Another scene of interest from a Dion Fortune occult novel

As mentioned in the article inspired by The Demon Lover, there are scenes in Dion Fortune's occult novels that have particular relevance to some of the topics on here. 

This post features another of these scenes, this time from Moon Magic (1956). It presents the idea that people with certain metaphysical powers and the right training and intention can use occult methods to draw others to them for mutual benefit.

Lilith Le Fay calls out for a colleague
Moon Magic contains much occult-related material that people who live entirely in the three-dimensional universe would dismiss as ridiculous rubbish, purple prose, or, as Richard Hannay describes a speech he makes in John Buchan's Greenmantle, confounded nonsense!

I skip through many of the occult scenes myself, but find this novel worth reading for the commentary-inspiring material that it contains.  

Lilith Le Fay is one of the main characters. She is a priestess of Isis and a practitioner of ceremonial magic. 

She needs to find someone to work with her when she performs the rituals. She advertises the job vacancy in a very unusual way:

“There was nothing for me to do but watch and wait. I could not go and find the people I wanted; I had to wait for them to find me. This I knew they would do because I was sounding the call of Isis, vibrating it on the Inner Planes as a wireless operator sounds his key-call. Those who were on my wave-length would soon be picking it up, and then curious combinations of circumstances would do the rest. They would come from the ends of the earth like homing pigeons, picking up the call subconsciously and not knowing what it was that drew them.“

The procedure may seem preposterous and the practitioner delusional, but it works! Lilith Le Fay attracts the right man for the job by broadcasting on the right wavelength: she puts out the call, and a man who has the qualities that she requires eventually appears in her life.

The shadow side of the Moon Magic scene
Most people will immediately dismiss the suggestion that some people can communicate via other dimensions as very unlikely indeed - or even crazy. However, when people who are interested in unseen influences and have had certain unusual experiences are first introduced to this idea, they find that it makes sense and could explain a lot. 

Further consideration by such people may cause them to realise that, assuming it is correct, this proposition has some alarming implications; they may rightly suspect that the forces involved do not always work for the benefit of the people using or affected by them. 

In particular, there is a negative or shadow side to the calling phenomenon. 

Two temptation scenes in Jonathan Stroud’s Lockwood books

This article has something to say about what might be called the temptation of Lucy Carlyle, a major character in Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood & Co. books, by a whited sepulchre of a woman who goes by the name of Penelope Fittes.

The two featured temptation scenes are of particular interest because there are similar scenes in other books that I like, many of which have previously been featured or mentioned on here.

Penelope Fittes is head of the Fittes Agency, the oldest and biggest psychical detection agency; she is one of the most powerful and influential people in the country.

She is a very glamorous and elegant businesswoman. At first she appears to be a good person and well disposed towards Anthony Lockwood and his colleagues, but she is not what she seems. She is gradually revealed to be a ruthless exploiter and destroyer of people, living and dead. She has many dark secrets; she has much blood on her hands.

The first temptation of Lucy Carlyle
In The Whispering Skull, the second book in the series, a member of the Fittes Agency flatters Lucy Carlyle and tries to lure her away from Lockwood & Co.: 

“Ms. Carlyle, you’re clearly the most intelligent of your team. And you’ve some Talent, too, if everything I’ve heard is true. Surely you don’t want to hang around with these losers any longer. You’ve got a career to think of. I know you had an interview with Fittes a while ago; I know they failed you, but in my opinion”— he smiled again— “they made a bad mistake. Now, I have a little influence within the organization. I can pull strings, get you a position within the company, just think: instead of eking out a living here, you could be at Fittes House, with all its power at your disposal.”

This makes Lucy very angry. She likes her life as an employee of the Lockwood Agency and she likes her colleagues Anthony Lockwood and George Cubbins, who are in any case very far from being losers. She tells her tempter that she is quite happy where she is.

This offer may seem relatively harmless if rather patronising: the Fittes man recognises talent when he sees it and just wants to recruit a good person for his team. However, it is Penelope Fittes who is behind this and further attempts to recruit Lucy: she wants to make use of her gifts, and whatever she wants she is determined to get.

