Reading about Mollie Promp

Well, as one of my favourite characters once said, Curiouser and curiouser!

As Mollie predicted, I couldn’t wait to get into the basement to do a reading, and what better deck to use than my Buckland Romani? I decided on a ‘story’ spread, where I put five cards in a straight line and concentrate on the centre card as being who I’m reading about/for. I was reading about Mollie, but for myself (if that makes sense).

I sat down and shuffled my deck well and cut it as I always do. I laid out my first card, an Ace. The second was an Ace too. When the third was also an Ace, I was taken aback, and actually looked around because I was sure I felt Mollie there! I was suspicious now, so looked at my fourth card as I slid it off the deck, and sure enough it was the final Ace. By this time I had her laughter in my head too. But what card was I going to get for number five with all the aces out? Part of me didn’t want to know, so I shut my eyes until the card was in place, and opening them, I saw a devilish little demon rolling about on the floor laughing because he’d knocked the dinner cauldron over. His laughter reminded me of Mollie, and how they both amused themselves. But Mollie was no devil, she said she was my Guardian Angel!

I gazed and gazed at the spread, and all I could come up with was new beginnings in every aspect in my life. Perhaps that’s right, with everything settled now. I doubt very much if life will ever be quiet for long, too much has happened for that, but I am certainly ready for fresh new developments of the safe and happy kind!

I just have one small problem. The Devil card. I must admit he looks more impish than downright evil, but I keep remembering something Mollie said to me. “Beware of a man with the initials TD”. Beware of The Devil? I’m not so naive that I think a demon from hell will come knocking at our door, but there are many bad people in the world who mess with things they shouldn’t.

Hmmm…I’ll just have to wait and see.



Oh, my!

Well, if ever a tarot reading was called for, it’s now! I felt strangely at ease after receiving Henna’s email – I don’t know – it just seemed very normal for her, or as normal as Henna can ever be. A calm has come to rest over our cottage, with Minet enjoying herself by doing doodles of fashion designs while Jay was amusing himself with building matchstick houses.

With this ambience, I decided on a small walk in my beloved wood. I’d not gone far when I heard a voice softly singing. I didn’t know the song but creeping quietly closer, I saw lots of woodland animals listening in awe and found myself drawn into an almost hypnotic state when I nearly stumbled over an old gypsy lady sitting by a tree who stopped her melody to put out an arm to catch me.

“Ah, Aisselle, at last we meet”, said the old lady and introduced herself as Mollie Promp.

I didn’t know what to say or do so I just stared at her. It was like she knew about every fibre of my being with just a glance at me. As it happened, I think she did. She told me that she last saw me as a small girl, when Henna had visited her wondering what life had in store for me. Apparently she knew just how special I was from that moment and decided to watch me from a distance. Oh my word, she knew everything about my life!

She adored all our animals and watched over Jay when he was lost and hurt in the wood – I wonder if Jay saw her but thought he was dreaming? She’s watching Minet with interest, she tells me.

I asked her why she was watching me and where she came from but she waved her hand and said that everyone needs a guardian angel as well as a Goddess and where she lives is of no matter to me. She was barefoot and dirty so wherever she’s from, it can’t be very nice. I thought to invite her home with me but something told me my offer would be declined.

She began to look tired so I got up to leave, asking if she’d be okay getting home on her own. She laughed, showing what few teeth she had left were a deep yellow, and told me she was home. That crept me out a bit so I made to hurry away when once again she shot out a hand to stop me, and said:

“Joel will return. You’ve done an excellent job safeguarding the artefacts, and Henna is well. You are extraordinary, and haven’t yet discovered the full extent of your powers. When you do, use them wisely. Beware of a man with the initials TD.”

I was still staring at her and only a crooked yellow toothy smile brought me back to earth. I couldn’t get my breath. “What…?” I whispered, in total confusion. “Go, child, no doubt you’ll go straight to the basement and do a reading about me. See what you get”! And with that she laughed quite hysterically to herself.

