"He is, I think, something more useful than that: a man who finishes what men of imagination begin, and does not much mind that they receive the praise for it." — S. Ferranti, private journal, 16.05.1892

AR-CAM fragment dump: Voss wrote as if someone might read over her shoulder and under it at the same time. Ref. NEE/65/003.

The working horses are excited, as corn turns its face towards harvest. That is when Straw Hat Jack walks the hedgerows in his coat of chaff and summer dust. Mind you do not wave to him. Straw Hat Jack is always counting, and he never leaves with the same number he arrived with…

"Is there anybody out there to signal to at all? I notice I want it answered rather badly." — S. Ferranti, private journal, 03.02.1892

ON THIS DAY: 16 July 1922 The archive clerk found two copies of the same receipt from Mansion House. One was dated correctly. The other had already been stamped received. Index key: ASH. Nothing further attached.

AR-CAM fragment dump: The Syndicate liked respectable addresses. Respectability is useful when a room below the platform must not be noticed. Ref. MHB/64/002.

My grandmother's charm bracelet, so filled with stories. It's wonderful to think that in less than a month I will be wearing it for my handfasting, as I step into the next phase of my life 💚 Your ancestors are always with you, even in small ways 💚 #charms #wedding #handfasting #ancestors

ON THIS DAY: 15 July 1920 An inventory at the locked room below the platform listed a burnt meter card under "stationery". The hand that corrected it wrote "do not ask the platform staff." Index key: BRF. Nothing further attached.

A hush in high summer, usually in the late afternoon, when even the crows forget what they were saying. That is when the first scent of autumn slips through the hedgerows — a little dry leaf, a little old woodsmoke... The cunning folk say that is the land breathing in before it begans to let go.

During the 17thC, there were winters so cold that frost fairs were held on the River Thames. Here you can see a fair held in the winter of 1683/4. It's worth zooming in to see all the details. Maybe this thread gives you some cooler thoughts. #WyrdWednesday

They say that on the hottest evenings of summer, when the swifts glide over Brading and the old yew tree stands perfectly still, Little Jane Squibb sometimes walks the paths of St Mary’s churchyard once more. Step aside and let her past, she only wishes feel the warmth of July upon her face again

What do you hear in this transmission? What is calling form the fold?

Who are the Trinity Syndicate?

If you like mysteries then why not check out my other project — @syndicate.ar-cam.uk (The Trinity Syndicate) Lots more to come! I can assure you, it’s 100% AI free.

They say the coast feared the Revenue men, but the Revenue men feared Ruby Reid. She always knew when the cutters were coming before the lookouts did. Some called her a traitor, some called her a witch but the cunning folk said: “If Ruby asks where you’re bound, tell her where you’ve been instead.”

What’s that on the tree-line? My first thought was, of course, it’s a ghost. It’s not! But, once again, this just proves real life is as weird as the world of ghosts. Why is this strange figure in hunting gear sat on a saddle looking across the field? Creepy!

ON THIS DAY: 13 July 1914 A locked packet crossed London twice and returned to the old bay unopened. Its docket says the contents were "audible in poor weather." Index key: MHB. Nothing further attached.

"Who does not understand should either learn, or be silent" #botd 1527, John Dee; occultist, mathematician, astronomer, alchemist art: 'A depiction of John Dee and Edward Kelley invoking a spirit'

A tiny bit of green in a rusted and dry summer. The reasons for its existence can be explained quite easily, however, the stumbling upon and subsequent mood change it created was pure magic.

Bonus Book Cover of the Day:

The joy ❤️😭!! I had to go back to the old house to retrieve two carloads of stuff and while there, I went out onto the veranda to see the non-existent rice fields (just ugly, noisy housing now). Within seconds I heard: woop woop woop! Wings! Buddy and Sweet Pea came to say hi & hang out with me.

AR-CAM fragment dump: No source given. The hand is not familiar.

"Power is one thing sent along a wire. Signal, as Bidwell showed us, is another. Are they perhaps the same problem, looked at from two ends?" — S. Ferranti, private journal, 04.04.1891

AR-CAM fragment dump: A familiar official phrase appears again: weather interference, the old cover for things nobody wanted named. Ref. VRX/63/038. @hookland.bsky.social #Hookland

When the poppy pods begin to rattle, the cunning folk said the Elven #Summer Queen was counting her pennies for winter. “Poppy, poppy, lantern bright, Keeper of the noon-day light, Rattle softly in the sun, Tell us summer’s not yet done.” #folklore #magic

ON THIS DAY: 12 July 1911 A visitor at the Post Office basement signed the wrong book and was allowed in all the same. The entry beneath his name is only a row of three dots. Index key: HIG. Nothing further attached.