Cults and the inversion of values

This article contains two examples of people who neglected or abandoned personal responsibilities in favour of working for the cause. Both cases involve the same, Catholicism-based, cult. 

The material is based on posts on the old Conservative Conspiracy Forum; it consists of extracts that I found online and comments that I made at the time together with a few afterthoughts.

Abandoning the sick and dying
“...I slowly realized that behavior opposite to my natural self was the most rewarded....When I as a devoted physician would leave my duties for a weekend, to cook for 80 people on a weekend meeting, that seemed to be the ultimate proof of my trust in the voice of Jesus in our midst. 

When I left a dear person who was dying and I had promised to assist, to help out practically in the movement and that person died when I was absent, that was the proof of my love for the forsaken Jesus.”

This is very horrific indeed, all the more as Christians are enjoined to heal the sick and comfort the dying.  Where are the Christian values of love and compassion here? 

The worst aspect is that not only are members encouraged or ordered to perform such actions, they are commended for it. They are told that it shows how superior and committed they are; it really shows how far under the evil influences they are. 

Neglecting children 
“We missed our son's confirmation, left a teenager for 3 weeks alone while we went to school in Rome because we were told it was the will of God. We missed so many family events and were told that 'we had to leave the family in order to follow God. We would find them again in Heaven.'”

This is typical of many cults. It confirms what I have seen and experienced for myself: “We must make sacrifices.”

More about Walter de la Mare's Return

The first article about Walter de la Mare's horror novel The Return ended at the point where Arthur Lawford, whose appearance has changed because he is possessed by the ghost of a dead Frenchman, has convinced both his wife Sheila and the vicar Mr Bethany that he is not an imposter.

They now have to decide how to deal with 'this awful business'.

They call in a doctor; he is not much use, which is not surprising as Lawford gives him only a modified version of what happened in the cemetery. 

They want to avoid comment or scandal so invent some cover stories for their friends and the servants: they tell people that Arthur Lawford is staying in his room and not seeing anyone because he is very tired and ill, and that the 'stranger' who has been seen in the house is a new doctor. 

From this point on, the story itself did not hold much of my attention. I couldn't find much to inspire commentary as I skimmed quickly through the details of the web of deception and Arthur Lawford's impersonation of the new doctor, the descriptions of Arthur's inner state, his disagreements with his wife and his excursions, not to mention the long philosophical discussions about life. I did however find a few more connections and a little incidental material of interest.

Another reminder of Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood 
Arthur Lawford makes a new friend, someone with the strange name of Herbert Herbert. This man believes Arthur's story about being possessed by the Frenchman when he fell asleep in the churchyard, and theorises that Nicholas Sabathier's restless ghost had been lingering on by his grave waiting for someone to ambush because he still has some living to do. 

Then, Herbert says, a godsend in the form of Arthur Lawford comes along. Arthur has been suffering from a dispiriting illness, he is half asleep, tired out and depressed; his weak inner state makes him a suitable vehicle for possession. This is spot on, and similar to what George Cubbins says to Lucy and Lockwood about ghosts homing in on vulnerable people in the previously mentioned article about Jonathan Stroud's Empty Grave.

Some writers with Celtic connections

The starting point for this article was a line in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella The Parasite, which has been the subject of many articles.

Austin Gilroy thinks that the witch Helen Penclosa got her hooks deep into him because of his Celtic origin and that his colleague Charles Sadler got off lightly because of his phlegmatic Saxon temperament.

This made me wonder if people of Celtic origin really are more open to unseen influences than those of other ancestries. I have Irish connections on one side and Scottish on the other, so this topic is of great interest to me.

I remembered that some of the writers featured or mentioned in this blog had Cornish, Irish, Scottish or Welsh connections; I decided to do a quick investigation and list any more people on here who are known or appear to be of Celtic descent on one or both sides.

People of interest with Celtic connections
Conan Doyle may have been born in Edinburgh, but he had Irish Catholic parents.

Joan Aiken’s Canadian-born mother was a MacDonald, which suggests Scottish ancestors.

J. M. Barrie was a Scotsman.

Enid Blyton had an Irish grandmother on her father’s side.