The next thing I knew I was running out of the wood, although I wasn’t frightened at all, so I stopped to check myself. I could hear the singing again! I listened hard but it sounded so distant now. Part of me thought about going back to her but I knew it would be like she had never been there.

I walked home to find Jay at the front door, a lovely smile crossing his face when he saw me safely home, as it was getting dark.

“Oh, Jay – wait while I tell you what just happened to me”!

News from Henna

Henna's reading  by Aisselle A T Gabegie
Henna’s reading , a photo  on Flickr.

The magickal items were successfully installed yesterday afternoon, and are now safe and secure, watched over by the Guardian of the Basement. I must say that he seems most effective, as this morning a long-standing client who had come for her reading paled to the colour of goat’s cream and ran screaming up the basement steps, into the kitchen and away out of the back door before I had a chance to explain. Perhaps I should have warned her what to expect.

But my main news today is that I’ve had an email from Henna. Not a scrap of paper torn out of an exercise book or a witchy magazine but an email! Here it is.

Aiss dear I did a reading for you last night with Uncle Al’s tarot. Two cards, the HP and the 5 of disks or whatever they are. See? Obvious straight off. I’m always the HP and the 5 is nasty old Worry with a Cap and all those grinding wheels. You’re worried about me for some reason. Well don’t be. I’m fine and quite crazy at standing on my own two. Merlin and the Grand O had a falling out and I was in the middle but came on top and that’s where I’ll stay as long as you keep the stuff safe.

And I’m having a very nice time with a young Vic who’s putting me up in his cassock or maybe it’s hammock I dunno.

So no need to 5 of disks OK? Love to Jay and Joel Ma.

No love for me then – how like Henna. But at least she was concerned enough about me to do a reading and to email, and it seems that she is fine and that there’s no need for Jay and yours truly to go travelling, either actually or astrally, at least in connection to Henna or for the time being. Perhaps the Chariot card from the ZF Enchanted reading had a different meaning, although it’s unusual for me to be mistaken. Time will tell.

Till when, Aisselle


Ritual items  by Aisselle A T Gabegie
Ritual items , a photo by Aisselle  on Flickr.

We spent Friday reorganizing the basement. The rabbits have been relocated – Jay made them a cosy hutch and a large run in the garden and they settled in immediately, running about and kicking up their hind legs. Arthur Edward and Pixie excelled themselves with high leaps in the air before snuggling up together by the food bowl.

We performed a ritual cleansing – after an actual cleansing of course – with lots of sprinkling and the tinkling of many bells. The round table where I read for clients remains in its usual place, but Minet erected a special altar using the green chest that contained the Druid’s book, covered it with black felt and set the ritual items ready.

These are the things Hermaphroditey asked me to collect from the wood: a birdstone for flight and the feathered ones; a fishstone for swimming and the scaled ones; two feathers from a bird of prey for passionless efficiency; the skull of a badger to represent mammals, and so that neither the Grand Ovum or Myrrdin badgers us for the sacred objects; a Hermaphroditey stone (it’s that one top left of the photo – please work it out for yourselves); a piece of magickal wood to represent tree spirits; and a crystalline stone for precious minerals and sharpness of intellect.

Jay has taken a picture of these for my many devoted followers, but the snails and the insects wouldn’t stay still long enough to be in it, so I’m keeping them safe in an old fish tank that Minet converted to a snail/insectarium with earth and greenery. Please do not email me about these creatures – they will be well-looked after and released into the wild after the ritual.

The elements themselves are also to be present, but these will be put in place at the foot of the Guardian. This is obviously a metaphorical foot, as all we have of him is his head, but Minet found a lovely tree stump, so saving Jay the task of making a plinth, busy as he was making the hutch and run for the rabbits at the time.

