Goodnight from The Old King Came To Meon Hill pub, where Emma Kyte has just been barred for graffitied curses in the ladies’ toilets. Goodnight from 42 Stonecutter Street, where the whole family is debating why the Faeries seem suddenly to like Jaffa Cakes so much. Goodnight from Hookland.

Don’t they just! #BookSky

The Long Neolithic often appears as a series of kingdoms. Hundreds of menhir monarchs ruling their fields, territories of moor and downs. No passport is needed to enter their realms, though an attitude of respect and reverence is often advisable. – Dr. K. Brophy #StandingStoneSunday

Just one more thing. If it’s “Alvin and the Chipmunks,” does that mean that Alvin isn’t a chipmunk?

Some of my colleagues use the term 'stone botherer' as slur. I refuse this. We might not view portal tombs as 'ley line hubs' or 'ghost-containment units', but we archaeologists are also stone botherers and I for one am proud of it. – Dr. K. Brophy #StandingStoneSunday

Goodnight from the teenagers of Leyfield, much less keen on a weekend cider party in the woods after recent reports of the Pell Hill Beast sightings. Goodnight from Emma Blackshaw, frantically trying to summon the Dreaming Door in her asylum cell. Goodnight from Hookland.

Saw this last week-end at a mystery all-nighter at the Prince Charles Cinema. Not wholly dreadful, but I kept wondering why Spike was less affected than Hoax, though he made contact earlier. Being a nerd can be a handicap, sometimes.

The Bonehorse Returns – Picture in acrylic and pen by Hookland Lou Kemp, 1980

Everyone knows there are nine witch hills in Hookland, but no-one can agree which nine hills they are. It's said if you climb to the top of them all, fabulous secrets will be revealed – the calling of winds, tunnels to St. Martin's Land, all the tumps where treasure still lies dreaming.

Another shot of the door at St Edward’s, Stow-on-the-wold.

"Ask nothing of your readers, and that is what they will give you."

Goodnight from Chas Topping, rendered sore and strangely mute after playing the wolf at yesterday’s St. Petroc celebrations. Goodnight from Belford Guide Camp, where the fireside storytelling has taken a sinister turn with mention of the missing Pelham girls. Goodnight from Hookland.

The threshold is an engine of wonder. The threshold is an engine of wonder. In its walking, in its crossing, the threshold is the witch's line. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

A witch knows her patch as intimately as her lover's skin. Knows where spring lingers late, woodland groves whose green canopy closes last. She knows spots of ultimate bluebells to be weaved between, places the Ghost Bear comes to find final ransoms. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkwitchFriday

Goodnight from Thurstone’s slightly drunken villagers, waiting for the prophetic pyre of St. Petroc to be lit. Goodnight from the Pavel Mikoyan Support Group in Ashcourt, where the attempt to make psychic contact with the cosmonaut has left everyone screaming again. Goodnight from Hookland.

Before I came to Hookland I didn't know of foris-marks – the point on the horizon where strangeness may be found; the possibility beyond next field, up the next copse is exactly where our border with Faery starts. Now I can't do without the dialect. – #MattAdams, 1982 #Hookland #WOTD

I often walk among those lonely stone houses of the dead. Sometimes I imagine I hear the weeping and mutterings of their resident spirits unable to comprehend why they no longer receive any visitors. Sometimes I know I do not imagine, just hear with a terrible, sad clarity. – #CLNolan

Good morning from Hookland.

Secret societies. Societies with secrets. Secret sex societies. Heretical offshoots of the Duat Club. Nasty little clubs that have limped on for two centuries just because they've got money and friends in high places. Weychester has them all. Let us knock on some doors. – #DICallaghan to #DSNokes

my uncle was skydiving and got stuck in a cloud he survived 73 days drinking rainwater and catching birds

Pink Floyd, after Syd Barrett was replaced by David Gilmour. I know they overlapped briefly, but it still counts.

Goodnight from Cecelie Walker, wishing she hadn’t read that story about Marrow-suckers to children that are now crowding her bed. Goodnight from Jonny Kew, desperately circling in his Piper PA-34 as he tries to find an airfield seemingly vanished into time. Goodnight from Hookland.

So keep them prisoner, then? I don't think so.

