I'm a writer and storyteller, and my new novel, Windsmith, is published this winter by Awen and promoted by Sulis Underground. It is fitting, I think, for what I call a 'Celtic odyssey' that I go on a journey to promote it with my friend and cohort Ian - starting at the ancient fire festival of Samhain - the Celtic new year, known widely as Hallowe'en. It was a time to honour the ancestors, and that's exactly what I wish to do with this book and tour. The novel is set in the Realm of the Ancestors - what I call the Afterlands, where the main character, Isambard Kerne finds himself trapped after going missing in action in the opening battle of the First World War, where the famous Angel of Mons was seen...
The tour begins with the launch in Bath, Somerset on Sat, Oct 28th. I'll keep you posted as often as I can throughout the tour, which lasts until late Jan 2007.
All tour dates to be posted soon.
Watch this space!
Kevan
Witches Ball
30th September, Corn Exchange, Dorchester
This fabulous gathering in Dorchester, organised by the Dolmen Grove and Coronaeid, where I was MCing, provided the first public opportunity to announce the launch of the novel – an auspicious start! I gave it a good plug on stage, and flyers were distributed, on the door, and to the various hosts present. The initial response seemed enthusiastic. In fact, the response we’ve had so far, while organising the tour, has been so encouraging that it has reassured we are doing the right thing. Dates have fallen into place. Our friends are looking forward to seeing us, and we them. It will be real nice to hook up with folk outside of the summer festival season. I think one of the reasons things are flowing so well is because we’re doing it at the right time for the right reasons – as far as I’m concerned this book is about honouring the ancestors, and so to launch it at Samhain, the time of the ancestors, is very apt. And furthermore, it underlies the importance of community, as the tribes pull together, supporting one another in a time of conflict. This book is also anti-war, though I try to explore the complexities of the issue (i.e. defending one’s loved ones and homeland may ‘justify’ violence, but where do you draw the line? When does the defender become the aggressor?) and so it not only resonant to bring it out near Remembrance Sunday, but also topical at a time of ongoing conflict. In such difficult times perhaps the only thing we can do is: be true to ourselves; to follow our paths; to do what we are born to do to the best of our abilities; shine and share. It is a time for gathering around the hearth and telling the tales of old and of the dying year, as we go from Samionos (seedfall) to Dumannios (darkest depths) according to the Coligney Calendar. Windsmith is a new/old tale, spun from the shadows of our ancestors, the dust of falling stars, and the deep dreaming of winter. I have journeyed to this Otherworld in its crafting, many times walking between the worlds in my imagination, and now it is time to share the riches I have returned with. This story nourished me over a long dark winter (2005/2006) and I hope it will provide the same service for those who venture into its pages.
And so the adventure begins…
The Tour Starts!
Halloween Festival
QueenMaryCollege, Bow, London
21-22 October 2006
Visitors to this 11th annual Halloween Festival got a sneak preview of 'Windsmith',
when I gave a talk about it on the Sunday, appropriately enough in the Air Hall.
About 30 folk turned up to hear me talk about the 'bardic odyssey' which lead to the book's creation, from the journey of my childhood onwards. I spoke about growing up feeling close to nature and a sense of its nascent sacredness, how that draw me to paganism and ultimately the Bardic Path, and how my love of the British landscape inspired me to write 'The Long Woman'. I told the story of Dru the Windsmith, whicjh I had heard from Derek the Storyteller at ELF, with the help of a chalk drawing on a blackboard - apt for a chalk figure!
The talk lasted just under an hour, there was a couple of questions and comments - about Bishop Boniface, chalk figures, and the Nazca Lines.
No one left early - always a good sign!
Some folk stayed to chat after, and a few signed the tour book.
I sold a few books afterwards - copies of The Bardic Handbook, Green Fire, The Long Woman and the first (order) copy of Windsmith!
All in all it seemed to be a success - people sounded interested in the idea of the new book and look forward to seeing it. As always I get nervous, but apparently you couldn't tell...It was great having my friends Ian (Mr Sulis Underground), Jessica and Katy there for moral support. Afterwards I wound down with a much appreciated glass of wine.
Later that day I took part in the closing ceremony of the festival, representing the Two of Cups with J. No rest for a bard!
We left the festival feeling positive, having made some new friends, and reforged old contacts. Windsmith has hit the road! May it travel far...
Kevan
LAUNCH PARTY!
Oct 28th Sat, 6-8pm,
The Raven, Bath
This was the big launch party – a chance to wet the baby’s head with friends and locals in my home city. More than anything it was a huge relief to have the books actually there – after an intensive couple of months, and a very nerve-wracking couple of weeks. At one point it looked like the gods were against when the first printer the book was sent to blew up! (the digital printing system completely crashed) Fortunately, Bookchase were on the case and got another printer lined up straight away. They were delivered on time but it was a very fraught fortnight as the deadline loomed. The books arrived the morning before the launch – sailing close to the wind, some would say, though that seems appropriate for a book called Windsmith! There is something to be said for the adrenalin of deadlines in helping to manifest something – otherwise it could gather dust for decades. I was confident we could carry this off, having done so before with the same team: Anthony, copyediting; Skip, typesetting and Ian on finance/production. Rocks, all of them. It was incredibly reassuring, having such a stalwart, skilled, reliable team. They came through when it mattered, and we made it happened.
Last night gave me a chance to thank them – first with a pie and a pint, then publicly. And I also gave credit to those who have helped the book or myself in one way or another: Cathy, Moyra, Robin.
It was a mad day – about an hour before I was meant to arrive, the pub had a powercut and I was rang and told the show could go on, but only by candlelight – that kind of appealed to me actually, although I was looking forward to the pie – and the stairs might have been a problem in the gloom! What was going on? First the printers, now this! Anybody think the book was jinxed but actually it has happened, so I think it was just the spirits, the ancestors even, making their presence felt – and quite right too, as I dedicated this book to them.
The Raven was very busy, and I was lucky to have a slot – it was very kind of Tim and Jill, who were great, putting signs up and notices on tables, despite being packed out, on one of their busiest days – with a beer festival on, Bath Rugby playing on the Rec, a blackout, and then my book launch. The place was heaving, and we ruffled a few feathers, commandeering the tables – but it had been booked, and the signs were up. I would have been nervous about getting folk to quieten down, but I am used to shifting the energy when I start the storytelling circle once a month, and have to stand up in a noisy pub and get folks attention/ask them to be peaceful if they wish to stay or go downstairs to continue their conversations. At 6.15pm I stood up and started the proceedings – nervous as hell as usual. I was dressed in a black frock coat, white shirt, and blue crevatte – same colours as my book! I introduced myself, and explained what was to happen, then set about thanking the hosts, and all concerned, before beginning to describe the origins of the book – explaining how it was the book I wanted to write while I was writing The Long Woman. I read out the blurb, then the Notes, and then answered a couple of questions before responding to Skip’s request to read out an extract. I had planned to read the whole of Chapter 3, The Feathered Magician, but it was quite noisy, with folk milling about at the back, chatting by the bar – some guests, and some gatecrashers. I had to bellow out a lot of the talk, which became tiring after a while, and didn’t lend itself to subtlety of exposition. I couldn’t really go into the esoterica, so I gave broad sweeps, an overview, to whet people’s appetites. There was plenty I could have said, and wanted to, about the motivation behind the book and its meaning, but it didn’t feel conducive – too loud, too many people (good in a way – the room certainly had a ‘buzz’). I did talk about Samhain being the time to honour the ancestral dead and lost loved ones, and also about warfare and brotherhood.
