The Witching Hour...

...our net-based show, will be going live tonight, from midnight GMT, on:

http://www.nettalkradio.co.uk

- featuring an interview on Druidry with Ronald Hutton*, some discussion from our audience, some seasonal folklore from me, and quite a lot of pagan music.

Wish us luck. I'm not panicking yet. Ask me again at 11.55 pm. ;-)

* and I apologise in advance for being fatuous about Dracula.

Sensei stories

triciasullivan has a most interesting post on being a woman and undertaking martial arts. I posted the stuff below in response. Those of you who do know what you're talking about will have to forgive me if I use some incorrect terminology. I'm no expert.

A close friend of mine in Somerset used to work for one of the first people to set up a judo centre in Britain: her ex husband (an unpleasant, violent man) was one of the students. The actual sensei, who spent some time over here in (IIRC), the 50s, was Japanese and Jeannie, my friend, remembers one of the first judo competitions in the UK. The Japanese master looked at what the students were doing. He didn't think they had the right attitude, either...so he went to Woolworths and bought a whole load of plastic bath ducks to give out as prizes. Debacle! All the students (very self important, very serious) were mortally offended. Jeannie is sure that he looked to see who was laughing...and cultivated them.

She also once caught him cutting his privet hedge with a katana: whoosh! whoosh! He lived in Surbiton or somewhere like that. He turned to her with a beaming smile and said 'Now, I am PROPER ENGLISH GENTLEMAN!'

She was very impressed, as a young woman, with his meditation discplines. When she went over to type his letters, she could always hear chanting coming from his room, for an hour or two. Then, one day, there was a crisis and she hastened in, to find the sensei peacefully asleep with a record playing. Again, the beaming smile. 'You have FOUND ME OUT!' he said. He wasn't remotely embarrassed.

Myself, I have never done very much in the way of martial arts. I was taught tai ch'i as a martial discipline, but I was a dilettante with it. A friend of mine, who is blind, teaches Wing Tsun. He's dumped me on my backside on a number of occasions.

I relate, by the way, to that inner violence Tricia mentions. Women aren't 'supposed' to have it. Screw supposed, in that case. I have been in physical fights and on one occasion, got badly hurt. I do try and exercise some restraint these days...even when my instinct is just to thump someone. I'm sure we're all grateful, especially at conventions!

One of those days

I am actually having quite a productive day: revisions underway, wood gathered, house cleaned, laundry getting done and even some gardening and re-decorating. However, I just had to call a customer. 'I'm having one of those days,' she said. 'The parrot beat up the cat again and now the cat won't come out of the cupboard.'

Apple angst

Way back in the day, when I was young and stupid (and being brought up in cider country), I thought how lovely it would be to own an orchard.

Now I do, and it is lovely - when it's not backbreakingly hard work. We have 20 bags of apples in our driveway. They've been there since Hallowe'en. Stepping into the drive is like undertaking a hard night's drinking in a Soho bar. It certainly smells like it.

This is because T has been ill, the car with a towbar died a death, the Jeep turns out not to *have* a towbar, and the farmer at the nearest cider farm, who usually comes and collects the apples, didn't. A long war of answering messages later, still no collection.

However, I just spoke to his wife and she says they've been inundated, but he probably does still want them. Hooray! Because what do you do with 20 bags of rotting apples? We have 3 compost bins and 2 horses (who have gone off apples) but it's still not enough.