For a moment I thought this was the latest prank from Test Match Special.

Lol nicely done

Last few lines of the 80pp Hookland book of my recent talk with a few additional fragments should be written by the end of the week. Then there's just copyediting and it should be ready for a cover reveal. If nothing else, I think you will like the cover.

The holy well is not just sacred to the Christian. Part of my witchery involves obtaining water from certain springs. Of course, this means part of my witchery also involves carrying a bolt cutter. – #EmilyCBanting, 1981

For a sci-fi movie that still cuts the mustard, 1972's Silent Running had the effect on me that Project Hail Mary has on young people today. This thoughtful sci-fi movie imagines an Earth ruined by climate change, and a man all alone with his robot pals. 4 out of 5 film-authority.com/2026/06/03/s...

In the water of the lake, a body floating. In the walls of the old bakery, a mummified cat. In the pub at noon, idle chatter about both. For this is England where strange links and wrong-headed priorities are as common as snugs and old men cadging for an extra pint. - #CLNolan

Goodnight from Penny Randal, inwardly fuming that it’s always her chosen to go into the Holcomb Woods to leave offerings to the spider-legged woman. Goodnight from Captain Madison, unsure of how much to put into his report about the incursion up at Station 16. Goodnight from Hookland.

Goodnight from the The Thorn-Crowned Witch pub, where there’s a lot of murmuring about whether the village’s peace pact with Faery will hold. Goodnight from Kate Shaw, sleeping with ash leaves under her pillow in hope of prophetic dreams of exam papers. Goodnight from Hookland.

As Hookland is occasionally sweary and most definitely mentions words like Hell on a regular basis, you may want to enable the adult content filters on Bluesky as the county is definitely going to be on the new naughty step.

A book-club of which I'm a member did Nineteen Eighty-Four last year. I was the only one who'd first read it when 1984 counted as the future. Sigh.

I don't think we'll need to worry about AI until the I stands for Intelligence.

Meet the new boss; same as the old boss. A story as old as time.

Long Distance Runaround

Mark Twain was born in a year when Halley's Comet appeared and, as he predicted, died the year it returned.

I used to be one of those witches who tidied away certain items before non-pagan friends came round. I've grown out of such nonsense. Our magic is in our relationships, including those of our tools. It is a duty to be proud of such things. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkwitchFriday

They say Mother Thel had a tongue made of thorns. They say she could tap her fingers against any object and know who made it. They say the trees of the wood would bow as she passed. She has become immortal in the imagination in the way that only folklore bestows. – Dr. M. Benn

Good morning from Hookland.

To be clear, there is no ethical AI you can use. AI almost always means Arseholes Involved. If you are using AI/LLMs (Likely Lying Machines) to promote your work you are dead to me. Get some respect for the planet, the people whose work was stolen and the power of your own work to promote itself.

"I like those hats. I'll take a dozen."

I agree with every word but the first one.

I'm genuinely jealous of people who have like 400 books. Easy to organise, and can fit into about three bookcases, which in turn can fit in the same room.

Goodnight from David Mason, working out how much he can win at Brighthaven Casino before its bosses discover he’s using his psychic powers. Goodnight from Raven Butcher, trying to remember all of the moves in the dance said to summon the Blood Maiden. Goodnight from Hookland.

I look up at transmission towers and wish for The Hum again. I miss connection to the electric ley of the land. I miss following the march of pylons across pathless fields, through bosky woods. Miss the strange enfoldment. – Signal-catcher Rose, ex-Child of The Hum, 1982 #VOH

Have just asked the publisher of the first Hookland booklet if they could put the following after the ISBN details: The author of the work would like to give fair warning to anyone intending to pirate this book that they will activate a curse embedded in its text if they do so.

Louis Armstrong and his All-Stars. Chicago Concert 1956.

No. That's the Luddite view. I'm all for books, bookshops and libraries, but we can't pretend that the computer/internet revolution never happened. What we need now is an informed debate on how we use them.

It’s my fundamental belief that uncommon things happen to common people. Those that investigate the paranormal and focus on the grand house, the aristocratic ghost, damage the subject. The strange surrounds us all, excluding the working class experience of it is vile and wrongheaded. –#CJosiffe