Not alone at East Midlands Pagan Federation Conference

Kit and a member of the online Stonewylde Community

Kit with Darren - an organiser of the conference

Two of the Stonewylde Promo Pixies in action!

Darren is an avid Stonewylde fan, and as one of the organisers of the East Midlands Pagan Federation annual conference, he'd invited me last summer to take part in the event to be held this March. I'd gladly accepted, not realising the date would clash with Mr B's daughter's birthday. So this was to be one of those rare occasions when I had to go it alone, for Mr B couldn't let his children down for the birthday lunch, and I couldn't let Darren and his friends down either.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a feeble woman who can't go anywhere without her husband! In fact anyone who knew me before I met the man of my dreams back in 2005 will laugh at the very idea. I was the most independent, single-minded woman alive who laughed at romantic couples, mocked people who referred to their "other half" and had no intention whatsoever of succumbing to what old Frank Sinatra referred to as "the tender trap". That was before I fell in love. Since then, Mr B and I spend every available moment together (given that he works very hard and very long hours during the week) and we've had some wonderful times travelling all over the country and abroad on Stonewylde events.

Mr B was, initially, a little out of place at some of these events. The world of book signings, gatherings, MBS fairs etc was not one familiar to him. But gradually he's mellowed from the IT business man that he is into the top-hatted Stonewylder whom many of you have now met at various Stonewylde events. And just wait till you see his costume for the forthcoming Elf Fantasy Fair in the Netherlands next month! But anyway, I've become accustomed to having him drive me all over the country, unload all the paraphernalia and set up the Stonewylde table, and look after my every need when we're "on the road". He's brilliant - the best, most supportive partner imaginable and I'm spoilt rotten. Hence my apprehension last weekend when I had to get to Lincoln all on my own and do the whole thing without him.

I spent the night before the conference with my dear friend Wild Roses (she of the amazing jewellery talent - see my necklace above - who's going to make our Stonewylde pendants) who lives about 40 miles away from the venue. I got lost twice driving to her, having left three hours late due to my fussing around trying to pack everything. And even then forgot the camera - the photos above are thanks to Darren and one of the Stonewylders who sent them to me so I could post this blog! Wild Roses and I had a lovely evening indulging in the pink champers for which she is so famous, despite Mr B's warnings to both her and me to be sensible. We were.

The next day I had to leave at the crack of dawn to get to Lincoln in good time to unload all the stuff, set up the Stonewylde stall and get changed into my appropriate garb. I'm not a morning person. Normally Mr B would have organised me and bundled me into the car still mostly asleep, giving me time to wake up slowly during the journey, stopped for coffee somewhere to further the revival process, and then dealt with everything on arrival so all I had to do was find a loo and put on a bit more lipstick.

Aarrgghh! I found Lincoln easily enough, amazed by the sight of the massive cathedral perched on the hill. And then promptly got lost. I can't work our sat nav. I know that sounds feeble, but it's temperamental and confusing, and actually wouldn't have been a huge amount of use as the area around the venue was all diversions and blocked roads. So having arrived in the city in incredibly good time, I then spent the next hour driving round and round, completely lost and becoming more stressed out and desperate by the minute. And then, when I did find the place at last, I was told there was no parking left.

"But I'm Kit Berry!" I wailed like some awful wannabe celeb. "I'm talking here. I have books to unload!". I even threatened, in the most dreadful hissy-fit imaginable, to just go home. But a kind organiser found me a parking space and helped me unload. I was shaking. The event was due to open in ten minutes' time, and I wasn't even changed! Let alone unpacked. "Oh Mr B - where are you when I need you?" I moaned (inwardly).

Then I saw a tiny wren on a branch right in front of me. It was beautiful, and very close up. I calmed myself down and got everything inside and set up the Stonewylde table with piles of books, my labyrinth and hare who accompany me now on every jaunt, and my banner. I dashed to the loo, transformed into my author persona complete with long lacy dress and foliate head-dress, and phew, was miraculously all ready for the conference. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, gulped down some coffee and breezily texted Mr B that I was all set up and ready to go and I hoped he'd have a lovely day with his birthday girl and other children.