Saturday was spent resting, fasting and in conversation with Hermaphroditey to hone the ritual to perfection. This morning we have been making cakes and preparing refreshments in readiness for the post-ritual celebration. Elderflower splash, nettle, honey and oat cakes, and an infusion of mugwort – if indeed mugwort was what the crone gave me that had such an interesting effect. One can never be sure, and it’s no good asking her as she seems incapable of either speech or hearing.

At the magickal hour of three o’clock today, Jay, Minet and yours truly, Aisselle Gabegie, will repair to the basement to perform the necessary – more than that I cannot say, as it would be to break the magickal code. SMIB.

Till when, Aisselle

Of doors, crones and guardians

Bohemian Gothic Five of Pentacles by Aisselle A T Gabegie
 Five of Pentacles,  on Flickr.

Jay has spent the morning making a new door for the basement. When he’d finished he realized that he couldn’t lift it, but luckily Minet was able to help and they soon had it secured at the top of the basement steps. When I returned with the man from the Recycling Point I was amazed to find it already in place. It is almost the twin – perhaps the half-brother or sister? – of the door on the Five of Pentacles card of the Bohemian Gothic Tarot, except that the metalwork hinges are not quite so decorative. It lends a lovely aura of Gothic Mystery to the kitchen.

But I had not been idle either. While Jay and Minet were setting in place arrangements for the security of the basement, I had been collecting ritual items for the ceremony to install the two sacred and precious objects – the Book of the Druid Grand Ovum and the Skull of Balaam’s Ass (well most of it, anyway). I had taken my extra large carpet bag and visited the magic wood, where I found all manner of wondrous things (of which I will write more another time).

I had turned towards home when I remembered the crone, and made a detour to the corner of the field that adjoins the wood, where her battered caravan stands, tilted at a slight angle. She appeared as I approached, dressed as before in the red velvet dressing gown, oversized pink carpet slippers and thick wrinkled stockings. She took me by the hand and drew me up the steps and into the van as she usually does, and I sat down at the table while she set the tea things.

I’m not quite sure what sort of tea it was – mugwort perhaps – it had been nettle the last time I visited – but the aromatic oils swirled deliciously up my nose with rather an odd effect, and I felt quite dreamy and lightheaded for some time after I left her, clutching a Cadbury’s chocolate finger and a scrap of paper on which she’d drawn some lines and arrows. I sat down in the field and ate her finger while I examined this scrap, knowing it was an important document. After all, the crone had guided my steps each time I’d visited her door. And thinking of doors, I wondered if perhaps the information she’d given me was relevant to Jay’s work securing the basement.

I puzzled over that scrap of paper for quite some time, until something about the scribbled signs and arrows reminded me of a map, and I stood (somewhat shakily) and tried to get my bearings. I wondered if they pointed further down what seemed on the map (if indeed it was one), to represent the lane that runs along the end of our orchard to a road with many cars. If so, it appeared that across this road was a square marked with a large X and beside it the words: Recycling Point. It was a message.

With a whispered prayer to Hermaphroditey I left the field and set off down the lane.

I don’t know how I managed to cross the road unscathed – it could only be that Hermaphroditey had heard my prayer and was guiding my steps. But I did, in spite of much bellowing of klaxons and shouts from car windows, and there, on the other side, in the corner of a space surrounded by trees I saw it. No, not the square depicted on the map, or the cross or even the Recycling Point, whatever that may be – although it must have something to do with bicycles – but The Guardian of the Basement.

I recognized him immediately. He looked down from on high, one glance from his eyes sufficient to send even those initiated ones less strong than myself running for the protection of their extra powerful tinfoil hats. I knew he was destined to reside in the basement, but he was so elevated that even I, with all my powers, was helpless to reach him.

It was while I was wondering what to do that a man approached and asked if he could help. I told him that I needed The Powerful Guardian, but was unable to reach that high, and he winked and asked me what it was worth. Puzzled for a few moments, I decided to offer him a tarot reading in my basement if he would climb up and bring The Guardian down to me, and he readily agreed, and went to find a ladder.

