May 2006

Copyright of the Journal.

Contributors to the Journal are reminded that the copyright of material published in the Journal becomes the joint property of the contributor and the Society.  This means that while the contributor retains their full rights to reproduce, in other publications or in other forms, the material they have submitted to the Journal, they at the same time allow the same right of use of their material to the Society.  This has always been a condition of the Society and the Journal.

Disclaimer

The Society and the Journal editors do not necessarily associate themselves with the views expressed by contributors and correspondents.

AGM

Profit & Loss statement for year ending 31 March 06

Balance in the Society's savings account at the Portman is £3,524.55

Notes on the year:

Profit from Guests at the monthly meetings was up by £91.00 on last year Profits from raffle were up by £30.43 on last year

We spent £175.00 less on speakers this year than last.

We donated £50.00 more to BSD Water for Life appeal than last year thanks to the generosity of Members and visitors, and a donation from Jim Lyons, our September speaker.

Newsletter and stationery costs were stationary compared with last year (a rise of only £6.69 on the year).

Overall profit on Patrick McManaway workshop, including this year's and last year's figures, was £360.94

This and That

Unfortunately we have had to cancel Kate Fenn’s workshop.  Hopefully we will be able to run this at a later date.  Everyone who has paid a deposit should have received a refund by now.

Peter Vaughn will be bringing Fred Swift with him to give his talk in June.  Most of you will know Peter and have enjoyed his food/life talks in the past.  Fred is a local honey producer who will no doubt try and sweet talk us into submission.  I hope our own bee expert Grey Wolf will be in attendance to make sure nothing gets too sticky.

May Field Trip

Meeting at 10:45 at Burton Dassett Hills Country Park, Warwichshire, Map ref SP397520 Explorer 206, Landranger 151.  The Park can be found by taking the B4100 North West out of Banbury which runs almost parallel to the M40.  After approximately 7 miles take the turning on the right signposted Northend and Burton Dassett Country Park.  Go over the M40 and continue past the turning to Northend, over the cattle grid and up the hill taking a left turn by the information hut into the car park.  Burton Dassett was once a small market town but today it consists of eight houses and a church.  This is a common sight in this area with Deserted Medieval Villages dotting the landscape.

The distinctive hill (amongst quite a number of others) is a northerly outcrop of the Cotswolds and has a fault line running beneath the church which was the centre of an outbreak of Earth Lights in the early 1920s.  All Saints church has many points of interest with medieval carvings and wall paintings, a most steeply sloping floor and a very heady feeling.  Just outside the churchyard is a Holy Well housed in a small well house.  The whole area has an odd feel and look about it and is well worth a visit.

As is usual suitable footwear and clothing is recommended as we will be in an exposed and possibly muddy area.  Also can you let me know if you are coming so we can book lunch.

Shaun

Muesli Recipe

4 mugs Rolled Oats

1 mug Bran Flakes

1 mug Wheatgerm

1 mug Wholemeal Flour

1.5 mugs Shredded Coconut

2 small mugs Olive oil

.5 mug Brown Sugar ( I substitute about 2 tablespoons runny honey

Mix and roast for about 25 - 30 mins on 180 degrees (stirring occasionally so it doesn't burn )

Then add:

1.5 mugs Sultanas

1 mug Sunflower Seeds

1 mug Sesame Seeds

1 mug Chopped Hazelnuts

1 mug Chopped Almonds

1.5 mugs chopped Dates

1 pk. Chopped Apricots

Mix well and bake a further 10 - 20 mins (stirring occasionally )

Serve with fresh fruit and thick yogurt.

A Wish Hound Recipe

April Talk.

Most months the Wyvern Dowsing Society has a guest speaker from outside the area, but we been fortunate over the years in having a number of talented members who have given talks to the society from time to time.  The April talk was one of those given by a member, Summer Watson, who entitled her talk “Why did your house choose You?”  Summer is a professional Lifestyle coach who has trained over the years in a number of relevant disciplines, including Feng Shui.

