Tag Archives: myths & legends

The Art of Nordic Folklore: Jørgen Bech Pedersen

After our recent South American adventure, we lurch surprisingly north. Come with us now to Scandinavia and see the work of Danish artist, Jørgen Bech Pedersen, who produces terrific interpretations of those dark creatures which skulk in Nordic folk-lore.

greydog’s own introduction to Nordic folklore, decades ago, was through many un-related sources: the Marvel Thor comics (not always accurate, funnily enough), bits of Alan Garner‘s Weirdstone of Brisingamen, and Jacqueline Simpson‘s marvellous book Icelandic Folktales and Legends.

4921494
our ancient copy

Living in a small community by the North Sea, we had a natural feel for those stories. Seal rocks at the bottom of the cliffs – were those really only seals down there? And what actually came in with the sea-frets which washed over the fields? Our ruined chalk farmhouses weren’t so far from those of folklore books, after all.

When we moved inland, years later, other Yorkshire folk would say that our accent was half Danish. So it was a pleasure to discover the work of ‘Bech‘, who agreed to be interviewed for this very programme (all paintings/drawings should be clickable for a larger version, by the way)

Bech

greydog: Welcome to greydogtales, Jørgen – you are our first Scandinavian guest! We initially noticed your work on-line through your bestiary of troldfolk. Is your involvement in folklore a recent thing, or something from your youth?

jørgen: My fascination with folklore is a recent thing that started about 8 years ago. But I guess it really began in my childhood as a fascination for fantasy and fairy tales. At some point I discovered Dungeons & Dragons which further sparked my fascination. But I was aware of the difference between the elves depicted in popular culture and the ones I’d heard about in folk tales. I remember always wondering : why do Danish elves have a hollow back? I had also heard H C Andersen’s fairy tale The Elfin Hill in which the hill opens up and the elves pour out of it. But how?

These questions stayed in my mind for a long time until, at one point, I sat down to figure out the secret behind hollow elves and elven mounds that rise up on four glowing pillars of fire. Once I started reading folk tales, I was hooked. Luckily, I work in a library that keeps a nice section on folklore. When I started digging, I found more and more literature in our archives. I noticed that the majority of literature was quite old. Furthermore I found that folklore illustration was often put together from serveral artists and therefore inconsistent in style and expression. These things gave me an idea to make a bestiary and illustrate all the creatures myself.

vildejaeger-bech
vildejaeger, bech

greydog: Is there much interest in Danish folklore in Denmark itself?

jørgen: Not in general. There’s been a handful of new fantasy books that focus on folklore and we have seen a couple of small scale Nordic movies that deal with the subject (Huldra – Lady of the Forest and Troll Hunter)

elf_bech
elf, bech

greydog: The Troll Hunter film is superb, and most unusual in its take on the subject. One of greydog‘s fiction projects for 2016/17, The Children of Angles and Corners, is about the re-emergence of huldrefolk or huldufolk. Tell us something about the nature of troldfolk, as depicted in your art.

jørgen: When I made troldfolk.dk, I set out to make a bestiary, or field guide, to all of the folklore creatures of Denmark. What that means is describing the traits and abilities of each creature – their nature, if you will. That was a hard job, because the literary sources don’t classify each type of creature very consistently. Furthermore, to visualize my bestiary, I also had to bring each creature out into the open and draw them top to bottom on a blank background. Again the sources aren´t very helpful. Details are sparse and inconsistent. So again I had to try and capture their look and draw each creature my own way. The field guide therefore, presents over two dozen Scandinavian folklore creatures, that are each cleary documented and visualized. In that way it can be useful as a tool for fiction writers or for implementing these creatures in roleplaying games or computer games.