It was a merry evening indeed, with many pints quaffed (including a fabulous ale called Merlin). We toasted the book with mead, aptly enough. The book was launched!
Afterwards, we hung about to chat to folk. There was many of my friends there, and it was difficult getting around everyone, though I tried my best, often having to have a drink with each group!
Ian went onto the Emporium Cabaret at Invention Arts, where Ash was playing, launching his new single – produced by Mr Sulis Underground himself. Along with the book and the tour T-shirt a hat-trick of accomplishment in one night! What a maestro.
I went onto a Halloween Party with a couple of friends – and tried to wind down after an emotionally charged night.
I wish it had been quieter so I could have gone into more depth, and revealed more, but there’s 20 opportunities to explore different aspects of the book – some will more ‘scholarly’ and it will be more apt to go into the archaeology etc then.
Peter Please suggested I need to share more of myself – an anecdote, the ‘personal touch’ – as people would buy the book if they are won over by my charm, etc, as it is in a way the person they buy, having met the artist. As in storytelling, it is the energy which counts in the end – the charisma of the performer, not the words, or the details. The less I read out from the book, the better.
In fact, I did want to share a very personal anecdote, but the space was too boozy and boisterous to disclose such information – and I wanted to keep the mood upbeat. This was meant to be a celebration after all. Instead I made a gag about how strange it was that 4 men should produce a baby, but that’s exactly how my book feels. I certainly had ‘labour pains’, and on its arrival I was the nervously critical parent, counting toes and fingers. I have no critical distance, and it was good to see some of the initial reaction. Folk seem impressed, and don’t notice the annoying little things I do, but the ‘parent’ is often the harshest critic of its offspring (and vice versa). We expect the most, because we love them so dearly, and have sweated blood and tears for them.
Nevertheless, a success. A great night, if a wild one! What a relief though!
I am so touched so many of my friends came out to wish the book well. It feels well and truly launched!
Questions:
How does Windsmith fit into the series – prequel, sequel, etc?
Why the name Isambard?
Can you read some out?
Attendance: 50+
Peat Moors
Oct 29th Sunday, 1pm,
Peat Moors Centre, Somerset Levels
I was looking forward to the chance of reading an extract of the book out in an Iron Age reconstruction roundhouse at the Peat Moors visitor centre, which recreates the GlastonburyLakeVillage, when the Somerset Levels were flooded.
After picking up the books from the Raven, Cathy and I made our way down to the isolated venue, over the Mendips, passed Glastonbury and out onto the Levels. It was a bright sunny day, and while I should have nursing the hangover from hell I felt fine (perhaps buzzing from the night before) whileas Cathy didn’t. However, it was difficult not to be cheerful on such a beautiful day.
We arrived about quarter to, and quickly set up. I was to read in one of the 3 roundhouses – fortunately the brightest and best ventilated, for they can get smokey. I brought a lantern for extra illumination but didn’t really need it, as my eyes adjusted to the twilight. It couldn’t be a more atmospheric venue, with a fire glowing in the centre, hangings, conical thatched roof with herbs curing, earth floor, straw bales and stools to sit on – perfect for the book, which is largely set in a Celtic ‘Iron Age’.
About half a dozen people gathered, Eddie introduced my, and I began. I started by talking about spending a night in one of the centre’s roundhouses, when I performed at the first Samhain Fair. It was the night a storm but I felt safe and snug inside the roundhouses, even though it had no doors – the wind blew around its organic shape. It felt like Grendel’s mother was clawing the roof of straw, but I survived the night. I awoke to scenes of some devastation though- the Levels were flooded, but the round house was intact. The Celts knew what they were doing, and I mentioned that they enjoyed comfort just like us, and had similar needs and desires. Our ancient ancestors are more like us than most realise.
More folk, including families turned up, as I discussed the origin’s of the book, read out the blurb, then an extract from a chapter – The Stone Lodge – which was perfect for the setting, as it describes a similar roundhouse. The atmosphere couldn’t have been better, and because of the peaceful attention of the audience, I was able to go into more detail about the ideas behind the book, and discussed the Gundestrup Cauldron, Bush Barrow Man, the Amesbury Archer, and how we are our ancestors (through genetic inheritance) citing the amazing local example of Cheddar Man, an 8000 year old skeleton, which was found to be the ancestor of a local school teacher, who possessed the same mitochondrial DNA, passed down through the female line. This was poignant, with parents and children present.
The talk was a good one, according to my friends present – probably a lot more intelligent than the boozy bellowing of the night before, though that was perhaps okay for the first night. Today was a far more sober occasion, though me and my friend did have a glass of free wine while watching the wicker man burn (with no Edward Woodward or Nicholas Cage of course!). It was ‘mini’ wicker man, so not scary, but it is great that the centre acknowledges Samhain in this way, with a fine speech by Eddie, as the Green Man, before he ignites it with a torch. This makes the end of the year for them too, as the centre closes for the winter. Before the burning, there was the annual storytelling ‘contest’ – the winner (this year chosen by ‘the Fates’, ie by lots) becoming the Bard of the Avalon Marshes. About half a dozen bards entered – all good in their own way, including the Unlimited Company, whom I had helped with their story in a workshop at the beginning of the week. It was great to see them perform the tale, and it went down well. They entertained the audience, which is what all storytellers hope to do. Watching the contest was poignant for me in other ways, as I was the first to perform at the venue, at the first fair, and being the Bard of Bath, gave Eddie the idea to hold his own Bardic Chair – so it’s great to see it flourish.
All in all, a satisfying event, even though we made no direct sales. More importantly, we spread the word of the Windsmith, and honoured the ancestors once more.
It feels we are doing the right thing, at the right time of year, for the right reasons – anything else is the icing on the cake.
A couple of poignant footnotes: after the talk I dashed to the garden centre café next door to grab a sandwich – they don’t do these on a Sunday, when they offer a full Sunday lunch instead, so I ended up being tempted by their vegetable bake, Yorkshire Puddings, roast potatoes, broccoli and veggie gravy, which my body appreciated. It turned out I was the last one to receive one of their meals, as they were closing that day, as the land was being sold. Sad to see such a fine establishment go. So, first one to tell, last one to eat!
The other thing which made the day extra special, was when my oldest friend Justin unexpectedly turned up with some mates, right at the tail-end of my talk. We ended up giving him a lift back to Glastonbury, where we met the vampires of Avalon in the local Co-op, but that’s another story!
Questions: Did you choose the name Kerne intentionally – aware of its connections to Cernunnos? How did you research the book?