The task accomplished, he offered to drive me home, The Guardian being awkward and quite heavy (and I already had the carpet bag to carry). He seemed very keen to have the tarot reading as soon as possible.

And so I found myself with all the items needed for the installation ceremony. Jay and Minet had gone to count the animals, having finished the door. The tarot reading passed pleasantly enough although there was something strange and dreamy about the experience, but the man seemed very happy as he took his leave.

When Jay comes back I will ask him to make a suitable plinth ready for our Guardian of the Basement, but now I must go and lie down as I am having some very odd flashbacks about that reading.

Till when, Aisselle


Pashmina by Aisselle A T Gabegie
Pashmina, a photo  on Flickr.

I think Minet may be going through some mental changes, she went out earlier and was missing for a while.
I was starting to worry as we have become so close recently and she doesn’t usually stray very far, so I prepared myself for a reading to look into this when I saw her trudging down the path, arms filled with large brown paper bags. I must have been so wrapped up in Jay’s trip out that I didn’t notice her slip away.

I don’t know what possessed me but I felt she needed time to herself, so I hid behind the curtain so I could observe her return without intruding. As she passed she was humming a little song to herself which sounded like I’m every woman or something like that. I saw under her arms the bags she was carrying had black lettering scrawled on the sides which read Primmak, I think, I couldn’t see properly. Once she had ascended the stairs I snook up for a peak. Readers, you must understand, I am not a snoop but I feel a new responsibility now I have acquired a half sister.

I watched through the slightly open door as she pulled various clothing, accessories and jewellery from the bags. I hoped that she hadn’t robbed or swindled a gypsy. Where did she get all this wonderful colourful attire? We have enough trouble at this house at the moment, she knows that. I watched as she danced in front of the mirror holding various garish robes up against herself, pouting and pirouetting.
I mused as to whether I should be concerned but felt so happy to see her smile like that, so light hearted, she deserves this after the hard time she’s been through.

I left her to have her moments and considered reading the cards again, when she came down the stairs, looking like a modern gypsy fortune teller, very striking indeed. I asked her where she got her new things and was so relieved to hear that she’d been into town and sat and done some readings in exchange for cash in the local cafe, she then used the cash to get some new clothes to ‘keep up the disguise’ she said. She also brought me back a pashmina as a present, which is a lovely shade of lilac and which I shall cherish forever.

I had nothing to worry about after all.

After all these years, now having a half sister is such a blessing, even with all the troubles it brings.

Keep well dear readers.


Four of Tinfoil Hats

I have rested, and am renewed. This morning I created a new card for my Grand Ellessia Tarot – the Four of Tinfoil Hats.

You see me on my couch in the basement in a deep recuperative state, charging my metaphysical batteries, four of my most powerful tinfoil hats above me on the shelf. They are also recharging in readiness for the next reading. I have depicted this part of my recuperation rather than the earlier part in bed with Jay. Open as I am on this, my very own blog, read by my many devoted followers, there are some things that must remain both occult and sacred.

Now I must attend to creating the vault in the basement. Jay is at this moment at a place called Bee and Queue, whatever and wherever that may be. I can only guess that bees go there to queue for something, which seems very odd, as bees are mostly far too busy to queue for anything and gather nectar without the need to waste time on such things. He did speak of strengthening the basement door before he left though, so perhaps he will collect the necessary materials on his way back.

I will need another powerful Guardian when the work is complete, and of course there are the ritual items to gather together. I must make a list and venture into the magic wood this very afternoon. And perhaps call on the old lady who lives in the caravan – she may have some Spiritual Insights to pass on to me.

Till when, Aisselle

Hermaphroditey and a reply

After many hours alone in the basement, many readings from many decks, and several changes of tinfoil hat, I called desperately upon Hermaphroditey. I know that she has said I am no longer a Seeker – but in this matter I feel as young and unwise as the day I was born.

