Today I learnt my uncle sometimes dresses as a priest and goes into betting shops shouting: “My God has forsaken me. Why the fuck won’t God let my horse win?” He has also gone into Iceland dressed as a priest shouting: “God, where are the fucking chips? Show me the chips oh Lord, show me the chips!”

Arcane disputes in the hovel 193: “David Bowie was a big fan of A Country Practice, doesn’t mean he wanted to guest star.” “The world has changed since then. If he was alive now he would guest star.”

The threshold sings a song of seduction. Shoreline. Riverbank. Wood edge. The witch hears it as summoning, as a promise of magics. It is a kiss in her ear, a pull upon her her bones. The witch is one who answers the call of wonder. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

A big ask for my #Letterpress friends! I would like to ask a few working printers (amateur or pro, different experience levels welcome) to share their thoughts about the current state of the craft with a particular emphasis on their feelings about deep impression / debossing as … 1/2

Atlantic City is a zombie song. You will not convince me otherwise.

Most people blame it on the boogie. Mrs. S. is blaming it on Ms. Marple.

At some point you have to realise that if life is The Muppet show, you aren’t Kermit, you are Scooter or Beaker. You might even be Fozzie Bear.

Hookland closed to technology problems and health issuses. Not sure when it will be back.

Our language becomes fluid, blurred. Gateway. Threshold. Portal. All these things imprecise and yet signalling what we feel as a truth: beyond this opening is the strange. Whether we go through becomes a litmus test. Do we want that possibility of encountering the uncanny? – Dr. M. Benn

For those who have an interest in Bear, I can report that he has recovered from his poisoning/near death in December. His liver has recovered and he is back to bringing me in sticks, pens stolen from neighbours and occasional cigarettes for Phil Hine.

No amount of modern refurbishment has dispelled the reputation of Weychester Theatre Royal as one of England's most haunted entertainment venues. Of course, being built atop the grounds of mediaeval hospital is asking for ghost consequence.

Whatever the weather, you can always find some adherents to the Black Fathom Faith in wordless wave communion. They storm-stare, listen to long sunken voices rasp against the stones of the shore. We who are outside this salt sect can only imagine their ecstasies. – #CLNolan

@catvincent.bsky.social Happy birthday brother.

One of our biggest challenges is not collapsing and becoming our own black holes. Crushing all the possibilities. Refusing to be the swallower of all light, all hope.

Oh for a Miss Marple show where she blackmails murders to not poke about in their business and expose old crimes with her keen powers of detection. If they refuse to co-operate she threatens to kill further victims to bring them to the attention of the police. Her catchphrase: “Don’t fuck with me.”

There are places that whisper to us: "Hurry home!" Places that whisper: "You are not alone here." The idea that consecrated ground is silent on such matters is risible. The average English boneyard is crowded with shades. It enfolds with spectral mumbles. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

I will not piss on the chips of anyone’s spiritual practice, but if you are English, maybe explore your native Candlemas traditions and folklore rather that grab onto another cultures manifestations. Dress a well, make a rush wreath, dress a candle. Maybe leave the cross-weaving alone.

On clear winter mornings, the sort where you regret wearing fingerless gloves within two minutes of being outside, I often go to the wood edge. Establish myself as a listening post. For the best conversations in witchcraft may start with a period of being quiet. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

If you have ever wanted to hear me talk about the role of Forteana and folklore within Hookland in an East End pub …. April is your lucky month.

Fine folk to follow: @marthawells.com @ramseycampbell.bsky.social @ianmcque.bsky.social @0tralala.bsky.social @julianneregan.bsky.social @lunatraktors.bsky.social @kymdeyn.bsky.social @sebbyb.bsky.social @kjsoar.bsky.social @jamiedelano.bsky.social @annodracula.bsky.social @tomsbrown.bsky.social #FF

Yeah chum, you think looking like Fred from Scooby Doo gone to seed/developed a meth addiction is edgy. If you don’t mind, I am just going to tune out your views on how I ought to be maximising the earning potential of my creative work. I’ll take advice from Velma, not from you. Hipster scum.

Some folk use social media as a rehearsal for a stand-up comedy gig they are never going to have the courage to try performing at. Each night I say a silent prayer that they have the courage to perform live on stage. This is not a selfless prayer, more a wish I never had to read the material here.

Not AI. Never AI in Hookland. As far as I am concerned, AI usually stands for Arseholes Involved and it will not be allowed across the county’s borders.

In the shade of the winter wood, the Tree Sprites may be sleeping, but it doesn’t mean that their dreams don’t walk. – Lou Kemp on her 1982 painting 'Wood Sprite Scratch IV'

The phantom economy has many meanings. In England, a good ghost story is hard currency in a pub. It can be exchanged for ale. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

I suspect it isn't just us witches who take inspiration from a wander around the Weychester Physic Garden. Where else can the public so easily learn the lore and interesting uses of aconite? The gardens are such a boon to folklorists and possible poisoners. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982

Miss Marple, but she is the one killing everyone and fitting up the so-called murderers by investing herself into the police investigations.