Attending: 10
Swanage Moot
Oct 30th, 8pm The Red Lion, Swanage
Me and Marue were both looking forward to this one – a chance to meet up and celebrate both the book launch and Samhain with the good pagan folk of Swanage. I was delighted when I found out Sara could fit me into their legendary Halloween gathering, with its fancy dress and merry madness at the fine hostelry of The Red Lion.
After a slow and winding drive down we arrived around midday and made a beeline for the Earthlights café and shop, where we hooked up with Sara, Rudi and Jessica. We had a lovely lunch there, before going for a stroll along the seafront. Unfortunately, the weather had a different idea – as it started to rain – and so we resorted to Plan B, the pub, where we enjoyed a pint in the warm. Bidding Jessica goodbye for the time being as she went back to Gail’s to get vamped up, me and Ian walked up the road and popped into Phil and Nina’s for a cuppa. As Amber and Daisy played in front of the telly, we caught up with this lovely couple (Mr and Mrs Wessex Gathering). We were regaled with tales of bear-tracking in Canada by fearless Phil. Afterwards, we wandered down to the seafront and found a cosy chippy where we relapsed into a carb coma after partaking of their pomme frites. Back to the Red Lion, and half an hour to recharge dilithium crystals, before getting set up.
At seven we started to put the books out, and the night began. It would end eight hours later, at 3am! The landlord had a set up a marquee out the back, decorated splendidly with pumpkins and candles. Folk started to arrive in costume – fabulous costumes, some from Jessica’s old shop. The Dolmen had cancelled, because of van problems, and so Sara had recruited the services of a local musician known as Jesus Joe! He’s an evangelical Christian, so lord knows what he made of this pagan gathering – but they’re the friendliest, nicest bunch of pagans you’re ever likely to meet, and I hope he went away with the feeling that we are not all the ‘Devil’s Own’, no goats or babies were sacrificed – only brain cells, as much ale was quaffed. The only burnt offerings were from the BBQ. It was a merry occasion. Joe played bravely on as people turned up and mingled. He did some good covers, and no ‘happy clappy’ songs as we feared.
I went on later than expected, 9.30ish instead of 8.30, delayed by the queue for the BBQ. I did my best to stay alert and sober – it’s difficult staying ‘sharp’ late into the evening, when everyone else is winding down and getting wobbly. I finally was announced and began my talk, thanking Sara and the mooters for having me. I stood up throughout my talk, and only read at the end. The rest I extemporised, talking about formative influences, how the book is my offering to the ancestors, how I ‘walked between the worlds’ whilst writing it, journeying into the Afterlands. I told the tale of Dru the Windsmith (appropriately enough about religious tolerance between pagans and Christians), shared my ‘unmanning the long man’ anecdote and this time, my ‘sleeping at Cerne Abbas’ one as well, being in Dorset and all. I described how I had seen the chalk giant in the moonlight, how it had glowed like a sigil in the dark – landscape entoptics, I called it. This lead onto the Ogham, the Gundestrup Cauldron, and then a reading from ‘The Hills of Peace’. I finished my talk, and Ian presented a copy to Sara, who seemed moved. Then there was time for a couple of questions. Tammy asked how my friend had died (mentioned in the first anecdote about witnessing a death at an early age); another asked where did I get the phrase ‘an oak of his people’ from? It was getting late by then, and it was time for the fantastic fire show from FLAME. This was very impressive, with lots of audience participation. It was good to wind down after my talk, chat, drink and mingle. Folk wrote some lovely comments in the book, and we sold a t-shirt and a book – others declared they would be buying it from Earthlights. The talk seemed to go down well – not surprising, as you couldn’t hope for a more ‘sympathetic audience’. Knowing the predilection of the mooters, I talked about darker and deeper things than I normally would. It was good to explore the influences that went into the cauldron of its creation.
After the pub, some of us piled back to Sara and Rudi’s for mead and magic tricks. We watched some hysterically funny videos from the web, and staggered to bed happily in the wee small hours.
The next morning, nursing a suitably hellish hangover for Halloween, we bid farewell to Rudi, and, squinting in the sunlight, headed to the sea front, where we appeased our punished bodies with a much needed fry-up. Then we dropped 10 books off at Earthlights, having ‘one more cup of coffee for the road’. Saying goodbye to Sara, we headed back home to the mellow strains of Patti Smith. This feels like a ‘rock’n’roll book tour after all!
Glastonbury
Friday, 3rd November
George & Pilgrim, Glastonbury
Tonight's talk took place in the function room of the ancient 12th C.? pilgrim tavern on Glastonbury High St: the room was long and narrow, with plush furnishings and the blue-blooded visages of various kings and queens of England looking down on us - directly adjacent to me, at the front, were Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth 1st - our own Horned God and Faerie Queen for this evening. It was a very nice room, especially considering it was free.
The turn-out tonight was a little disappointing, but maybe only because I was expecting certain folk to turn up who didn't. However, we had 9 and actually we had some excellent questions. I was feeling mellow, and so I sat down this time and talked about the book's evolution in a more informal way, discussing my ideas about the afterlife and reading out the 'House of Partholon' chapter. Towards the end of the talk 2 ladies turned up who were fans of The Bardic Handbook. I filled them in as best I could, considering the talk was coming to an end (about 9.30pm by now) and read out the Notes. Afterwards I chatted with folk around the book stall. Lo and behold, my old friend Justin turned up as soon as I'd finished - just like at the Peat Moors! His timing is impeccably bad. Still, it was nice to see him and we all had a drink and a chat afterwards downstairs. We left soon after, feeling tired, Ian driving back home again. What a star!
1 woman, who sat at the front, bought 3 of my books, but otherwise it wasn't a good night for sales. Considering how many potential audience members there are in Glastonbury, it was a shame more didn't make it along to what was a free talk, after all.
Jamie George from Gothic Image was downstairs in the bar, but didn't bother to come up, and it was hard not to compare this night with the fabulous launch party of The Bardic Handbook at their shop in June, which was buzzing. Then we had Tim, Bard of Glastonbury, playing, with some of the Avalonian Free State Choir, but Tim was out of town this time. That night was also the big summer OBOD bash and the Meton full moon, so there was alot of druidy folk around, and the energy was up. The moon was two days from full this evening, and shining bright in the cold clear night, but where were the all the good folk of Avalon?
Saying that, Marue thought this was my best talk yet. Maybe I was more relaxed and able to go into deeper things. One of the joys of the tour has been able to explore and discuss different aspects of the book each time. Every time, my talk is slightly different - I never stick to any kind of script, only the basic format of intro, expo, chapter, Q&A.
Winchester and Bournemouth
5th November
Today was a double-whammy. Certainly a 5th of November to remember!
The Gaia Tree, Winchester
It was great to return to this lovely shop run by Melody Buckland, after coming to give a talk about The Long Woman a couple of years ago when it opened. It's just about to move to new premises, so first in, last out! Melody is a fine hostess, providing some lovely nibbles and wine - and later on, after my talk, hot chocolate! It was a clear but cold day as we drove across Wiltshire into Hampshire. Upon arrival we needed an immediate caffeine and cocoa bean injection. By that time, Gaia Tree was open and we set up. As ever, the shop was full of delights, and we perused whilst we waiting, Marue succumbing to the goblins' cry of 'Come buy! Come buy!', purchasing a couple of CDs and a set of 3 splendid wooden chests.