Choosing this perspective for troldfolk.dk also meant that you lose some of the original mystery concering trolls and fairies the way they were traditionally perceived. Don´t forget that these creatures were very real to farmers in the 19th century. Not just children but grown ups actually believed in brownies, ghosts and elves. Traditionally, there are some general traits about their nature. They were most often perceived as dangerous and something you should avoid dealing with. Elven maids look beautiful. They dance and sing in the fields at night, but if you join their dance, you may die. Other folklore creatures are benign or even helpful if you treat them right. Some of them are mortal and they grow old and die like normal people. Other creatures are more similar to ghosts and the undead.

drage-bech
drage, bech

greydog: You told us recently that you have been looking into British folklore as well. What areas interest you?

jørgen: I want to look more into the differences and similarities between the fairy world of the British Isles and Scandinavia. When I set out to study folklore, I thought the Danish creatures would be very unique to Denmark. That wasn´t the case. Folklore is subject to cultural exchange across borders. Just look at dragons. But especially I want to learn more about the British tradition of the fairy court. One of the things that fascinate me about British fairy lore is the strong ties between the fairy realm and human souls and the afterlife. I belive that idea is far more widespread in your area.

troll-bech
troll, bech

greydog: Your fabulous illustrations are how we spotted you. Which artists do you feel have influenced your style?

jørgen: I have a lot of influences of course. I´m very fascinated by the old Nordic illustrators of the 18th century. They really conceptualized the look of the Nordic trolls and their style is carried on today. Look at Theodor Kittelsen or John Baur. Modern inspiration inclues Brian Froud, Iain Mccaig, Tony Diterlizzi, Paul Bonner and Justin Sweet. Hmm, I could go on. Must make a list on my website.

Bech_bragist_DA
bragist, bech

greydog: And although we know a couple of those, including Brian Froud, we must look some of the others up. Could tell us a little about your painting techniques?

jørgen: The illustations for troldfolk.dk are all hand drawn and colored digitally. Recently I chose to work in traditional media again and I use ink, watercolor, guache and acrylics. I´m really not set on a specific style. I like to try out new materials and styles. Just take a look at bechart.dk

bechtreemansmall
treeman, bech

greydog: We know that you accept commissions. Do you have serious commercial ambitions for your artwork, such as a printed bestiary, or is it mostly for your own pleasure?

jørgen: For me art is first and foremost a pleasure but I’m also dead serious about it. I accept commissions that I feel are in tune with what I want to do. Originally I wanted to make a book, but I decided to make a website to reach a broader audience. My goal has always been to inspire people to learn about Nordic folklore and to that purpose a website is more useful. However, I´m still planning to supplement the website with a printed book at some point. This will include a lot more illustrations of each creature and hopefully show them in their proper surroundings.

lygtemand-bech
lygtemand, bech

greydog: Folklore is a major source for fantasy literature. Do you read fantasy or weird fiction yourself?

jørgen: Even though I´m a librarian, I don’t read a lot. I use most of my spare time drawing and when I do read, it´s mostly non-fiction, folklore sources or sometimes a piece of classic literature. I read slowly, so I have to be picky. I do enjoy fantasy a lot and I´ve read Tolkien, the Dragonlance saga, Beowulf, but also a lot of Poe and I´m fascinated by Lovecraft’s dark universe.

61dce34d3f-Bech_ringwraith_sepia
ringwraith, bech

greydog: Good man! One question out of curiosity – in recent years, Scandinavia has become renowned for what many call ‘Nordic noir‘, in books and films. Denmark is often thrown in with Norway, Sweden and Iceland, as if they were similar. Is this fair?

jørgen: I’m not bothered by it. There’s a Nordic kinship that I appreciate. I dont feel Danish identity is in any way threatened by this generalization.

bækhest_bech
baekhest, bech

greydog: And finally, any plans for your art in the New Year? More bestiary entries, or something new?

jørgen: I’m hired in to do some concept art for a game production and that will probably keep me busy for a while. Can´t tell you anything about it yet, though. Besides that my plan is to do a lot of art, prepare exhibitions and try and sell some 🙂