Angela Brazil had a Scottish grandfather on her mother’s side.

The Brontës had an Irish father and a Cornish mother.

John Buchan was a Scotsman.

Taylor Caldwell was of Scottish origin on both sides. She was descended from the MacGregor clan on her mother’s side.

James Cameron has remote Scottish connections.

Andrew Carnegie, whose public libraries have inspired many writers, was a Scotsman.

The family of Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) had some Irish connections.

Eoin Colfer is Irish.

Marie Corelli’s real father was almost certainly the Scottish poet Charles Mackay.

John Buchan, L. M. Montgomery and some snakes

I neither love and revere snakes nor hate and fear them. I once horrified a friend by trying to stroke a big snake in a small zoo. I couldn’t understand why she reacted the way she did! 

Snakes certainly bring out strong emotions in people, and in fiction they represent evil more often than good.

The discovery that both Stella Benson and Antonia White were lovers of snakes made me wonder whether any more writers of interest shared their views. Did anyone other than Stella Benson believe that they had the soul of a snake?

I looked for obvious personal opinions as opposed to standard Biblical references where they are classic symbols of evil.

I couldn’t find any more positive references to snakes by the people featured on here apart from Gerald Durrell, who doesn’t really count because he was a conservationist and zookeeper who loved all wildlife.

I found that neither John Buchan nor L. M. Montgomery had a good word to say about snakes. Buchan used them to describe some of his villains and L. M. Montgomery obviously loathed and feared them.

A few snake references from John Buchan
This is from The Thirty-Nine Steps:

“...the real boss... with an eye like a rattlesnake.”

“Then he looked steadily at me, and that was the hardest ordeal of all. There was something weird and devilish in those eyes, cold, malignant, unearthly, and most hellishly clever. They fascinated me like the bright eyes of a snake. “

This is from The Power House:

“It was with profound relief that I found myself in Piccadilly in the wholesome company of my kind. I had carried myself boldly enough in the last hour, but I would not have gone through it again for a king's ransom. Do you know what it is to deal with a pure intelligence, a brain stripped of every shred of humanity? It is like being in the company of a snake.”

This is from Mr Standfast:

“Blenkiron got out of his chair and stood above me. 'I tell you, Dick, that man makes my spine cold. He hasn’t a drop of good red blood in him. The dirtiest apache is a Christian gentleman compared to Moxon Ivery. He’s as cruel as a snake and as deep as hell.'”

96 years of John Buchan’s Three Hostages

The Three Hostages is the fourth in the series of John Buchan’s Richard Hannay adventures. 

It was first published in two instalments in the (London) Graphic Magazine in April and May 1924 then as a book in June 1924, so this month is the 96th anniversary of its first appearance.

The Three Hostages has already been the subject of one article, and there are references to the evil Dominick Medina and his powers of hypnotism in a few others.

So what more is there to say about this story?

There are two minor scenes that inspire commentary; one is rather painful to read and one is amusing.  The first is where Richard Hannay is very reluctantly recalled to action and the other is where he reveals to the enemy that he has been playing a part all along.

A point of particular interest is that Dominick Medina behaves like a cult leader.

Back to the battlefield
People who have had similar experiences will understand how Richard Hannay feels when he is asked to leave his beloved home, family and farm to take part in an investigation.

He receives a letter that destroys his peace of mind. It is as if his Eden has been invaded by a snake:

“I…felt very angry. Why couldn't the fools let me alone? As I went upstairs I vowed that not all the cajolery in the world would make me budge an inch from the path I had set myself. I had done enough for the public service and other people's interests, and it was jolly well time that I should be allowed to attend to my own.”

Diana Wynne Jones and the shortage of reading material

Diana Wynne Jones is yet another writer who was a voracious reader as a child. Unfortunately, she never had nearly enough books to satisfy her appetite for reading material. As she put it, she suffered from a perpetual book famine.

Her book Reflections: On the Magic of Writing contains some interesting - although very painful to read - autobiographical material; it was the source of an amusing anecdote, and it also provides some information about the vital part that books and reading played in her early life.

A few extracts will show what she was up against when trying to obtain more books to read. 