After waiting awhile for more to turn up, I started my talk about 1pm to about 10 folk. I talked about being a bard, about the research I undertook for the book, my 'method writing', reading out 'The Feathered Magician', before answering questions. There was an excellent discussion, with some fascinating questions asked. Melody and Donna requested a favourite poem of theirs, 'Phone Tree', so I did this as a kind of encore. Each talk is different!
We sold a good number of books, and the shop took 5. Although this was a small gathering, it was one of the most successful yet. Once again, it is the people that make it so special.
Brunswick Hotel, Bournemouth
This was the second date of the day, set up courtesy of Michael who runs the BIG moot down there (Bournemouth Independent Pagans). We arrived in good time to go 'hunting and gathering', discovering at the bottom of the road a fantastic array of restaurants and cafe, with a large predominance of North African much to our surprise and delight. Marue was over the moon, having been recently to Sinai. We found a fantastic place called Baraka, with amazing mezas and lovely service. It was difficult to extricate ourselves from this cosy womb, but we did: making our way to the Brunswick, which was a very different kind of establishment. On walking into the main bar, it seemed we had stumbled into a working mens' club by mistake, with the down-to-earth clientele engrossed in a game of 'card bingo'. While the landlord called out each card to the smoky gathering, we ensconced ourselves in big leather armchairs and nursed our pints, enjoy the comfort and realising this was a great community pub, full of loyal locals. In a spare moment, the landlord opened up the 'back room' which turned out to be this rather magnificent wooden hall with an impressive fire place. We set up as he got the log fire going. Excellent! We could see why Michael chose this as a venue for his moot. He soon turned up, with a small group of 'hard core' members in dribs and drabs - many of whom we knew from summer camps. We appreciated these good folk coming out on a cold night, on bonfire night, and the night of the full moon, when many pagans would be busy. It was also the weekend of Witchfest, so many were still away, or still recovering if they had made it back. Nevertheless, we had a fine night, with one of the best discussions. Certainly it was one of the most atmospheric of venues, with the lights lowered and the fire roaring - perfect for storytelling. The wooden floors and high ceiling also enhanced the effect, as I told the story of Dru the Windsmith again. Afterwards, I talked about 'unmanning the long man' and Cerne Abbas, by moonlight, which seemed to inspire some to see chalk giants in a different light. The questions were good. I did my best to answer them, without digressing or waffling as I can do! Tai asked which chapter did I enjoy researching the most. Immediately, 'The Dead Side' came to mind, inspired by my flight with Robin Acton over the New Forest and the Isle of Wight.
Afterwards, we quaffed more ale, even Kali the Dalmation (everyone except Marue, who had the Herculean task of driving us back home - we would have crashed over at Julie's but he had to get to Cheltenham the next morning for a training day. What a punishing schedule!). We parted company with plans to return to the moot, maybe for another performance, and support Michael's proposed event: the Big BIG! Though it was small this time, it was certainly a case of quality, instead of quantity. It was a warm gathering on a chilly night, and we departed with much hugging! Oaths of friendship re-affirmed, the circles of our communities strengthened, we wended our way home - guided initally by Michael as he made his way home ahead of us - the road rendered tricky, even treacherous, as we plunged into pools of freezing fog which appeared suddenly along the undulating bends. Spaced out with fatigued, it did feel like flying through the aether in a spaceship as the headlights made the white mist glow. Marue's homing instinct and autopilot kicked in, somehow getting us home in one piece...to live to tell the tale. What a hero!
Ellwood Books, Salisbury
Monday, 6th November
Once again, we ventured out into the world of mist and moonlight, Marue clocking up more miles after driving to Cheltenham and back today as well. It feels like we're living in the car at the moment: there's certainly been no chance to unload as our shiny chariot acquires more booty and clutter: boxes of books, displays, wooden trunks, cat milk...
Thanks to the wonders of Routeplanner we made it easily to the venue, where we were surprised and delighted to discover something of a soiree going on already, with a healthy crowd milling about nibbling and quaffing. Marc had laid on a splendid spread, much to our relief - as we hadn't had a chance to catch any dinner on the way down.
About 8, we piled into the middle room, many sitting on the floor due to lack of seats, so that it resembled a beatnik gathering - reminding me of Shakespeare & Co., Paris, where I ended my last tour. I plunged in, introducing myself, talking about the book, and reading 'The Dead Side', which is set in the vicinity (Sarum). It seemed apt as well because of the fog - driving through it feels like flying. I also talked about another bit of local interest - the Amesbury Archer, and it turned out the man who created the website for the Wessex Archaeological Trust came along later. Another uncanny connection!
Afterwards there were some good questions: what poetry do I like? Are you a sceptic or a believer? Have you taken into consideration reincarnation in your system?
We stayed around to chat. I signed alot of books. It was great to see The Long Woman getting interest again, after I talked about it in relation to Windsmith. And Green Fire and The Bardic Handbook were snapped up as well - especially the latter. We sold out of virtually everything. Finally, it seems all our hard work is starting to pay off. I likened it to getting a fire going - you start with tiny kindling, small twigs, lots of patience, and suddenly it flares up. Tonight we basked in its glow a little.
And once more, we met some lovely people - a whole new circle, a very lively grove. It turned there were some very switched on folk in the audience. For once, I had held back on the more esoteric stuff, worried about losing or alienating those gathered, but actually most of them turned out to be druids! Marc and Lua, his Brazilian assistant, are quite a double act, and Lua definitely stole the show by the end of the night.
We left on a high, happy to have met such a great bunch of folk.
Atlantis Bookshop, London
Friday 10th November
Atlantis Bookshop, Holburn, 7pm
It is always a pleasure to talk at this enchanting bookshop, dating back to the early 1920s and still independently owned. Geraldine and her daughter Bali, always make me feel welcome and put on a lovely wine and cheese buffet for folk brave enough to come out on a cold night. It looked like it was going to thin on the ground, but in the end we had a full house, which admittedly doesn't take much in this small but beautiful shop, but it was good to see all the seats taken up, with Geraldine forced to stand up at the back for the duration of my talk. It was nice to see some friends there, and some fans of The Long Woman. I talked about both, and afterlife traditions, then read out 'Opening of the Mouth', with a preamble anecdote about my experience at the source of the Styx. Genetics cropped up in the discussion afterwards, and there were some good questions: were you surprised or challenged by where the story took you this time?
A druid chatted with me enthusiastically afterwards, having started the evening by commenting that most talks 'don't seem to go anywhere' - yet he seemed to respond warmly to mine.
There were some lovely comments written in the book, and 2 t-shirts were sold! Afterwards, Kirsten, Louise, Mark and myself decamped to the hostelry over the road for a much appreciated 'post-op' pint - which always helps my brain decelerate from 100mph to a more sleep conducive momentum.
Bidding goodbye to Kirsten, Mark drove his housemate, LA, and me back to his place in Tolworth, stopping for scooby snacks and breakfast supplies on the way.
A good night, if a tiring one - I always find London exhausting, being a country lad at heart!
