Little Flair

“Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.”

Laini Taylor
Lips Touch: Three Times


Lots of Magic…

May 10, 2015


“Of course there must be lots of Magic in the world,” he said wisely one day, “but people don’t know what it is like or how to make it. Perhaps the beginning is just to say nice things are going to happen until you make them happen. I am going to try and experiment.”

Frances Hodgson Burnett
The Secret Garden

Help for Bees….

May 10, 2015


Reading today….

May 10, 2015


Keeping count….

May 10, 2015



Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There’s magic in that. It’s in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that… there are many kinds of magic, after all.”

Erin Morgenstern
The Night Circus


UNREQUITED love is the love human beings experience most of the time. The very need to be fully requited may be to turn from the possibilities of love itself. Men and women have always had difficulty with the way a love returned hardly ever resembles a love given, but unrequited love may be the form that love mostly takes; for what affection is ever returned over time in the same measure or quality with which it is given? … And whom could we know so well and so intimately through all the twists and turns of a given life that we could show them exactly, the continuous and appropriate form of affection they need?
The great discipline seems to be to give up wanting to control the manner in which we are requited, and to forgo the natural disappointment that flows from expecting an exact and measured reciprocation.

David Whyte
Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words


Four in the Morning. Still dark outside, of course. The owls calling as they hunt. A beautiful, haunting sound…

Here, in my study, only my fingers on the keyboard to disturb the silence – a silence that fills the house, packs it like cotton wool.

Later there will be the sound of bells from the small church:

“ The bells of memory sound this summer day
Down the long alleys of the blue-skied years;
Shy cowslip, thyme, the haunting scent of hay…”

Foul taste in my mouth. I abandon the study with its promise of stillborn, shrouded words. In the kitchen make more coffee, rich and black. In the window I see the sky lightning; could madness ride this particular morning sky? On the wings of an owl…

Can I smash the cage and let weary words fly free?

Gabriella and Dee are curled in bed together, snug, secure – like a pair of foxes in their hillside den, safe for now from the hounds –

“The wood is full of shining eyes,
The wood is full of creeping feet,
The wood is full of tiny cries:
You must not go to the wood at night!”

No, for fear we become feckin’ owl food. Or the fox bites you on the bum.

I return to my study, my prison cell. I can almost hear the rustle of the duvet as the girls snuggle still deeper beneath it as I pass. They are both quietly pushing up the zeds in the snug tranquility of the big bedroom. Neither of them is up to much in the morning. They aren’t morning people. It’s all they can do to mumble one or two coherent words to each other…

Later, much later (it’s always after ten on a Sunday) when I bring them tea and coffee, they’ll mumble “Thanks” or “Too early!” or “Go away!” depending on how they feel.

Eventually they’ll sleepwalk to the shower…probably. If you’re lucky they will. If you’re not lucky, they’ll go back to sleep.

Welcome to my world.

The author William Feather once said: “Early morning cheerfulness can be extremely obnoxious”. I think the girls must have read that and taken it to heart. It now forms their entire philosophy for morning-time behaviour.

I tell Dee, ‘Lose an hour in the morning, you’ll spend the whole day looking for it.”

She replies, ‘Bollocks will I!’

Back at my desk I frown at the bright empty screen before me. Feck it. Perhaps I should try meditation or some light yoga? On the other hand I could WAP a shot of brandy into this coffee. That’d make a difference…

“She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.”

I’d love to love with Dee right now. Feel the curve of her back, her hips rising to meet my thrust – “Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard…” Naked our needs lock. I can’t remember ever having felt anything or anyone so soft before, not before, not ever…

For a second I’m light headed with so much desire. I have turned transparent, as if from a whiff of helium, slight as an exhalation of her sleeping breath. And I could easily suck the world’s ashes from her fingertips…

But this won’t do; won’t do at all. I must get on. Must.