks were in incredibly inhospitable and difficult places to reach. Apart from the remoteness of some of the most sacred places, ensuring an exhausting journey to get there, many of the shamans further stressed their bodies to the limits by using a vast quantity of hallucinogenic herbs, roots and other parts of plants. It is believed that some of the rock art was portraying scenes that shamans saw while in a drug-induced trance. These images might then afterwards be used to re-connect with the gods shown in the pictures.
My own feeling is that making a permanent record of these gods would have made them available for consultation by the shaman, without the need for him to go into a drug-induced trance each time, as apparently these trances were not to be undertaken lightly since they were so severe as to bring the shaman close to death.
Paul also explained that although he has enough subject matter ready for another two or three books, it is very difficult to get books published at the current time, due to the way the publishing business works at the moment. However, he is working on it, and also has a possibility of some television programmes coming up, which may well come to fruition before the next book.
There is an interesting article in the February issue of the “Fortean Times” magazine by Paul on the subject of North American Shamans, along with some photographs of some of the things he talked about at the meeting.
Thanks to Paul for another fascinating evening, I have no doubt he will be back in the future with yet more pictures of places we would all like to go to but never even knew existed!
I rather like this one which has all the hallmarks of a deliberately created story for anti drug propaganda.
A couple with a young child asked the girl next door if she could baby sit whilst they went to the cinema. The girl agreed and off the couple went. After the film they decided to go for a drink and called the baby sitter to check all was OK. The girl answered the phone and said every thing was fine and she had put the chicken in the oven for dinner. Satisfied the mother rang off and recounted the conversation to her husband when she realised that there was no chicken at home. The couple rushed home to discover the babysitter tripping away on LSD and the baby in the oven.
And here’s a tasty tale of revenge-
A man discovered that his girlfriend was seeing some else. When she went away on a business conference the boy friend sprinkled her carpets with alfalfa seeds and then watered them all, packed his things and moved out. The girlfriend arrived home to discover her carpets a veritable jungle of greenery.