Giant's Rest, Wilmington
Saturday, 11th November
Giant's Rest, Wilmington
This one was always going to be a more sentimental value than anything. As in my Long Woman tour I thought it important to 'pay my respects' to the long fellow since he has given me a great deal of inspiration over the last few years.
I caught the train down to Eastbourne and was forced to get an expensive taxi to Wilmington having just missed the (infrequent) bus. It was, however, worth it, because it meant I could spend some time visiting the Long Man before my talk started at 3pm. It was a cold but glorious sunny day and I felt the same thrill as ever, approaching the mysterious chalk figure (delineated by bricks, but that's another story). I was fortunate enough to have him to myself for a while - long enough to leave an offering at his feet and utter my prayers on the steep flank of Windover hill, overlooking the Sussex Weald. I made myself stop after my long journey and feel the wind on my face, listening to its endless susurration.
Feeling centred and satisfied I wended my way back to the Giant's Rest for a cosy pint, reading the paper to while away the time until 3. I was hoping to see Damh the Bard, but he was busy, but lo behold, Philip Carr Gom turned up and it was real pleasure to finally have a decent chat with him, having me him briefly at my Bardic Handbook launch in Glastonbury in the summer. It just so happened that a revised Druid Way was hot off the press, and he came bearing copies. I was touched when Philip pointed out the mention of The Long Woman in the new preface. We exchanged books - which seemed symbolic, here at this symbol of balance, even more poignant on Armistic Day, when it seemed like a large number eleven to me: now that it is forever associated with the First World War, in my imagination at least. It is a powerful 'gateway' whatever it's origins and meaning, and I look forward to reading Philip's interpretation of this resonant numinous landscape: far more his neck of the woods, than mine. I was relieved he didn't act as though I was stepping on his toes in my use of the icon and the area, (and the Bardic Handbook) but Philip was magnaminous and gracious, as one would expect of a spiritual leader/teacher.
Talking of teachers, the only other person who made it to my talk today was Jan (aka Otter), a fellow OU tutor. She had drive 3 hrs from Thanet, so I really appreciated her presence, and we 3 had a nice discussion. It felt a little odd, giving my talk to 2 people, but it's all part of the ritual, I guess: honour was given to the Long Man through my words. I read out a different chapter than usual, 'windwalker', and then it was time for Philip to go. Jerry Bird turned up soon after, much to my relief, as I had forgotten to bring down his number. He had a pint of Harveys, before we bid goodbye to Jan and headed back to Eastbourne. We stopped off at his and Diane's place for a sandwich and a cuppa before heading to Jerry's gig that night: playing with Rattlebone at a barndance in a local school. This was for teachers and partners, and me and Diane sat at the back, feeling like the gatecrashers/hangers on we were, but there was plenty of food and drink, and the atmosphere was jolly. We joined in with a few of the dances, but it's not really my bag. I'd prefer 'freestyle'. Nevertheless, Dave the caller was entertaining and the music was of course excellent. It was nice to turn the brain off for an evening. Afterwards, we made last orders at the Dolphin: far more my cup of tea. Still, it was good to see teachers letting their hair down - they deserve it, since they work so hard. I just wondered what their pupils would have thought...
The Lamb Inn, Eastbourne
Sunday, 12th November
Lamb Inn, Eastbourne
This was a pleasant day despite the poor turn-out (not through lack of effort on Jerry's part, who promoted it across town). We rose late and had some much needed Vitamin C/B12/protein (OJ, egg and marmite on toast), but it was the lovely walk along the CuckmereValley which really sorted my hangover out. Taking Freya with us, J&D's charming Jack Russel/Yorkshire Terrier cross, we took the scenic route to the Seven Sisters, driving over Beachy Head with its spectacular views and new 'henges' to prevent lemming carowners from ending it all. It was a clear, fresh day and the meander along the serpentine river to the seashore really blew away the cobwebs. On the shingle beach the magnificent white cliffs were revealed to the left, and I thought of the shores of LakeMandorla in my story, where the Valley of the Chalk Folk meets the wide expanse of water. I was also reminded of my next novel, which is ocean-based. The shoreline has such a rich aesthetic: the colours and textures are so vivid. It really awakens the senses.
Afterwards, our appetites sharpened, we had a sensational lunch at The Dolphin - worth every penny. Raising ourselves from our food-comas, we made our way to the Lamb, where we lugged boxes of books up to the attic room, home of a folk night, and one errant bard. We set up, but only one person turned up disappointingly. I started anyhow, hoping others would manifest, but they didn't until the end when another friend of Jerry and Diane's turned up. Still, Steve's presence was welcome in the Q&A session - again, there were some good questions, though for the life of me I can't recall any, except Steve's - which was about The Bardic Handbook!
We went downstairs to enjoy the fine atmosphere of this, the oldest pub in Eastbourne, sitting by the splendid sagging fireplace - and whethere I was splendid, I don't know, but I certainly felt sagging by that point after a heavy lunch and too many beers over the last 3 days.
Jerry and Diane dropped me off at the station where I began the first leg (by coach) of my long journey home. 5 hours later, I arrived weary but grateful back at my front door.
It's always good coming home, however nice it is to go away. Once again, it was the connections made or reaffirmed which made this particular leg of the tour worthwhile and enjoyable. Hopefully fame and riches will come later!
Bath to Malvern
Saturday 18th November
Bath to Malvern
Although our venue in Malvern didn't manifest we decided to make the most of our run up into the Midlands by stopping off at bookshops along the way to see who would be willing to stock 'Windsmith'.
It was a cold clear winter's day when we set off Saturday morning for our next long weekend.
We wended our way up the A46, stopping at Nailsworth - where we got some encouraging sounds from a couple of shops, who took sample copies to look at. We then popped into Stroud, where we didn't get any interest, though we did enjoy walking around the lively Farmers Market, sampling various produce. Next was Tewkesbury, which proved quite a negative experience. The only bookshop we found had the unfriendliest bookseller in the world - he was dismissively rude to me when I approached him at the counter. It makes one feel like you are going to them cap in hand, when in fact without writers, booksellers wouldn't have a living. I felt this at the London Book Fair, which was incredibly corporate - it was all big business deals, and I, as a writer trying to get a deal, was made to feel like a complete pariah, the odd one out. Yet without writers like me there would not be a booktrade - we are their bread and butter, so more respect please! The icing on the cack was Ian getting a ticket just as we arrived back at the car park (which we hadn't noticed was pay and display - crap, I know, but the ticket machine wasn't obvious). The only good thing about Tewkesbury (too Tudor for Ian's tastes) was the Abbey, with more than its fair share of pagan carvings - in a pew Ian showed me a half-woman, half-beast, parting her hairy buttocks! And in the ceiling above the Lady's Chapel there was a veritable grove of green men, carved into the boss stones. Others peered out from stone foliage around the Abbey. It was good to see them celebrating these fellows in the Abbey shop, with mugs, fridge magnets and postcards, but the hairy woman was absent. Despite this highlight, we left under a cloud. A pox on medieval Tewkesbury!