It was a great day. And I wasn't alone, as you can see in the photos above. My magical Promo Pixies turned up - three of them! They looked after my table when I needed the loo and did my talk, and generally hung around and supported me. I saw the gorgeous Damh the Bard again and was rewarded with another of his massive bear hugs, which was particularly exciting as I'd been listening to his latest album "Tales from the Crow Man" all the way up in the car. It's brilliant, by the way, and I'd thoroughly recommend it. I had a long chat with Colin and Karen Cater of Hedingham Fair, who produce stunning cards, ceramics, T-shirts and books, and who are Stonewylde fans themselves. I met lots of really interesting people including Tony Bates who photographs hares and other wildlife so beautifully, and generally had a fantastic time.

I really enjoyed giving my talk, unhampered this time by a great stage, lights and microphone as at the previous event. The audience were so responsive, and dear Darren was right in the front row looking all excited every time I read bits out of the books. It turned out that there were absolutely loads of people at the conference who'd read Stonewylde, and many of them had brought their well-thumbed copies of the trilogy along for me to sign, which was a pleasure.

My only regret of the day was that I couldn't stay for the evening and listen to Damh the Bard play. But I had a long drive back down to Reading, without my usual chauffeur of course, and was very tired. And the pink champers of the previous night was somewhat taking its toll. So I packed everything up, assisted by my pixies, and set off into the darkening evening.

I only got lost (properly) once on the way home. I was very very glad when I finally rolled up outside our house. I proved that I could do it alone (well, almost alone if you don't count the three pixies) but it's not something I really want to prove again. I'm a very lucky woman to have Mr B to look after me, and last Saturday brought that home. Thanks to those who did help, and to Darren for inviting me. And I hope one day to visit Lincoln again under less stressful circumstances as it looks like a beautiful city. Complete with wrens.

Isle of Wight - a tantalising taste

The incredible colours of the rock at Alum Bay

Kit at the Longstone at Mottistone Down

Cycling along the Tennyson Trail towards the Needles

Last weekend Mr B and I had three days off and spent his birthday on the Isle of Wight. Neither of us have visited the island since about the age of eight, and had no idea really what to expect. Last year Mr B was given a mountain bike by his family for his big birthday (and so I had to have one too of course!) and it seemed fitting, now he's two stone lighter and in such better shape, to spend this birthday on a cycling weekend. I'd read that the Isle of Wight is one of the best places for cycling, so off we went, feeling almost as if we were going abroad as we sailed across.

Truth be told we only spent one of the three days on our bikes! That was quite enough, for we hadn't chosen one of the many flat and easy trails that form a web across the island for our debut bike ride of 2010. Oh no - we went on a very challenging route along the Tennyson Trail, which follows an ancient track along a ridgeway, like the spine of the island. Mr B was very good, but I must admit I ended up pushing my bike on most of the very steep uphill bits, and then chickening out and creeping slowly down the sharp descents, my brake blocks biting hard. Not so Mr B - hardy creature that he is. Bombing up hills, whizzing down them again! Although he could hardly move that night and certainly needed his massage at the spa hotel where we stayed! I think he slept for about ten hours that night.

We had a brilliant, magical time. The weather was glorious, as you may see from the photos, and we actually got sunburnt! I hadn't thought to pack suncreme but should have done. The Tennyson Trail was wonderful, and felt exactly like some of my very favourite parts of Dorset. The land rose and fell like the curves of the reclining Goddess in the Landscape. Our ancestors had marked the land with a series of tumuli, and apparently ancient burial urns have been excavated from some of these. We both felt very in harmony with the ancestors whilst up on the ridgeway, empathising with their choice of location. Who could not feel uplifted when standing on the spine of the island, the salt wind in your hair and the sun warming your face, gazing at the white cliffs and turquoise seas?

The next day we walked to the Longstone at Mottistone, and it was good to enjoy this alone without hordes of other people disturbing our appreciation. I expect it's a different matter in the summer. The monolith is enormous and the area around it unsullied, despite the fact that local pagans apparently use it for ritual. After the previous weekend's visit to the carved labyrinths at Rocky Valley near Tintagel (see my last blog) and our distaste for the awful mess left all over the sacred site, it was good to see that here, people had left no trace of themselves behind. Not even one empty tealight! We spent some time at this standing stone, simply enjoying the peace and energy of the place.

Mr B was especially keen to visit Alum Bay, where he'd been as a little boy with his family, apparently collecting the different coloured sands in a glass tube. Again the place was deserted, and beautiful. I won't launch into a diatribe about the hideousness of the chair-lift machinery, the red and yellow notices with a list of about ten No's on them (as in No Taking Sand, No Climbing Rocks, No ...) No, I'm becoming a grumpy old woman in my old age I think! If you ignored the rusty gantry, jarring signs and twisted metal, all the nasty additions made by unthinking humans, Alum Bay was stunning. We had a weird thought about Mr B there as a little boy, running about and not noticing the shadowy older couple in warm winter clothes, incongruous on a sunny summer's day. This had shades of the Time Traveller's Wife for me and made me shiver. Imagine if you could see yourself in the future at a certain place, but of course never realised the older person was you?