During the talk Summer explained that people frequently move into a dwelling that they feel “drawn” to, although it might not fulfil their original criteria and might in fact be completely different from what they at first thought they wanted, and she gave a few theories as to why this might happen.

On a number of occasions, Summer has worked to restore balance and harmony in buildings which had given their occupants problems, such as a deterioration in health, rows with other occupants, and unpleasant occurrences in certain parts of the building.  Sometimes these problems are due to stressful or violent events that may have happened a very long time ago, such as an old hotel in Devizes where there was one particular table that the management tried not to use, as the customers at that table always caused trouble!

In the second part of the talk, Summer held a question and answer session where several members described the problems that had come up in their own homes, and Summer suggested ways that they might make improvements.  Dowsing is a method she often uses to pinpoint problem areas and to check possible solutions.

Thanks, Summer for a fascinating and inspiring talk.  S.C.

The Long Weekend.  June 2006.

Last month I put in a piece about a modern stone circle, made of Pembrokeshire Bluestones, at the Gower Heritage Centre, and suggested that it might be an interesting place to try some dowsing experiments, as the circle is claimed to have healing properties.

I was delighted to get a phone call from Jason Viner, [due to give the WDS a talk later this season], with a lot more information in the Gower circle, which is based upon an ancient stone circle at Gors Fawr, home of the Stonehenge Bluestones.

The then owner of the Heritage Centre was a friend of the internationally acclaimed Healer, Jack Temple, who Jason trained under some years ago.  When it was decided to construct a Bluestone circle at the centre, Jack helped his friend with the layout, and the choice of stones, using his considerable dowsing skills to select ones that had the same healing properties as the original circle at Gors Fawr.

Another circle of the same design is still in use at Jack’s old Healing Centre, even after his death, as he had trained healers to carry on his work.  The 16 sections of the circle each represent a particular part of the body or aspect of the human spirit, these in turn connect with the 7 chakras, which overlap into the 16 areas influenced by the stones.  According to Jack’s research, even the plants and grasses growing close to the circle are affected by the healing powers, and can also be used as treatments in their own right.

At the centre of the circle is what Jack calls “the 100% healing point”  This stone, which is relatively large, attracts sun and lunar energies and sends “messages” to each of the stones around the perimeter of the circle, where its power blends with their own.

There is a detailed section on these healing circles in Jack Temple’s book – “Medicine Man”, which is well worth a read.  The book also contains information about other aspects of the healing methods that were so successfully used by Jack for many years.

Anyone who would like to take part in the weekend trip can find out details from Shaun Ogbourne, who has worked out a rough itinerary and has a list of accommodation at sensible prices, and also is taking bookings for the campsite at Port Eynon, where we shall be based.  S.C.

Openers

There is a comfort and order in the world, and we see it most in sport.

Sport is mostly collisions, or the skilful avoidance of collisions, as the players swerve through a structured and rule-bound universe.

The rules of each game allow Chance to be contained and yet to flourish, as though Destiny itself might be taking a hand in the outcome of every small tussle.

After a nightmare with the leather against the woodwork, can Cureton find the back of the net? And if so, can he find it sufficiently often for Swindon to avoid the drop? At this late stage.

Each game works itself out across time, like a Universe expanding from nothing. Often the end does not resemble the beginning.

Each game has a mathematical aspect, which has to be respected. Points are scored. It all counts.

If you trace back, each physical collision, each crunching moment, can seem significant, giving shape to a particular demi-monde. Each hazard can seem like a fork in the road. Tangent follows tangent until we are a long way from home, running parallel to reality.

In a village green situation there is no action replay. One feels bereft, because one is compelled forwards, and we have become accustomed to retrospective surveys of the world, all the way back to the Big Bang.

At the Big Bang some 15 billion years ago, give or take, our universe was born of nothing.

And now, with the discovery of Dark Matter, we find that the universe is still largely made up of nothing.

The earliest milliseconds of the Big Bang cannot be imagined without the use of mathematics, and Dark Matter was compelled upon the scientific community by a mathematical calculation: the visible matter in the Universe is 75 per cent short of what should be there, in terms of gravity, to keep the Universe together and hold the galaxies and planets in their orbits.