We received a far warmer welcome in Malvern, where Ian has old friends. We immediately got a 'Windsmith' in the local New Age shop - they put it straight on the shelves. More like it! We thawed out in a cafe called Asylum, having some amazing carrot cake. Then we parked up by Sarah and Andy's - where we were staying - and walked back into town, to have a cosy pint in The Unicorn. We had 3 hours to kill before the main event started - this time it wasn't my talk, but a gig by a Space rock band called Omnia Opera, who were playing in a local youth centre. It was a 20th anniversary reunion gig, with lots of old heads crawling out of the woodwork. Ian used to gig with them in his punk band, and was still known by his nickname from back then, Dee (for 'deranged'!). By the time we got to the gig we'd already had 3 pints, having gone for a curry. It was to be start of a very boozy night. OO were supported by a smart tight band called Authority. We hung out and got chatting to folk with whom we found connections from the past - in my case, Coventry, where I did my Fine Art degree. It was going to be an evening of 'blasts from the past' as we jumped around to OO's great sweeping space rock riffs. We staggered to an after show party, where more beer was imbibed and bodies jigged about - but by 3am I was seriously flagging. Fortunately, a lift was provided back to our hosts (even though they were still at the party - kind people) and we could finally crash, surrounded by cats.
In the morning, we shared breakfast with Sarah and her many guests - the support band had stayed as well. We gave a comp to our hosts, and Sarah offered to set a reading up in Malvern.
The fact we were on tour inevitably surfaced - the tour Tshirt I was wearing was a bit of a giveaway, and there was some interest in the book - not that I was in any fit state to talk about it, having drunk for 10 hours the evening before. Thank goodness for the wonders of marmite, tea and fresh air. It would take until the evening before I felt up to speed again. Fortunately, we had a leisurely day to meander to Milton Keynes - going via Walsall where we picked up Jake, Ian's son, and chilled out for a couple of hours, checking out the new Bond flick, and getting another curry (Ian's 'addiction'). By then, we started to feel human again...
Milton Keynes
Sunday 19th November
Earth Lore Moot, Bradwell Community Centre
Leaving Walsall, we made our way to the home of the concrete cows and endless roundabouts. We had to drink gallons of coffee to stay awake - although I don't think Nescafe qualifies as coffee: foul stuff! We were forced to drink some in the local pub while we waited for the mooters to arrive and open up. The venue was a new bright hall. We arrived and introduced ourselves. They seemed friendly enough. We set up and waited for more to arrive, but alas, it was 'their lowest turn out yet'. Still, there were about a ten there, and they all seemed interested. Hoping for a second wind, I began. Every time, I 'wing it' and let the Awen take me where it wants to, and it hasn't let me down yet. I have felt very tired and uninspired before several of these talks, but each time the Awen does kick in, and I find myself waffling on without stopping for an hour! Every time, I feel I could have done better - but that's just me. Folk responded favourably, and we sold a few books. As to be expected from such a crowd, there were a couple of intelligent questions: do you find the process of writing the book magickal in any way? Others came up to chat afterwards, and some lovely comments were written in the book.
Cherylee guided us back to hers, where she had so hospitably offered to put me and Ian up. We sat up for a while, having a drink to wind down. Ian and C talked cats. The resident feline, Peanut, ensconced himself on Ian's lap, refusing to let go when he eventually got up. I crashed on the couch, letting my driver have a well-deserved bed - he'd been doing all the hard work, after all. Peanut settled down on top of me, and that was that, until woken up about 4.30am by C's husband leaving for work. We had a couple of cups of coffee when C rose around 8, and we were on the road again.
Northampton
Monday, 20th November
University of Northampton
This was always going to be a nostalgia trip for me - revisiting my old home town and the college I had studied my Foundation in Art and Design in 18 years ago... To return as a visiting lecturer and published author - well, who would have thought it!
I wish I had let me old art teachers know - I had announced it to my friends in the town. It was thanks to Rob Farmer that this opportunity arose - he put me in touch with Dr Chris Ringrose of the English Studies Department.
We arrived in town around 9ish, stopping for a great veggie breakfast at the Giggling Sausage in Far Cotton. This was my old stomping ground - we had visited some of Ian's in Walsall. It was nice showing him around some of the more interesting aspects of the town: the Saxon and Templar churches, the Market Square, Kettering and Welly Road with their Indian shops and Balti houses (always a point of interest for Ian).
After we had found the room and set up I let Ian off the hook - he's heard me waffle on too many times already and needed some time out, so he went off to chill.
It was a thrill to back in my old college. I bumped into a fellow art student of Nene (as it used to be called) who was also living in the same flat I used to share with my old Zeitgeister Justin: uncanny! Like with Ian in Malvern, there were lots of connections and synchronicities with the past - inevitable in a place I spent over 20 years.
There were about a dozen students - more than I was expecting - but still a low turn out for the event, which was open to all years, and the general public. I talked about my journey as a writer, from being an Art Student at Nene to now: as well my latest novel. It was alot to fit into an hour, which is all I had, but I more or less managed it, as well as reading out the prologue - The Angel of No Man's Land - though if I did it with panache and intelligence, I don't know. I was very tired, and I have spoken so much, to quite a few people, over this last month, that my words are starting to feel all 'used up'. When I feel like that I know it's time to stop and be silent for a while. But mission accomplished, for now... The book is out there - published! It has definitely been 'made public' in a month of events. Alot of output, it seems - with not much input, but energy is never wasted, and our efforts will be reciprocated in one way or another - if not soon, then a year or two down the line - but for now, it feels my bardic batteries are flat. We have met so many lovely people, and have had some really great times - it has been successful in many ways - but time to wind in for a while.
The first burst is over - a dozen dates nailed. The hard work of 'getting it out there' (the Second Marathon) is done. Other events are 'one-offs'. There's no more long weekends planned for some time. Me and Ian can attend to putting our own - neglected - houses in order, but we should feel proud of our achievement:
'Windsmith' has been well and truly manifested!
Totnes
Sunday, 10th December
Bogan House, Totnes
Severe weather warnings didn't bode well as we set off for deepest Devon - 'we' this time consisting of myself and my partner, Cathy, who offered to do the driving honours for this leg of the tour. By the time we got to Brutus' town, it was lashing down, and our mooch around the shops along the pretty High Street was somewhat curtailed by the empirical fact that most were shut, this being a Sunday and all. It seems Totnesians honour the Sabbath.
After a reviving cuppa in the 'Ticklemore cafe' we took shelter the Birdwood Gallery, where our host, Jeffrey Gale, was holding an exhibition of his watercolours inspired by Kashmir, Tibet, the Himalayas and Siberia - which chimed well with Windsmith, set in the Land Beyond the East Wind, an analogue of the Central Asian Steppe. We chatted over another cuppa and a slice of fruit cake, hearing of Jeffrey's travels in the East. We then, rather prosaically, went to pick up the OHP projector and screen in the rain.
We unloaded everything outside Bogan House and set up, before going for a quick snack at the Heart of Asia restaurant (running theme). It would perhaps seem like I spent the day eating - but all I had for my dinner was some spring rolls, as time was pressing.
