Angels and Demons of Peckham Rye

People living near Peckham Rye, in South London, are complaining about being woken in the dead of night by what they call "weird demonic chanting" coming from the depths of Peckham Rye Common.

One resident wrote on the East Dulwich Forum: "Did anyone hear this last night at about 3am? Really scary - could hear it from our flat. What's all that about?"

Another replied: "It happens about three or four times a week, always 3AM, and drives me insane."

Others have also heard the strange sounds, and have attributed it to such things as a Black Mass or Faustian performances.

However, one skeptic asked: "What makes you think it is demonic?" Which is, of course, a very sensible question.

I assume - hopefully correctly - that very few people in Peckham are actually in the habit of conversing with demons - or, indeed, are demons themselves.

Peckham Rye is certainly considered a dangerous place to live – according to Wikipedia "Peckham is a high-crime area with high levels of gang violence". But I'd guess the break-ins, muggings and gang fights the area is notorious for are committed by human criminals rather than denizens of Hell or any other infernal plane.

Wikipedia also provides some interesting snippets about the occult history of Peckham Rye - but interestingly that has more to do with angels than demons. It states:

"In 1767 William Blake visited Peckham Rye and had a vision of an angel in a tree. In 1993, at the request of the Dulwich Festival, artist Stan Peskett painted a mural of Blake's vision next to the Goose Green playground in East Dulwich."

Could it be possible that the mysterious chanting is, in fact, an attempt to contact Blake's tree-hugging angel?

I was once invited to take part in an angelic magickal ritual from a Rennaissance grimoire - though not on Pekham Rye Common I hasten to add.

This primarily involved standing robed in a candlelit circle and chanting the names of angels, but, I would have to say, that there was nothing particularly angelic-sounding about those names. They weren't just the names of famous angels such as Gabriel - they were little known ones with names that were unfamiliar and hard to pronounce.

I've never taken part in any demonic ritual - from dusty old grimoires or otherwise - but I'd hazard a guess that one might involve chanting the names of demons, which would sound just as unfamiliar and hard to pronounce as angels' names.

Out of curiosity, and to do a rough comparison, I decided to look up the names of angels and demons on Wikipedia. Sure enough that wonderful source of information had a page of each and, as I suspected, I couldn't have told an angel from a demon just from its name. Have a look for yourself at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_theological_angels and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_theological_demons and see what you think.

However, if I was inclined to look for conspiracy theories, I might think that this ritual on Peckham Rye Common was simply a small part of some terrible master plan.

Remember that strange stone I found by William Blake's grave in Bunhill Fields just over a year ago?

The stone was surrounded by red rose petals and on it was written the words:

"Blake Rising
Bunhill Fields
Weds 12 August
1pm"

At the time I was fearful of confronting zombie Blake, summoned from his grave by a spot of lunchtime necromancy. But perhaps it was just the start of something far worse - a plan to raise the visionary artist as an undead vampire to rule over London in some twisted version of Jerusalem built on dark, satanic mills.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to investigate those other areas of London associated with Blake and find out if any demonic chanting or signs of necromantic rites have been discovered there too.

Of course, if you happen to know what's really going on at Peckham Rye in the dead of night, do let me know by leaving a comment or emailing badwitch1234@gmail.com

The picture shows Blake's The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with Sun (1805)

Links
http://www.eastdulwichforum.co.uk/forum/read.php?5,543811,543938
http://www.badwitch.co.uk/2009/08/blake-rising-spot-of-lunchtime.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peckham
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_theological_angels
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_theological_demons
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_blake

William Blake in London: A Green and Pleasant Land

The day before yesterday was, I read in the paper, the hottest February 13 on record.

I'm not surprised. I spent my lunchtime on Wednesday sitting in a lovely enclosed garden a short walk from where I work.

The garden is a peaceful haven amid the office blocks and busy city streets but it was the first time this year it has been warm enough to sit there for more than few minutes without wearing my gloves and turning up my collar against the cold. The sun was out, one tree was thick with white blossoms and others were sprouting tiny green buds. Birds chirruped among the crocuses. It was hard to make myself return to the office and I thought how perfect it would be if it was like that on Valentine's Day.

Except that it wasn't.

February 14 was overcast and bitterly cold. More like a normal February day, in fact. So, instead of spending my lunch hour sitting in a lovely spring garden I went for a walk.

I had thought of engaging in some Valentine's Day retail therapy but, for some reason, my feet lead me instead to Bunhill Fields Burial Ground.

You might think a cemetery is a strange place to go on Valentine's Day, and I admit I felt I was giving in to my inner goth when I walked through the wrought iron gates, but I don't regret it at all.

Bunhill Fields has been a burial ground for more than a thousand years and the name is derived from 'Bone Hill'. It was designated as a public open space in an 1867 Act of Parliament and, as a leaflet I picked up says, "The four hectares of Bunhill Fields are an oasis of calm and greenery in a busy, congested locality just north of the City of London's Square Mile."

It was the perfect antidote to the commercialised festival of love that is February 14 in our modern world - the tawdry pink tat in every shop window, the flower sellers hawking hothouse roses for £30 a bunch on street corners and the newspaper adverts telling us how we still aren't too late to book up an expensive evening for ourselves and our loved one.

At the centre of Bunhill Fields Burial Ground I came across the gravestone of the artist, poet and visionary William Blake and his wife, Catherine. I hadn't realised it was there at all. When I stopped to photograph it, I saw that people had left offerings - coins, leaves, even a chocolate bar. I felt humbled. In the heart of a bleak and cold part of London people were showing their love for someone who rejected greed and commercialism and who dreamt of an England that was a green and pleasant land.

Bunhill Fields is between City Road and Bunhill Row, London. The nearest stations are Old Street and Moorgate.

Visit: www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/corporation/living_environment/open_spaces/