We had the most wonderful birthday weekend on the Isle of Wight. We bought guide books, cycle trail maps, walking routes - all in anticipation of return visits. I can't wait to go back and explore this magical place further.

Magical Cornwall - the Pagan Federation Conference

Kit with Damh the Bard (and his big guitar)

Kit with two Stonewylde fans

Kit and the Stonewylde Wheel of the Year

I'm so sorry about the delay in posting a blog - I felt horribly guilty when I saw the date of the last one! Where is this year going? Thanks to a nag from one of my most ardent supporters, Cornmother, I've finally come to write this. It's been a bit of a hectic few days actually, and today I was interviewed by a lovely reporter from the magazine Spirit & Destiny. She came to have lunch with me in Reading, and I told her all about my experiences with Stonewylde. She loves the books and is doing a feature on three women who've had strange spiritual experiences which changed their lives and set them on a completely different path. This feature will be in the July issue, which comes out at the beginning of June. I'll remind you nearer the time!

Well, latest Stonewylde travels were to Bude in Cornwall. I'd been invited to speak at the Pagan Federation Conference down there - the branch being Cornwall, Devon, Channel Islands and Scilly Isles. This has the reputation for being one of the very best organised PF conferences (I'm sure they all are actually!) and Levannah booked me to speak there way back last summer I think. Mr B and I were accommodated for the whole weekend in a wonderful apartment in the old manor house at the hotel holiday village - Penstowe Manor Hotel. We were looked after from the moment we arrived on Friday. It really was the most fantastic weekend.

We swam in the lovely indoor pool on the Friday afternoon. Me, without glasses, doing my swan-swimming (any woman of my age knows exactly what I'm talking about) when a voice calls, "Kit! Kit! Hello - it's Angie!" I couldn't even see the person, let alone recognise her. But of course, once she'd told me her "forum" name I knew immediately who she was! It was such fun to be there and everyone was so friendly. Damh the Bard and his lovely Ceri arrived and we had a wonderful evening listening to his music in the bar. He really is a very talented man.

Saturday was busy from the start. The big hall (called The Cabaret Suite) was packed with stalls of a very high standard. So tempting! I came home with all sorts of wonderful goodies. The word "Cabaret" was lit in pink neon lights, and every time I looked at the stage and then at Mr B's top hat, I had an overwhelming urge to don my fishnets and false eyelashes and do a Sally Bowles impersonation, only having seen the film again recently on late night TV. "Wilkommen, bienvenu, welcome!". Oh, one day ....

There were four speakers booked for the day, and I was on third. What some call the graveyard slot - straight after lunch when everyone's supposedly sleepy and lethargic. But it was fine, although the lights were dazzling, the hand-held mike heavy, and the audience large. I must admit, speaking to an audience of over 200 people for an hour was quite a daunting prospect as I'm generally used to speaking to groups of no more than fifty people. It's a strange thing, public speaking. In my younger days it was one of my most feared things of all - on a par with facing a wild rabid dog or having a tooth filled without an injection first. But over the past couple of years I've become used to talking to a large room of people. However, standing on a stage unable to really see people because of the lights, hearing your voice booming out through a loud speaker - this was quite scary, and I wasn't as natural or spontaneous as I normally try to be.

But I think generally people enjoyed my talk. However the talk which followed mine, and finished the day's events, was wonderful. Cassandra Latham introduced Penglaz, and I'm sure I wasn't alone in finding my skin crawling and my scalp tingling. I'll explain more about Penglaz in another blog (and it won't be long in coming, I promise!) as it's a wonderful thing that deserves a proper mention.

Later, Mr B and I had dinner with Damh and Ceri, which was fun. The evening was rounded off with a brilliant performance by The Dolmen, the folk band from Dorset. It was so good to see them again and have a chat with some of the band members (who are Stonewylde fans too!). It's a small world really and meeting up with so many readers over the weekend, from all parts of the country, brought this home. The highlight of the evening had to be when Damh joined The Dolmen on stage for a very rousing rendition of Raggle Taggle Gypsies-O.

I went to sleep again with the Cornish moon shining on my eyelids and waking me in the middle of the night. Magical!