I returned to Bogan House, a lovely old building, now housing a costume museum - with character and possibly its own resident ghost at the top of the stairs by the loo (much to Cathy's displeasure). At 7.30pm only 6 folk had turned up, and 3 of those were my friends. It was indeed a pig of a night - but even so, it was somewhat disappointing. Nevertheless, the show must go on. Jeffrey introduced me and I began, this time using images of ancient monuments, chalk giants, etc, to illustrate my talk - this provided a focus.
I talked for an hour about the book, then read out an extract (Windwalker, set on the Steppe) before we broke for hot drinks - as the room was cold (Jeffrey had forgot to put the heating on), though all my hot air kept me warm.
We reconvened, and I answered questions: about bardic mysteries, whether I worked with the seasons, and about the windsmith. Jeffrey added a few pearls as well, and it all ended amicably. Not many books were sold, but it was nice to see my friends. Shame everyone had to dash, as I greatly needed a beer to wind down (should have took some with me), but actually on the way back to Exeter, where we were staying - at Shane and Matthews - I struggled to stay awake and navigate, as Cathy braved the awful driving conditions. I felt completed depleted, and rather demoralised, having had very little reciprocation for my effort. It's always more draining when the audience is small - one gives much and gets little back, whileas with a larger, livelier audience, there's more energy around (in the room/venue) and one's efforts seem to pay off more. As the day before, at the Green Fair in Bath, where Sulis/Awen had a stall, it had been a loss-making enterprise. But energy is never wasted, and perhaps something may come from this seed sown in Devon at some point. Who knows?
It was nice staying at Shane and Matthews - a very bardic couple, who live in a characterful cottage. They entertained us with funny accents and my weary bones were warmed by a mug of cocoa, but I felt barded out and ready for bed.
I feel like hibernating now, and felt like the proverbial bear with a sore head in the morning, despite my bowl of porridge.
It feels like we have exerted alot of effort with Windsmith, and it would be nice to have some reciprocation at some point - slogging boxes of books around can be demoralising (though when the people are nice, it makes it all worth it).
Still, there was a good feature about the book in the Western Daily Press on Friday ('A Bard's Tale of the Ancient Celtic Past') and there's a couple more gigs before the year is out - so let's hope Santa brings us some good fortune.
Kevan
Weymouth
Weymouth Moot
Marquess of Granby
13th December
It was good to be on the road again with Marue - and this time there was no freezing fog or lashing rain. We had South once more, down the good ole' A36, then into deepest Dorset.
This tour 'previewed' at the Witches Ball in Dorchester organised by the Dolmen so it seemed apt to end in their home town.
We grabbed some food on arrival and then set up - to the side of the pub, with only a screen separating us from the bar and the muzak.
It was nice to see the Dolmen again - the nicest bunch of pagan rockers you're ever likely to meet. Melkin (their manager) organised the evening and gave the talk a good plug in their magazine.
I talked for an hour, including the reading this time - choosing 'Offerings' to read out, a suitable chapter as we approached the winter solstice.
After a beer break I answered some interesting questions:
...what do you think happens when we die?
...was there an event which triggered the writing of this book?
...is it always easy for you to write?
I received three cheers from the mooters, led by Melkin - which was nice,
then I drew the raffle, which helped go towards the petrol, which was nice of them as well.
Afterwards we mingled and I finally got to talk with Taloch - he was somewhat preoccupied as his missus was expecting any moment! With him was a man who had found an amazing Celtic head at MaidenCastle - it was tiny, but radiated mystery. I got to hold it briefly, which was a thrill. I proposed to Taloch my 577 initiative and he sounded interested, and the various camps planned for next year were almost mentioned: sounds like it's going to be the year of the Dolmen.
It's great to be made welcome into such a creative and friendly tribe: true ambassadors of their path.
Marue motored us back home fuelled by Red Bull and coffee. The roads were clear, and we arrived home about 1ish. It had been a good night - I felt alot more positive than after Totnes. It felt like the effort had been worth it this. We are slowly inching towards breaking even!
Kevan
OBOD Bash, Glasto
OBOD Winter Bash
GlastonburyTown Hall
Saturday 16th December
This was an unexpected addition to the tour, when I was offered a space on a friend’s stall at this big druidic powwow. It seemed apt, as their summer one coincided with the launch of my last book, the Bardic Handbook, and too good a chance to miss – with so many druids in Glastonbury town.
My new friend from Numpty (nickname for my old home town) – met at the Hallowe'en Festival, then again at the University of Northampton – picked me up in her Mandymobile after a pitstop cuppa. Not only does she share my Alma Mater, having done Graphic Design around the time I was doing my Foundation in Art and Design at what was then NeneCollege – this talented person also happens to live in the same house I used to share with a mate in Withnail and I fashion. Wyrd!
We wended our way down to Avalon along the faery ways. After checking in at Backpackers, we set up the stall at the Town hall, bumping into a few obods. We were invited to dinner with Marc from Salisbury (of Ellwood Editions) and friends, so we joined them for a pizza over the road. The Italian restaurant was filled with familiar faces – like some kind of druidic conspiracy.
After nosh, we went to the Who’d a Thought It pub, which was similarly taken over by tree-hugging types. A bard playing at the bash, Jim Faupel, entertained us with some fine tunes, and the atmosphere was very nice indeed as friends caught up with one another. If only my local was like this – the perfect druid pub – but maybe it’s just as well it isn’t: it would be too tempting to go out every night.
Saturday dawned – but I missed it, unlike the early birds who took part in the ceremony at Chalice Well. Apparently there was a sea of mist making the Tor an island once more, but it had burnt off by the time I arose, somewhat groggily around 10 after a night’s sleep broken by snoring and doors slamming.
I joined Mandy in the stall room, and the feeding frenzy had already started as druids availed themselves of pagan retail therapy. I helped out a bit until it was time for Philip’s annual pep talk in the main hall, when it went dead – then I went for a bimble about the town in the lovely winter sunshine, ending up on Wearyall Hill at noon. It was nice to have some peace and earth-contact, before returning to the madding crowd – it was going to be a sociable weekend.
I helped at the stall all afternoon, and it was pleasant chatting and connecting with folk. I sold a few books, and covered some of my costs – but it was worth being there anyway, just to see and be seen, and to party!
After we’d packed up, I repaired to the George & Pilgrim for a quiet pint and a read of the paper, only to discover half of the obod’s had decamped there to. I was invited to join a table with Philip, Rowan, Ronald and Ana among others, and rather than be a grumpy monkey, I availed myself of the offer, and found myself having a pleasant chat with a fascinating group of people. At one point it seemed like we were in Arthur’s Court at Camelot, with Carr-Gomm as the magnaminous King, Professor Hutton as Merlin, dark-locked Ana as Morgan, an ardent New-Zealander as Gawain, and each one of us fitting some role from the Matter of Britain (modesty prevents me from telling you what me and Mandy were). Glastonbury was working its magic on my imagination. Or maybe it was just the beer.
We returned to the Town Hall just in time to grab a table for the splendid banquet. The room looked great, decorated with all the grove banners, like a medieval court – as did the druids in their glad-rags. This was a kind of ‘works Xmas do’ for the obods, and very nice it was too. It felt like a privilege to be there, and it was nice to see such nice folk let down their hair.
