@whoisnot.bsky.social Very, very happy birthday, Gábor. I hope the coming year is truly transformative. Much love.

We had a nice surprise recently. A box of special Red Phone Box hardcovers was discovered. You'd think we would have one, but when we had to leave London, I accidentally packed only one copy and it was one of the mass printed ones. I'd forgotten how beautiful they are.

THE PYLON PEOPLE RETURN ⚡️📡⚡️ Seven years have passed since the first Pylon People release. Seven years that somehow feel like a century of bad signals, dead air, black fields, and voices coming through the static. ⚡️📡⚡️Available on Bandcamp only: pylonpeople.bandcamp.com/album/hookla...

Goodnight from Leah Flitford, yet again scrubbing ectoplasm off the skirting boards after a séance gone awry. Goodnight from Pengrove Primary School, where all the leaves and twigs on the nature table have twisted themselves to spell the words: ‘WE KNOW’. Goodnight from Hookland.

Welp, just deleted Google Chrome from all my devices. Which took some doing on the Macs because of the hidden 5Gb LLM model it had sneakily installed without permission, which is *why* I'm yeeting this malware browser for good.

It's true. And amazingly good fun!

Goodnight from Mary Marlow, pouring extra cider into the Gathergood stew she’s making for her late husband’s birthday dinner. Goodnight from Susie Mugford, feeling hollowed out by The Boom-boom Club and wishing there was a spell to cure the heart of tenderness. Goodnight from Hookland.

There will be disappearing dolphins (@iansimmons1960.bsky.social take note); naked amnesiacs; daylight vanishings; UFO cults; black dogs; cunning folk and even a mention of Spring-heeled Jack. There might even be some free Hookland fudge.

If you have ever wanted to hear me talk about folklore, Forteana and Hookland in an East End pub, this is your chance.

Goodnight from The Bloody Babe pub, where the ferret fashion parade has sharply divided regulars on the wisdom of ever putting animals in costume. Goodnight from Dr. Fiona Low, continuing her experiments on containing spirits in the magnetic fields of C90 cassettes. Goodnight from Hookland.

Let's see, what sort of thing for today, then? Let's stay in Hookland for a bit- King Under Sea of that county. Good morning.

So, about that time a friend and I ended up being menaced by fae... old.reddit.com/r/Experience...

Did I mention the time I spent a month planning and executing a Chaos Magick ritual that spectacularly -- and implausibly -- brought me the exact result I asked for in less than five minutes? It's here, if you're curious. old.reddit.com/r/Experience...

That would be the time @hookland.bsky.social, our friend SD, and I accidentally spent a couple of weeks in a parallel reality version of the UK. It's too long to thread here, but: www.reddit.com/r/Glitch_in_... We literally saw reality shift in front of our eyes. Wild, paradigm-shattering glory.

I lived in a pub when I was younger, a rural spot a short way outside the market town of Andover in (Old) Hampshire, southern England. One of the places I used to drive out to was an old, decrepit hill-side pond in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by really gnarled trees.

In honour of @cultauthor.bsky.social's birthday yesterday, here's a few reposts of links to some of my strangest experiences.

You tell yourself it's the ivy moving against the glass. Tell yourself old, half-abandoned buildings are full of noises you'll never fathom out. Then the voices start and you realise no writhing vegetation, no auditory pareidolia from ancient pipes offers up full sentences.

The locked attic room in Ashcourt from where science fiction writer Olag Gandle disappeared on February 15th, 1936. The disappearance remains unsolved and a matter of much speculation. It has entered the folklore of the county as faith, as ritual. #LightACandleForOlagGandle

...at any rate, good afternoon. Queen of Owls from Hookland for you.

I need to say a very sad R.I.P. to @mystificus.bsky.social. She was wickedly funny, ferociously clever, endlessly insightful and entertaining, and a good friend. The world is dimmer for her loss. Rest well, Cee. We'll miss you.

So this looks epic...

@catvincent.bsky.social Happy birthday, Cat!

Some homes hold their ghosts with quiet forbearance. They do not boast of their phantoms nor advertise for psychic researchers to poke and test them. They accommodate both living and dead residents, afford privacy to both sides. Places of gentle spectral tolerance. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

Goodnight from the long-shuttered cabins of the abandoned Neverland holiday camp, its resident shades still drunkenly dancing to Petula Clark records. Goodnight from the fields of Coldharbour Farm, where a bear made of mist is moving against the prevailing wind. Goodnight from Hookland.

Good night, my brother. Bòn chans.

The land has been year-walked. The future has been met in the lanes and ways. The cunning folk have conferred. On the doors of The Raven, The Woodwose's Crown and all the other pubs they use, the proclamation has gone up: 'This is the YEAR OF THE GREEN PATHS.'

What the cunning folk of Hookland do on #NewYearsEve - year-walking. May your troubles not cross the threshold of midnight. May blessings walk down the lane to meet you in the coming year.

Day 24 of #HooklandChristmasTree decoration. We place miniature ceramic bee hive on the tree. Time to tell the sleeping bees all our news, tell them of the year. All its joyful arrivals, all its harrowings and sad exits. We sing them the land and ask for honeyed blessings.

I think it was Chemnitz :)

16/12/25 - nocturn

I remember certain roads Dad used to speed down. Way above the speed limit despite what Mum would say. He'd race them like we were being chased by something invisible. Now when I go down them, I can't help but feel spooked. Feel as if something is about to leap from the trees. – Cassie Beard #VOH

This is vaguely threatening 😭

Yes. Exactly this.

Dee Nickerson, contemporary painter who explores themes of living in the countryside #WomensArt #FridayFeeling #ArtAdvent

Cold moon rising in the frosty sky

So tired for the last couple of months. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh. (Yes, I know the medical reasons why, don't fear.)

A vaguely house shaped allegory for resilience, entropy and the endless war between hope and despair since the builders promised they'd definitely be able to start work on the repair job on the second Friday in October. In 1867.

Witchery is relationships. There can be no good relationship without listening. The witch attends the river not just to learn all it has seen as it has carved the land, but to foster a bond with it. For respect starts in hearing others speak their truths. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

Those living with a view of the cemetery of St. Mild Undershaft report seeing not phantom folk, but rather floating ghost lights, parading pillars of blue gas. Often these sightings cause a heightened discomfort for the dead dehumanised are revealed as truly distant. – #CJosiffe

"Please, call me Yog-Sothoth. Yogurt Sotheby-Otherton sounds so formal."

At Lammas, the borders of Faery expand. They enfold. They entangle. To walk the edge of the field is to risk accidentally crossing into those silvered lands with two moons and unfamiliar stars. No wonder it is regarded as a date of disappearance. – #CLNolan #Lammas

2/5

"Hoof and horn, hoof and horn, All that dies shall be reborn. Corn and grain, corn and grain, All that falls shall rise again." Blessed Lughnasadh friends🌾 #Lughnasadh #lammas #harvest