Goodnight from Jimmy Woodruff, sure he heard the rusted remains of his grandfather’s Albion Model 24 truck in the barn growl through its long-dead engine. Goodnight from Bill Wise, head buzzing with fever’s heat and visions of the silvered world of Faery. Goodnight from Hookland.

The English hold to the myth of cosy cottage. It remains the dream home of many folk who should be wiser. For the truth is the cottage is a common ghost nexus, a generator of hauntings. While spectres may take many forms, they rarely choose to be comfortable. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

That field is cursed. The hill beyond is hollow. Yonder copse is where witches meet. The hedge you can see close marks the border with Elfland. You think I'm pulling your leg, but I'm not. Just telling you the folkloric truth, for England is a patchwork of enchanments. – #CLNolan

Goodnight from Madelaine Mirfield, wondering if it’s a conspiracy by the rich that all the tools needed alchemy seem to cost so much. Goodnight from members of the TGWU at Ashcourt, refusing to work until dock crane No. 5 stops moving by itself again. Goodnight from Hookland.

We walk the wraith way, disturb clouds of chalk dust that curl into phantoms. Our feet are drumming summons to those who walked this ghost line before us. Lurching forward with coffin cart certainty, our route is ritual. Our route is marched amid a crowd of the dead. – #DAKilroy

Even with The Hum now silent, I still dream of it. I wake with an ache of absence. Look out across the fields with no wish higher than to hear the electric songlines again. To walk to the nearest pylon and fasten a prayer flag made from ribbon to it. – Tattoo Labyrinth Dave, 1982

Been walking in Hookland

Goodnight from Rosie Palmer, listening to rain drum on window and wondering if more giant three-toed footprints will be left in the lane’s morning mud. Goodnight from Harry Dove, trying to forget all the unwanted omens he saw driving home along the A3650. Goodnight from Hookland.

If I hide a reply it will be for one of two reasons. One, it’s unwanted pornography. Two, it’s someone not respecting the fourth wall. You would stand up in a cinema and shout: “I know where this was filmed!”, so please have the manners not to do it in Hookland.

Tell me again the lie that enchantment is dead. Tell me the lie that our natural state is not one of strange stories. Folklore walks, folklore dances. It is our blessing to waltz with it down the street.- Lou Kemp, 1982 #FolkloreSunday

Goodnight from Beth Comber, trying to learn a spell that will grant her the ability to speak to the seals at Havelock Head. Goodnight from Pillow Mound Farm, where calving has brought up all the old fears of Mother Silberry’s prophecy of a two-headed cow. Goodnight from Hookland.

Nothing as prosaic as an alternative explanation or recorded fact is ever going to shake the folkloric narrative that the closed-up, north door of an old church is the Devil's door. For when a story has a whiff of sulphur, it will always overpower history. – Dr. Michael Benn