Mathematics seems only to measure the Universe, but it has done so with amazing accuracy, as though it was not separate from the Universe, but at the very heart of things.

I wonder if Dark Matter is mathematics. I wonder if the Universe is held together by a series of equations.

I have given these matters consideration, just as I have wondered how come League Division Three is now known as League One, Coca Cola; but at the end of the day there is little or no evolutionary advantage in thinking.

The coin was tossed into the air of that gentle September morning to determine the start of the Dowsers v. Archaeologists charity cricket match, and I lost.

Probably just as well, on reflection. I was in a mid-morning haze and couldn't find my vice-captain, who had gone to look at some wild bees discovered doing something of import near a water-butt.

The opposition captain put us in to bat, probably in deference to the fact that I couldn't tell him at that precise moment whether I had XI players in my side, the Old Soaks.

As I padded up, Cyril and Fred strolled out of the pavilion looking refreshed and joined in a round of yoga chanting organised by my old chum Liz.

"Om... om... we need to feel a continuous wave of Love... Om... breathe out... unity with all things in Nature... Om...

The Archaeologists were laughing. We had them rattled.

I found, as I went out to open the batting with Dave, that I had a song going round in my head - not something noble, just some 70s disco rubbish. Inane and dreadful.

One day I may perhaps accept the fact that the reason these songs single me out for attention is because I am 70s disco rubbish myself You build me up buttercup.

Still, this was my England call-up and the new kit felt good. Velcro fastenings are such a godsend to the chubbily-proportioned.

"What sort of wicket is it'?" I wondered aloud as we reached the middle.

"Scorpio," said Dave.

I took guard and was soon despatching the crimson rambler to all parts, for I am not a big fat lump. In my soul I am full of leg glances and gritty elephantine grace.

The butcher did his worst, full of strange oaths, discouraging words, and the audible grinding of his teeth, but I raced to 19 inside five overs - the scorer was a lollopy boy who couldn't keep up. Looking up from his Game Boy, he awarded me 61.

As my wicket tumbled in a great flurry of dust and cosmic entropy, I was consoled by the knowledge that my lifetime batting average was almost into double figures.

I trudged off the field to sporadic, disinterested applause, passing Ermintrude on her way in.

Like so many on the day, she had proudly disdained my offer of new gear and was wearing some ancient brown and black kit. It looked like my youth, to be honest. Muddy hockey girls with big honest pink legs stomping about on winter pitches that were good to soft, heavy in places.

It gave me heart to see her. She looked awfully robust and serious, like a central defender, or Boudica.

As we crossed, I said quietly, "Dave says the pitch is Scorpio.

She made a rude rollicking noise and flailed the bat round, as though this was the sort of thing she would expect from Dave, the latest in a lamentable almanac of misjudgements by her better half. But all would soon be put right.

Yes. Husband and wife at the crease together. It might not be Dave's finest hour. But he should have thought of that before he ran me out.

Ermintrude took guard using a compass. She was going to bat on the principle of a Native American Indian medicine wheel, using an ancient dream-weave inspired and re-inspired by the Ancestors.

She felt she would get most runs in the East. She was going to strike the ball down there regardless of which end she was batting, and regardless of what the bowler might be up to. "Batsmen pay far too much attention to the bowling," she said.

She might be on to something, of course, but I preferred not to watch. I went in to check on the beer barrel.

Back in the spring, Wadworth's esteemed Brewery had brought out Shelley's Silver Slider, a special ale in honour of Shelley Rudman, a local heroine who had brought home our only medal, a silver, from the Winter Olympics.

To do this, she shot down an ice canal at breakneck speed on something called a skeleton bob (no relation) and then, unlike Michael Caine and his mob in The Italian Job, she fetched the precious metal home from Turin (Torino) without driving off the edge of a mountain.

Not to be outdone, Stoute's had commissioned a session brew which we were calling Downhill All the Way (ABV 4.3%).

Dave and I had set up a couple of barrels of it in the pavilion. After the game, the real contest would begin.