Strangely – and sadly – she was not at first pleased to have been called, but when she saw the book her attitude changed. She reminded me that Henna is my mother. She may not be the wisest of mothers, but mother she is, and I owe her a great debt. She has set me a task – difficult though it is – and I must do as she asks, no matter what it costs me. This means keeping safe the skull – which I note that the Ovum believes has been buried – and the book. Clearly he has no idea that either is here with us. And neither he nor we have any idea where Henna actually is. I find it had to believe that she has returned to Myrddin, if she has angered him so, even if he has such a way with the women. She has a way with the men too, and there are many men in Wales, even if none are uncles. I feel sure she has discovered a warm bed and congenial company.

I don’t know why she said “here it is” when sending the book – almost as if I had asked for it. Even I cannot even decipher its mysteries. It will be material for many winter evenings of careful study, if it is to remain with us.

I fear the wrath both of the Ovum and of Myrddin. The first matter is the letter. I must answer it, or he may visit, and were he here I have no doubt that he would sense the presence of the book. I sat down and composed a brief, truthful, and deceptively uninformative response which gave nothing away.

Dear GOOD,

Thank you for your letter. I am sorry to say that I have no knowledge of Mother’s whereabouts. She visited me some months ago, as you know, but I have not seen her since then. If she is not with you, I do not know how best to contact her. If she is hiding from you, she is probably shielded against detection; if you cannot locate her yourself, I do not see how I could do so. But I thank you for Myrddin’s address; I remember him well from my childhood, and if I happen to be in Wales, I will certainly pay him a visit and if Mother is there, I will do as you ask and beg her to return to you. Of her having your book I know nothing, but I will ask her to return that also, should our paths cross. As you know, this happens rarely.

Respectfully yours, Your Common-Law Step-Daughter, Aisselle

I have kept the advertisement. One never knows when such things may be useful. And it has some sentimental interest; Myrddin was always kind to me as a child. It was some small consolation for the lack of uncles. But without Balaam’s Ass’s Skull, he will be at least a little less powerful than before.

I think we must create a safe vault in the basement. It will have many uses in time, but for now, it will be for the Preservation of these Most Spiritual Articles. As soon as I articulated this idea, Hermaphroditey expressed her total approval, and presented me with a suitable ritual. When all the necessary items are in place, she will join us to add strength to its imperviousness. After this I must work on some astral travelling. I must know where Henna is and what Myrddin is up to, and I must also teach Minet the basics. I have been remiss.

I am now exhausted, and must retire to my bed with Jay. Tomorrow is another day, and I hope a quieter one.

Till then, Aisselle

A letter from Ave

diagrams by Aisselle A T Gabegie
diagrams, a photo by Aisselle on Flickr.

I had been thinking about the two objects sent to me by Henna for safe-keeping. Where am I to put them? They are too precious to bury or hide somewhere outside among the elements, yet keeping them in the house seemed too insecure a setting. I had examined the book and its strange diagrams and sigils but could make nothing of them, and as for the donkey’s skull, I could not imagine how it was to be reunited with its lower jawbone if I followed Henna’s instructions to keep it safe, and it must surely be dangerous if the Grand Ovum would not allow it in the house in its present state.

I decided on a little distraction therapy and began to go through the sackful of letters that the postman left this morning. After a while one caught my attention. Something about the broad swirly script seemed familiar, so I left the others and took it outside to open and read. I will post it here in full to satisfy the curiosity of my many followers.

Dear Aisselle,

Henna has stolen my book. This is partly my own fault, as I originally sent her to Myrddin to appropriate the star of his magickal accoutrements, the skull of Balaam’s Ass. This was necessary to stop him causing further trouble here. He is usurping my position in the village as Most Spiritual Person, and even advertising in magazines.

Well, you know what your mother is like – she left part of it behind, which rendered it unsafe, if not dangerous, and I refused her entry to our abode until she’d buried the thing.

All well and good, you may say. But Myrddin has worked some sort of spell on her and she said she’d buried it and returned – for only one night – one very special night, I might add – just long enough to steal my best book and disappear. No doubt she has gone back to himself – he has a way with the female sex.