A starvation diet of books
Diana Wynne Jones’s father was stingy and tight-fisted in the extreme: 

“...birthdays were the one occasion when my father could be persuaded to buy books. By begging very hard, I got Puck of Pook’s Hill when I was ten and Greenmantle when I was twelve. But my father was inordinately mean about money. He solved the Christmas book-giving by buying an entire set of Arthur Ransome books, which he kept locked in a high cupboard and dispensed one between the three of us each year.”

So she too liked Rudyard Kipling and John Buchan! 

I would have felt very short-changed indeed if all I was given for Christmas was one Arthur Ransome book - and he is not one of my favourite authors anyway!

Violet Needham, Pandora, and Mr Papadopoulis

Violet Needham wrote some high-quality books for children. They were published between the years 1939 and 1957. 

Apart from a brief mention in the article about Anthony Hope, whose fictional country Ruritania may well have inspired her fictional Empire and surrounding countries, Violet Needham has not previously been featured on here.

Some of her books, the Stormy Petrel stories in particular, are full of exciting and romantic adventures in glamorous settings and some even have supernatural elements, but most of them are not relevant to this blog. 

While working on articles about John Buchan's books, I was reminded of some characters and scenes from one of Violet Needham’s books. I decided to take another look at Pandora of Parrham Royal (1951), which I last read many years ago. 

I bought a copy online and renewed my acquaintance with the material that I vaguely remembered. In the light of what I have since learned about unseen influences, parts of the book seem much more significant now than they did when I first read it. 

Pandora of Parrham Royal may not be one of Violet Needham’s best books when it comes to the characters and storyline - I much prefer the Stormy Petrel series - but it has inspired an article because it has some elements in common with John Buchan's books and it provides yet another example of someone who uses occult powers to get what they want.

Much of the plot and most of the characters in Pandora of Parrham Royal are not relevant to this article. 

The main character of interest is called Themistocles Papadopoulis. 

He has attributes in common with some really horrible black magicians who have been featured on here, although, unlike Stella Gibbons’s occultist Esmé Scarron and Robin Jarvis’s appalling warlock Nathaniel Crozier, he is not really evil nor is he involved with black magic as such.

About Mr Papadopoulis
Mr Papadopoulis has a touch of the typical Luciferian hero/villain about him. He is a man of mystery. He has dark hair and melancholy black eyes that sometimes smoulder with passion; he sometimes gives an impression of great power and arrogance; he is magnetic and charming; he smiles ironically and has a compelling gaze; he also hypnotises people. He makes people like him whether they want to or not.

100 years of John Buchan’s Mr Standfast

This day, August 26th, is John Buchan’s birthday. This article marks the 144th anniversary of his birth.

This year, 2019, is the 100th anniversary of the first publication of John Buchan’s spy thriller Mr Standfast.  

Mr Standfast is the third book in the series of five Richard Hannay adventures; it follows Greenmantle and precedes The Three Hostages.

I think of Greenmantle and The Three Hostages as being the best of the Richard Hannay books; I find Mr Standfast and The Island of Sheep the least enjoyable to read; I put The Thirty-Nine Steps in the middle of the two groups.

The main problem with Mr Standfast is the effect that it doesn’t have. I find it less enthralling than other books in the series. To me, Mr Standfast is more of the same; it is The Thirty-Nine Steps with World War I scenes added.

Although most of the small amount of inspirational material that Mr Standfast contains has already appeared in two previous articles, there is still a little more to say about the book. I want to highlight a few quotations and scenes that I particularly like.

More words about writing from L. M. Montgomery

This article contains a few more hard-hitting quotations on the subject of writers and writing from L. M. Montgomery.

She seems ambivalent about the whole business of being a writer, seeing it as both a gift and a curse:

“You'll never write anything that really satisfies you though it may satisfy other people.”

From Emily Climbs

This may be true in some cases - artists often feel that their works fall far short of their visions - but the converse also applies: some writers may be proud of their productions while their readers may not think much of them.