There was a packed evening of fine bardic entertainment, with both budding and experienced bards performing – it was agreeable being a punter for once, just imbibing the awen and bonhomie.
The evening really kicked off when the tables and chairs were pushed back and the obodies began to cut some rug. The highlight for me was a druidic cover of Scissor Sisters ‘Take your Mama out tonight’! A splendid band called Dragonsfly headlined – who got virtually everyone dancing with their eclectic East-West Fusion.
I was regaled with glasses of Druid’s Delight (Moniac Mead plus Moet & Chandon)
by the Sylvan Grove, who know how to party in style. They misbehaved delightfully, throwing glowsticks around at one point. They all looked great – Marc a Lord of Misrule if ever there was one – as did Mandy, in a svelte velvet number.
Food and drink were all included in the ticket – so it became quite an indulgent occasion…much to my regret later.
At the stroke of midnight the light’s came on and the place was tidied up by many busy hands in the blink of an air – I’ve never met a more conscientious lot. Like a load of Brownies, these obod folk. Perhaps I’ll leave a glass of mead and a vol-au-vent and one’ll come around and tidy my place up for me.
After, we piled into The Crown for last orders, a wonderfully wild thing called Charlotte managing to knock over a pint and soak my jeans. Then we carried on the party (easy to regret it now – it seemed like a good idea at the time) in the TV lounge of the hostel. A minstrel turned up with boxes of wine, and the fun began. We had a great singalong, joined by a load of teenagers, who had crashed the hostel. It was an ‘inter-generational’ moment, but the music and the good vibes reached across the age divide. The kids probably enjoyed seeing adults making fools of themselves and just having a laugh. The partying carried on until at least 4, when I staggered to my bunk.
I was woken up (too soon!) at nine-ish, and slowly arose, as though from the dead, and I felt (and looked) like death warmed up all day – I couldn’t even manage to finish the veggie breakfast I bought for me and Mandy in Heaphy’s. I felt decidedly ill, and had to crash in the Mandymobile for a bit while Mandy went dowsing in the Abbey. My snooze helped a little, and I went in search of coffee and reading matter. Bumped into M again, and we went up the Tor before hitting the road – the fresh air, sunlight and leyvibes doing me the world of good.
And then it was time to leave Avalon, back to our respective abodes. M dropped me off and I bid her a fond farewell – a new friend made.
Entry for 02 January 2007
The Cauldron, Bag End, Bath
After the faerie dust of Yule had settled, (with sighs of relief from elves everywhere) I've been making the most of these Halcyon Days to work on a new draft of the follow-up to Windsmith: 'The Well Under The Sea', my next novel. I wrote this over the winter of 2005-6, and worked on it again while on bardic retreat on BardseyIsland in September. Since there was no electricity on the tiny island off the coast of North-West Wales, I corrected a hard copy of the MS by hand - I am now incorporating those amendments into the electronic file. I've finished book one of three, and I'm looking forward to finally sharing it with people. One's latest project always seems the most exciting, but I truly feel The Well is especially enchanting and exciting. The awen really flowed with this one, and I am proud of what I consider to be my best writing yet - though only time will tell if it is of any merit. It entertained and enthralled me, anyway!
I'm hoping The Well... will be out in the Autumn, to coincide with the launch of my next non-fiction book, 'LostIslands', from Heart of Albion Press - both deal with similar subjects, though in different forms.
And I'm looking forward to embarking on the next Windsmith novel later this year (touchwood).
The adventure continues!
Happy New Year!
BRLSI, Bath
Tuesday, 23rd January 2007
I'm out of hibernation (kind of) and back on the road this week.
Dusted off my crevatte to give a talk at the Bath Royal Literary & Scientific Institution this week (aka the 'Buffalo Club' to Marue).
I had talked there before about my previous novel The Long Woman, to a total of 3 people - and one of them was the organiser! He felt so bad about that, he invited me back to make amends. Part of the deal is a lovely dinner afterwards, so can't complain.
I felt a bit rusty - not quite as up to speed as when we were deep in the tour - but it all seemed to tumble out, helped by the OHP acetates, illustrating the book.
This was my second talk in Bath, and it was good to go into more detail - as the first time, the launch at The Raven, was a rather rowdy affair. I went into the esoteric detail I was unable to then. Alot of the night seemed to be spent discussing the afterlife - what with the questions inclining in that direction - so it got quite metaphysical.
I was delighted that Skip, Richard and Ian made it - moral support!
We went for a bite and a drink at the Firehouse Rotisserie afterwards.
Does anyone know what a rotisserie is, anyway?
There's been a couple of reviews since December - both positive - and the first teleorders, probably from the local Waterstones, getting stock in for the Bath Literature Festival, which I feature in, as performer (with Fire Springs, on 7th) and lecturer (Desiring Dragons dayschool, 1oth).
My Level 2 OU course, Creative Writing, kicks in next month, along with 2 evening classes, plus rehearsals for our Lit Fest gig (Pilgrims of Love).
And I somehow have to find time to edit 'LostIslands'.
So much for the quiet life!
Kevan
WiltshireHeritageMuseum, Devizes
Saturday, 27th January, 2.30pm
I had been looking forward to this chance to talk in this little gem of a museum, which has a hoard of prehistoric treasures thanks largely to two gentlemen archaeologists Cunnington and Colt-hoare. It was here I came across the remarkable grave goods of Bush Barrow Man, which inspired in part my story - gold breastplate, buckle, brooch, round milk-white stone and ceremonial mace - I feature them in 'Windsmith', when Kerne finds himself becoming his own ancestor, through the temporal paradoxes of the Otherworld.
I felt in a bit of a temporal paradox today, having been awake until 4am the previous night after a rip-roaring bardic showcase at St James Wine Vaults in Bath (where Johnny Depp has been spotted). Cap'n Jack Sparrow wasn't propping up the bar that night, but there was an 'embarrassment of bards', with performances from both Bath's chaired and honorary bards: Richard Carder, Moyra Caldecott, myself, Brendan the Pop Poet, Mo the People's Nun and Ash - the reigning bard. There was several folk missing, including Tim, our chief druid, who's ill in hospital at the moment - we send him healing wishes. It was good to see lots of others there though. It was a night of a thousand bards. Skip, whose drawing I have included in the last entry (BRLSI) drew the performers - and Helen drew him.
The talk at Devizes wasn't as well-attended - in fact, there were only 2 people in the audience, and one was the organiser, Rick Rowland! (3, if you include the stuffed lion watching me from its case - rather unpleasant, especially considering it was an extinct species of lion that some stupid Victorian 'bagged'). However, it was worth going there to take books (their shop took ten copies, and they owed me for seven of The Long Woman) and I always enjoy talking about my work, and so I gave the full lecture anyway, referring to Bush Barrow Man and other bits of archaeology that went into the book.
There's no more official dates left 0f the tour, although I'm giving a talk for the Bath Literature Festival on 10th March, entitled Desiring Dragons: imagination in fiction, so I may well talk about 'Windsmith' then, but for now I'll sign off.