Aisselle, she is my Soul – if you could please contact her and use your influence to get both Henna and my book back I would forgive her and be forever in your debt. You will find Myrddin’s contact details on the enclosed page that I tore from the magazine, circled in green biro.

Your Common-Law Step-Father, Ave. GOOD (Grand Ovate, Order of Druids)

Distraction therapy this was not. I shall retire to the basement and consult the cards.

Till soon, Aisselle


Jay went into the village today. He said we cannot hide away for ever or people will believe we are up to no good. When he returned he handed me a magazine which someone had given him for me to look at. It seems they thought the picture on the cover might be me, Aisselle. I can see why they thought so – the hair in particular is much like my own when I unplait it for Jay – but I have never stood among the little folk in this way, though I should like to.

Jay said he had looked through it as he walked and it looked to him like a load of cobblers – I am never sure when he says this what shoes have to do with things, but still. Even so, Minet and I went through the pages with interest.
There are some strange people on this good earth – and probably on other earths too. I see that it is possible to purchase ten minutes of Spiritual Insight for £2.90. I am most fortunate that Hermaphroditey has never asked me for money! Julie, Ivy, Dylan and Laura will give you genuine information for a consideration. I wonder if anyone sells false information – an interesting thought. The Spell Lady offers almost anything, and the number of the World’s Finest Mediums is very many indeed. I was also amused to see information on how to become a money magnet. I think we know of someone who must have read this before, but Minet shuddered at the sight, and I turned over quickly.

When I then saw that she was showing an unhealthy interest in something called Cosmic Ordering, using the One Command. I decided that the publication was not suited for her at this stage of her learning, if indeed it is not positively dangerous, and insisted that we should later repair to the basement for some intensive study. Meanwhile, I told her to go and feed the alpacas. They are particularly fond of her.

I am so grateful that I am spiritually advanced enough to see the dangers in placing something of this nature where those who know no better can see it. There are all sorts of little “spells” designed to give the reader freedom, and to “purify”. These are so misleading to the uninitiated, and I feel sure many readers are desperately disappointed in the results. Nevertheless, there were some useful nuggets of information to be had. I see that my Native American Spirit is a Red-Tailed Hawk – much nicer than Aries, I think – and my plant a dandelion. As I can see many in the field today, I was reminded that we must start on the dandelion wine soon, as the flowers are already almost at their best.
I had almost forgotten that asparagus is in season; I thank this publication for that reminder. It is an excellent medicine for so many things – the kidneys and women’s problems – as well as being a powerful aphrodisiac – and it happens also to be delicious. I must collect some later, for dinner. I hope Jay can be persuaded to wear his Cernunnos outfit.

I continued to browse idly through the pages and suddenly saw an advertisement that made my blood run cold. A large section of the page was given over to Merlin – Myrddin – in – Wales, offering all manner of things for purchase! He is close to Llanelli, it seems – which would explain why the sea came to mind so powerfully this afternoon. I have such happy memories of playing on the beach when I was younger, and of the hot chips eaten from greasy newspaper. I thought I was just being nostalgic – but clearly this sudden thought was a pointer. I had thought Merlin had moved on – but if he is indeed in Wales, I suddenly fear that this may be the person from whom Henna stole. If so this is bad news indeed. To anger Merlin is no small thing. He must have become something less than he was when I met him as a small child, to advertise in such a publication – and if it was indeed he with whom Henna took refuge, to have called himself a warlock would be to lower himself considerably. Even so, I cannot believe he is anything less than powerful and dangerous in the extreme. Henna may say Stay where you are, and keep the book safe – but how much is she at risk – out there in the Land of No Uncles? And is the Ovum able to protect her and will he even wish to try, if he finds out she stole from Myrddin?

Before I had time to worry any more, a rather sulky Minet returned from the field. We shall now go to the basement. She clearly needs a lesson. I must consider Henna and this new complication afterwards.

Till when, Aisselle