Disapproval, criticism and discouragement

People who read a lot are often criticised for it, and people who try to write are often discouraged. L. M. Montgomery obviously experienced much disapproval herself:

“’I think this story-writing business is the foolishest yet,’ scoffed Marilla. ‘You’ll get a pack of nonsense into your heads and waste time that should be put on your lessons. 

Reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse.’”

From Anne of Green Gables

Although this disapproving attitude does a lot of damage, that last line seems quite funny to me.

103 years of John Buchan’s Greenmantle

Last year was the 103rd anniversary of the publication of John Buchan’s Thirty-Nine Steps; 2019 is the 103rd anniversary of the first appearance of the sequel, the classic spy thriller Greenmantle.

This book was written partly as propaganda and in the hope that it would help to bring America into the First World War.

The first instalment of this exciting adventure story with a wonderful title and a ‘man with a mission on the run in enemy territory’ scenario appeared in the magazine Land and Water in July 1916, and the entire story was published in book form later that year.

Greenmantle was a great success. It is still very popular, all the more because of current events in the Middle East. However, a radio dramatisation was dropped from the BBC’s schedule in 2005 for containing ‘unsuitable and sensitive material’.

Greenmantle is my favourite John Buchan book. It is an old friend. I have already mentioned it briefly in an article about Robert. A. Heinlein’s Citizen of the Galaxy, and I covered the spying aspect in articles about energy vampires and John Buchan's fellow author of exciting adventure stories, Rafael Sabatini.

The best of Greenmantle

It is difficult to think of anything more or something new and original to say about this enthralling story with its excitement, adventure, danger and double dealing.

Greenmantle has much to offer its readers. It has educational background information; it has moving scenes and amusing scenes, and there is some material that has a wider application.

Today is Rafael Sabatini’s birthday

The novelist Rafael Sabatini was born on this day, April 29th, in 1875 in Italy.

I have always thought of Rafael Sabatini as a member of a special trinity. Like the other two members John Buchan and Anthony Hope, he provided food and fuel for the imagination and a chance to escape from the mundane world. He gave a taste of romance, excitement and adventure, often in glamorous and historic settings, to people who had little chance of getting anything like it in real life.

John Buchan was also born in 1875, and by coincidence there are significant occasions in February for all three men: Anthony Hope was born on February 9th; John Buchan died on February 11th and Rafael Sabatini died on February 13th.

I put Rafael Sabatini above Anthony Hope and below John Buchan when it comes to both my enjoyment of their books and finding them a good source of material for articles about unseen influences.

Previous references

Although his books do not inspire commentary the way John Buchan’s do, Rafael Sabatini has been mentioned in a few articles. His wise words about equality have been quoted; the tragic deaths of his son and step-son and his obvious favouring of heroes with black hair over their rivals with blond hair have also been discussed.

To mark the occasion, I want to say a little more about Sabatini and his books.

Today is Anthony Hope’s birthday

The novelist and playwright who wrote under the name Anthony Hope was born on this day, February 9th, in 1863.

Anthony Hope is the main founder of the Ruritanian romance genre; his best-known book is The Prisoner of Zenda (1894).

Taking a short break from Stella Benson and Living Alone to refresh my memory and produce something to mark the occasion has been a great relief. Unlike the Stella Benson material, The Prisoner of Zenda and its sequel Rupert of Hentzau have no disturbing associations; they don’t stir up painful and depressing memories or give rise to horrible ideas.

On the other hand, the Zenda stories don’t contain the sort of material that generates investigations and commentary; they have no witches or magic in them, although they are fantasy of a kind.

The basic biographical information available, most of which can be found in Anthony Hope’s Wiki entry, is not very relevant either.

Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins was an English gentleman. He and his swashbuckling adventure stories have some similarities with John Buchan and his works. Both men had brief legal careers before they started writing for example.

103 years of John Buchan’s 39 Steps

Today is the 103rd anniversary of the first appearance of John Buchan’s classic spy thriller The Thirty-Nine Steps.

This exciting adventure story was first published in book form in October 1915, soon after it had run as a serial in Blackwood’s Magazine under the pseudonym H. de V. during July, August and September of that year.

Surprisingly, the very first appearance of The Thirty-Nine Steps was in the American magazine All-Story Weekly. It was published in two instalments, in the June 5th and June 12th 1915 issues.