Recovered paper fragment. No source given. The hand is not familiar.

ON THIS DAY: 11 July 1908 A Queen Victoria Street clerk misfiled a charge for a scarred tuning fork at Mansion House. The clerk wrote "ordinary electrical work" beside it, then crossed out the word ordinary. Index key: ASH. Nothing further attached.

Art from the 1964 Dalek Annual by Richard Jennings (correct me if I am wrong) that feels Soviet, hopeful and full of wonder.

"A wave, once loosed into open space, is not so limited." — S. Ferranti, private journal, 30.10.1890

In Hookland, you will come across little signs of allegiance. In one window a Moss Maiden displayed, in another an avatar of the Queen of Owls. Coastal doors wear fealty to the King-Under-the-Sea as well as far away islands or orders militant of the Black Fathom Faith. – #MattAdams

The hollyhocks stand by the garden wall, As tall as gossip and twice as old. They say their flowers are magic woven, The loose summer hair of wandering elven, Caught on the hedges at dawn and breeze, And stitched into petals by the bees.

Yarrow! According to Richard Folkard, you could make a nosegay of coloured flowers, rue, and yarrow taken from a grave to dream of your destiny. Sprinkle the plants with oil of amber using your left hand, bind them around your head under your clean linen nightcap, and see what you dream about!

In Cumbrian dialects, black-kites is bramble. to mouse in the bramble patch come, "let us dine on autumn fayre" ~ from my: "often I stop and look back" book of Zen Haiku poetry bardofcumberland.com/poetry #bookwormsat #poetrylovers 📷 unknown

There is something about the call of crows on a hot summer morn. They sit upon the chimney pots remembering the bargains we have forgotten and roads we no longer walk. There is romance in such simple things; warm air, long grass, and eyes full of an old and patient wisdom. #Folklore #Summer

"It is a beautiful unification. It is also, though I am not yet certain why it troubles me, a cage." — S. Ferranti, private journal, 09.05.1890

"An image, dissolved into signal, sent down a wire, and made whole again at the other end!" — S. Ferranti, private journal, 22.02.1890

The problem was not new: In 1676, Ole Rømer had calculated the speed of light and in 1865, James Clerk Maxwell demonstrated mathematically that electromagnetic waves travel at the same speed...

In the time I have been away, I have written a 150 page story -- an unhistory if you will. This is the basis of a new project that I have put together. I did not want to unleash it without it being almost finished. I want friends to look and tell me what you think.

The dead transmissions of boneyard are not paused by summer's brutal heat. They shadow our minds. Whisper their names, their lives. Their urgency for us to know them is not diminished by any strength of sun. The dead transmissions are an infecting fever. – #DAKilroy

The smell of diesel exhaust hanging in the heat; a hot metallic miasma drifting above hedgerows and dusty verges. Somewhere in the back of every ageing Gen Xer's mind is the memory of endless summers spent wandering the ghosted roads while old engines muttered in the distance. It's dying now...

New Medieval Books: Crescent Dawn www.medievalists.net/2025/07/new-... #HistoricalFiction

The cunning folk say that midsummer saints do not shout or thunder; they keep watch in the long grass and in the hum of the bees.

Three little cats in the meadow grass, Chasing ‘hoppers as dance on past, Leaping for the butterflies, Beneath the hued, summer skys. “Home by dusk,” said the old hedge-wren, “For the long grass counts and counts again.” Home came two, the two alone, One still plays… … she’ll never go home.

I've walked through a field of barley when the seed heads were splitting open in the sun. It was like a concert of tiny crackles.

There are places that seem to collect silence. St Thomas of Canterbury in Newport has had over two centuries to gather quite a lot of it. The first post-reformation Catholic Church calls to hallows but is hindered by modernity.

Since 1897. We watch the seam between what can be measured and what cannot. Some of us never left the room where it started.

Thank you.

Your place in the acknowledgments alongside @lazaruscorporation.co.uk is well-deserved. Without you both, the county would not have lasted till now.

A beautiful honour to be mentioned in this wonderful book. David has created a beautiful home for us all and a magical piece of writing. All would do well to get yourself a copy... The word has power and magic and the deepness of the something other than the here and now.