If you think now is the moment for pissing on someone’s chips, for trying to pull down something that gives a little sustaining wonder - you’re a wanker. If you think now is the time for pedantic theorising or backseat lecturing of others on the frontline - sit down and think about your numptytism.

The stone now called The Devil' Fingernail was once known as The Old King's Arrow and may have been the folkloric place called Wōdan's Spear. The importance isn't in the names themselves, but that the Long Neolithic has to power to demand such naming. – Dr. K. Brophy #StandingStoneSunday

We are community or we are less. We are engines of kindness and connectivity or we are less. When decency is framed as a radical position we must remain who we are. Our resistance is also in refusing to be less openhearted and filled with compassion.

We call such avoidances not swear words, but swerve words. The wise have them in their vocabulary. No-one wants to summon a heap of trouble. No-one wants to call down Faery wrath or the spite of Lazybones. The wise serve. – Molly Ash #VOH

In Hookland, Lazybones is an avoidance word, a word covering a taboo. It's akin to ancient Germanic cultures using bear to avoid saying the creature's actual name for fear utterance would call it to them. We say Lazybones because to speak its true name is a summoning. – Molly Ash #VOH

To stand at the edge of the wood is an intoxication. As a witch I feel it as a rush of green communion, a wave of possibility roaring towards me. You feel it touching you psychic skin, somewhere between the tease of a lover and warning of scratches to come. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

Ashcourt Necropolis may be territory ceded to the Empire of the Dead, but its peace is not easy. Lithic lookouts watch paths. Grave guardians stand by doors. The living are not forgiven all our trespass. Even if we've valid business with the departed, we remain a stone sufferance. – #CLNolan

I know it's hard for people who never heard The Hum to understand what we Pylon People were about. Transmission towers were our temporary temples. The wires charted the electric ley of the land. We marched under them and heard wonders. – Signal-catcher Rose, ex-Pylon Person #VOH

According to rumour, there are a number of post boxes in Hookland that have been sealed for being haunted. When you scrutinise the stories, most evaporate. However, odd facts remain. I mean, why on earth did the GPO use to employer the services of a 'ghost-layer'. – #MattAdams, 1982

Some of the mists in our minds are never going to dissipate. Some bits of us are always going to be stuck in November twilight. We walk and jangle the dozens of bottles of pickled time.

The now abandoned telephone exchange at Ashcourt Green. Allegedly heavily haunted between 1956-1968. Talk of lines crosse with necromantic networks. Calls of sobbing and whispered pleading traced back to lines that long ago ceased to be live. Spirit static, trauma undissipated.

I always thought it was telling that the Around Britain board game square for Hookland read: ‘Swept out into the waves by the King-Under-the-Sea Miss 3 turns’. - Claire Darling #VOH

To clarify for Americans as Starmer is shite and we English tend speak polite instead of direct. Americans, we love you, but we learnt from you to refuse mad kings. We expect to be at war with you this year. It doesn’t erase our love for you, but appeasing land-grabbing dictators ain’t happening.

Have arrived at eye clinic and found its staff are locked out for at least two hours. Happy happy joy joy. I have a cold bench, the prospect of rain and a 1970 Bunty annual I found on my trip over here. Could be worse.

Everyone has at least one forest inside them they are afraid to explore.

Also let us not forget the pear wassail ... I will wassail both apple and pear And give a share to Ghost Bear I will wassail both pear and apple And give a share to green chapel #Wassailing

Why much of the county seems somewhat sluggish today in the wake of yesterday's apple howling. #FolkloreSunday

Towards the apocalypse, we navigate by signs and wonders. We should not ever have to, but we do. This is the message I am taking from today’s rewatch.

Rewatching a fundamental to #Hookland movie - The Navigator: A Medieval Odyssey for the first time in 30 years. A little bit of magic to ward against the terror of my life.

One of the joys of collecting folklore is having conversations where lines such as: “When my sister spent some years transformed into a fox …” tumble out quite naturally. – #CLNolan #FolkloreSunday

In celebration of today's New Moon A fox curled up and dreaming of the moon 🦊🌑🌿 #NewMoon #FoxMoon #FoxoftheDay

At least UFOs have made driving the edge of Barrowcross more interesting. Used to be you'd turn a corner and only find a spectral Saxon or corpse cart. Now you might be bothered by spaceship from the Planet Skareg full of silver-suited wankers. – #DICallaghan talking with #DSNokes

On the gloom streets, on the gloaming streets, we hurry home. Rain-bullied, a hundred cold teeth biting our skin, we become envious of every warm spill of dry light. Envious until we remember the windows we pass are so utterly haunted that being soaked is preferable. – #DAKilroy, 1982