The Thirty-Nine Steps was an immediate and great success.

John Buchan went on to write more books about the adventures of Richard Hannay. Unlike some of these later stories, The Thirty-Nine Steps does not contain much material that is directly relevant to this blog; it may however have some subtle messages for us.

All the world’s a stage

Perhaps there is a message in what Richard Hannay says about playing a part and how you have to think yourself into it. You must convince yourself that you are it and stay in part all the time, always behaving as if enemies were watching.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part V

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s short novel The Parasite has inspired a whole series of articles, of which this is the last.

It is being published today to mark the 87th anniversary of Conan Doyle’s death: he died on this day, July 7th, in 1930. 

Although I had never even heard of The Parasite until a few weeks ago, many elements of the story seem very familiar. They have activated memories of things I have read in other books or experienced for myself; I have featured some of them in previous articles. Here are some more connections that I have noticed:

The Parasite and John Buchan

The Parasite reminds me a little of John Buchan’s story The Gap in the Curtain, in which people are trained to use the latent powers of their minds.

The volunteers are selected for their sensitive nervous systems and inability to cope well with the normal, physical world. This partly matches what Austin Gilroy says about himself: he calls himself a highly psychic, sensitive man.

The volunteers in The Gap in the Curtain are very different from Agatha Marden, whom Helen Penclosa successfully hypnotises as a demonstration of her power to control healthy, well-balanced people.

This makes me think of something that the eastern mystic and guru Kharáma says to the villain Dominick Medina in Buchan’s novel The Three Hostages: 

"The key is there, but to find it is not easy.  All control tends to grow weak and may be broken by an accident, except in the case of young children, and some women, and those of feeble mind."

"That I know," said Medina almost pettishly.  "But I do not want to make disciples only of babes, idiots, and women."

"Only some women, I said.  Among our women perhaps all, but among Western women, who are hard as men, only the softer and feebler."

Agatha Marden is hardly soft and feeble, but she is not hard enough to be able to resist being hypnotised. In any case, she was eager to try it out. Even so, it was quite an achievement for Helen Penclosa to be able to control someone that even the great Kharáma might have had trouble with!

There is a gap of 30 years and an intervening World War between the publication dates of The Parasite and The Three Hostages. There were probably many more ‘soft women’ around in 1894 than there were in 1924!

One trope that still worked is the use of mysterious, remote and exotic locations to account for someone’s powers: Helen Penclosa is West Indian; Kharáma is Indian.

The Gap in the Curtain: John Buchan nails it once again

The Gap in the Curtain is not one of John Buchan’s best-known works. It is not a story of excitement and adventure either: no thriller, it has a supernatural or paranormal theme and has been described as borderline science fiction. 

The Gap in the Curtain features the lawyer Sir Edward Leithen, another of Buchan’s heroes and narrator of the story, and Professor August Moe, a brilliant physicist and mathematician. 

The story starts with a dinner party. Leithen, who is extremely tired from overworking and close to the end of his tether, had been in two minds about accepting the invitation. He feels a little better when he notices that several other guests around the table are not looking too good either: they seem nervous, under the weather, ill, tired or even exhausted:

“I was free to look about me. Suddenly I got a queer impression. A dividing line seemed to zigzag in and out among us, separating the vital from the devitalised. There was a steady cackle of talk, but I felt that there were silent spaces in it. Most of the people were cheerful, eupeptic souls who were enjoying life... But I realised that there were people here who were as much at odds with life as myself...”

Mr Standfast: John Buchan nails a problem

I was much more interested in the exciting action and adventures than the philosophising when I first read John Buchan’s books; now it is the more subtle elements that hold my attention. 

Something I read in Mr Standfast recently really hit home this time around: it is a soul-baring speech made by the character Launcelot Wake.

“"I see more than other people see," he went on, "and I feel more. That's the curse on me. You're a happy man and you get things done, because you only see one side of a case, one thing at a time. How would you like it if a thousand strings were always tugging at you, if you saw that every course meant the sacrifice of lovely and desirable things, or even the shattering of what you know to be unreplaceable? I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of, but I haven't the poet's gift, so I stagger about the world left-handed and game-legged... 