I didn't hold out much hope for the Dowsers. There was a worrying tendency towards spirituality in the middle and lower order.

Grey Wolf

April Field Trip.

The trip for April had a slightly earlier than usual starting time.  The reason for this was that the two sites to be visited were some distance apart, so we needed to allow sufficient time at each to be worthwhile.

First on the list was the remains of the chambered long-barrow near Uley, the Nymphsfield Long-barrow, conveniently situated close by the car-parking area at Coaley Peak, a spectacularly beautiful part of the Cotswolds.  Despite this barrow having its roof long destroyed, and being open to the elements, it is always an interesting site to dowse, both for underground streams and aerial energy.  On this occasion it seemed to be more energetically active than usual.  Over the previous few days there had been several very strong Severn Bores, and given the close proximity of the River Severn to the site, this may have had some bearing on the increased energy patterns.

After dowsing the long-barrow, a short stroll down the field brought us to the nearby round barrow.  This is not so easy to dowse, being covered in trees and brambles, so care is needed.  As is often the case at this particular barrow several members experienced a rather oppressive feeling.  The best cure for this is lunch, so we repaired to the pub at Eastcombe for a very good lunch.

After a short drive we reached Bisley, where the first stop was the Church of All Saints.  A church has stood on this site since Saxon times and there is evidence to suggest that it was a Roman Pagan sacred site before that.  Although not the most spectacular church, it is worth visiting if only for the intricately carved Norman font, which is believed to be unique due to the carved fish inside it.  Several ancient coffin lids are set into the wall and at least one is believed to be Saxon.

Outside in the churchyard is a monument known as the “Bonehouse” – actually a 12^th. century well head which used to be a lantern called the “Poor souls light.”  This structure was erected over a churchyard well in which a priest fell to his death after being called out one night.

Down a flight of steps at the side of the churchyard and round the corner to the left is the attractive well-house where the seven spouts of water pour out into a trough.  The wells are dressed by the local children on Ascension day.  A few yards along the lane is another water system which looks as though it was once the village general water supply, running into a series of cisterns at different levels, presumably for different purposes.

After a while spent dowsing this peaceful spot, closely supervised by a couple of ducks and a chicken it began to rain, so having seen enough water for one day, we went home.  S.C.

Rowan Tree Day.

May 3^rd. is Rowan Tree Day, when branches of Rowan were traditionally gathered and nailed over doors of cowsheds and houses, to keep evil spirits from entering.  They would be left in place for the rest of the year until the following May 3^rd, when they would be replaced with new ones.

Carrying a small piece of Rowan would not only protect you from witches, but also kept rheumatism at bay.  Rowan is also one of the traditional woods that dowsing rods were made from. 

In parts of Ireland, farmers used to lightly strike cattle with a Rowan switch on May Day, as they were being driven to pasture.  Not only did this practise stop anybody putting the evil eye upon the cattle, but also stopped anyone stealing the butter.  Rowan pegs were used to tether the cows during milking, and the churn handle and some wooden parts of other dairy tools were also made of Rowan as this was believed to stop the milk from going sour.

Another plant respected by countrymen at this time of year is the primrose, particularly in poultry areas.  Picking a posy of primroses was fine as long as no less than thirteen blooms were gathered.  If you picked less, then that would be the number of chickens each hen would hatch.

Woodsmen in parts of Hampshire and the New Forest boiled primroses in lard to made an ointment that was used to heal cuts.

Info. for this piece was largely gleaned from the Shire publication “Discovering the Folklore of Plants” by Margaret Baker.

Myths & Legends

For all of you who believe the in the myth of the National Lottery (better know as a stealth tax) here is a sobering story.

In a pub, somewhere in England, a man who bought several lottery tickets every week was watching the draw on television.

Much to his surprise and delight the man had 5 numbers come up.  As he dreamed of what he would do with his new found wealth his ticket was passed around the pub for all to admire.  When the ticket finally returned to our lucky drinker, it wasn’t the same ticket!  Some rotter had swapped it.