I'm not as good a man as you, Hannay, who have never thought out anything in your life. My time in the Labour battalion taught me something. I knew that with all my fine aspirations I wasn't as true a man as fellows whose talk was silly oaths and who didn't care a tinker's curse about their soul… I'd give all I have to be an ordinary cog in the wheel, instead of a confounded outsider who finds fault with the machinery...""

“I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of, but I haven't the poet's gift...”

This goes right to the heart of the matter; it is the essence of the problem that some people have. 

Life is very difficult for anyone who is unfortunate enough to have the creative temperament without much in the way of creative abilities to go with it. Such people may feel stuck between two worlds, getting the worst of both and not fully belonging to either. 

Unable to function as well in everyday life as the ordinary people in the outer world do, unable to create anything or demonstrate any particular talent, gift or genius as the artists of various kinds who are in touch with other dimensions and the inner world do, they may feel inferior to the inhabitants of both worlds. 

Being able to demonstrate abilities far above normal in some areas may be compensation for and explanation of being obviously far below normal in others; having creative abilities may be some compensation for having to endure the torment of a creative temperament, while being able to function well in the ordinary world may be some compensation for being collective-minded and not having any special talents.

Considering that the highlighted words quoted above were spoken by someone who says he has no gift for poetry, it is ironic that, with the addition of a line or two, they could be part of a poem, perhaps something written by Rudyard Kipling! 

The Lament of Launcelot Wake 

I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of,

  But I haven't the poet's gift.

Between me and the world of the poets,

  There lies an unbridgeable rift!

Hebden Bridge and Parliament: a strange suggestion

The Houses of Parliament are reported to be slowly turning into an uninhabitable ruin; an option under consideration is moving MPs and peers out for five years.

A news article about a possible move sees it as something positive:

“…with both MPs and peers in Parliament and the Queen in Buckingham Palace facing the possibility of decamping while renovations are made to their historic homes, is it now the time for power to shift in the UK?”

LSE Professor Tony Travers makes a bizarre suggestion:

“…perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to move power out of London. There are compelling arguments to decentralise the UK by moving Parliament...why don’t we move it to...” he trails off, reaching for Google Maps “... now, where’s sort of in-the-middle? Hebden Bridge! We could put it there.”

Hebden Bridge is just about in the middle of the British Isles, although it is not one of the official geographical centres and is considered to be far up north to people who live in the south of England. Even so, it is a very strange place to select almost at random from a map when there are other, better known places in the area, big cities such as Leeds or Manchester for example. 

Professor Travers may have been joking about moving Parliament to such a small market town, but Hebden Bridge has associations and connections that make a place of interest for several other reasons. 

There are some coincidences involving Parliament too.

Attacks by energy vampires: some details and theories

I am recovering from a recent attack by an energy vampire.

The bad effects are wearing off; I have decided to post the details in the hope that they will be useful to anyone who may have experienced something similar. 

The symptoms lasted for several days: I was continually yawning; I felt very slow and stupid; I was disinclined to do anything except lie around reading and looking for new posts on a forum or two of interest. 

I felt cursed, as if I were under an evil spell. I experienced strange and unpleasant sensations and an inner state that is difficult to convey in words. I felt very depressed; further descriptions that come to mind include feeling desolated, disconnected, doomed, exiled, hopeless, lost, mortally wounded, paralysed, sabotaged and useless. 

I had unpleasant dreams and woke up feeling terrible, sucked dry and fit for nothing.

I missed opportunities to get out in the sunshine because there is no point in just going through the motions while feeling dead inside and unable to enjoy anything. I had also learned the hard way that distress signals attract predators. 

I also had a string of minor accidents. I tripped over a cable and fell heavily, hurting my knee on top of an old injury; I intended to open the lower door on my fridge-freezer and opened the upper one by mistake, banging myself very hard on the forehead; when I did go out I nearly fell down the stairs on the bus. I stupidly walked up several flights of stairs at a station, not even thinking to take the lift or an escalator. This made my knee much worse.