Bech-Robot-col-TB
robot, bech

greydog: We wish you much luck with that and thank you, Jørgen Bech Pedersen. As mentioned, you can find the Bech Bestiary here:

troldfolk

For each illustration in the bestiary, there is also a text piece which is well worth reading. Don’t be put off if you don’t speak Danske – we merely copied the text and pasted it into the google on-line Danish to English translator. It’s not perfect, but there’s lots of great information there. And Bech’s art in general is on-line here:

bech art

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That’s probably the last of our ‘Weird Art’ theme for 2015, but it will return next year. Do keep tuning in – greydogtales continues over the festive season, thought perhaps in a slightly more random “surely I didn’t drink all that brandy” manner…

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The Hell Horse and the Autumn Boy

The First Reading

His hands are old, his fingers older.

They reach into other years, with their walnut joints and yellow nails, and draw out the Deck of Seasons. As steady as they have always been, they remove the deck from its box of polished yew, and cut the cards, just once.

He lays the initial card upon the kitchen table, between the ashtray and the butter. A single shred of marmalade clings to the edge of the butter, burnt gold on a pale field.

The Hive. Many minds, a single thought. The card is not a threat, not in itself.

The second card, placed carefully next to the tomato ketchup, is the Bright Spear. Merciless intent. He is not surprised. It is one of the cards most coveted by the Children of Angles and Corners.

His blue-tinged lips tighten, and he glances at the sleeping dog, who snores and kicks, lost in dreams of small things which she will never catch. The joy of the chase, and the approval of others. His face relaxes, and he places the third card.

The Stone. Unwelcoming, resistant to change. It is the nature of those who are coming, after all.

He rolls a cigarette, because he still can, and places it neatly on top of the three he has already rolled this morning. The ritual matters, even though he no longer smokes. And there is a thought crouching between ragged eyebrows.

Might the card mean his own kind as well?

This is the moment of hesitation, the completion of the initial spread. The fourth card will be a charm, and show what is to come. His fingers reach into the deck without conscious thought. The card is found, turned, and placed next to the congealed egg of yesterday’s breakfast…

The Autumn Boy.

He sighs, sits back and nods his head. The weakest of the ruling cards in the Deck of Seasons. Unless you really understand the world.

Which he does.

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We’re feeling into the northern folk-horror world today (which happens surprisingly often). Hence the extract above from The Children of Angles and Corners, which may be coming from greydog next year if he writes faster. It’s a project based on the re-emergence of the huldrefolk and other things of the past, once thought extinguished by the new religions, as the land grows cold…

As a writer (I love saying that. It’s like saying ‘as a man with a beard’, or ‘as an enthusiast of pork pies’) I have trouble with the fact that more than half of my stories do not fit anyone’s submission requirements. Or the other way round. As a man with no money, I tend to follow the requirements when I can. The huldrefolk stories are not on anyone’s buying list, but I might just hack my way through anyway. What’s three or four months of my life with no paying contracts, hey? I like ‘past-its-use-by-date’ value corned beef, really I do. Those bacteria are full of protein, aren’t they?

Hang on, I think we were blogging. Yes, so after our tripod-based last episode, we got rather carried away and wanted to write all about the Chinese Three-legged Crow, the lucky Three-legged Toad, and why the Isle of Man is such an odd place. But we haven’t (we’ll save them for another time). Art is cool with greydogtales at the moment, and so we settled for an illustration of the Helhest, the three-legged hell horse of Scandinavian lore.

8195e071cc-Bech_Helhesten_troldfolk
by bech

The helhest is said to be associated with death and sickness. Some say that if its presence signifies death, then it appears as a black beast; if it signifies disease, then it appears white. A haunter of graveyards, the helhest legend may be based on the old custom of burying a horse in a new graveyard, the helhest being the manifestation of the sacrificed horse.

This horse’s ghost is called the ‘Helhest’. If anyone meets it, it is a sign to him of an early death. It is a tradition of the cathedral at Aarhus, that such a horse is occasionally seen there…

A Danish Parsonage, J F Vicary, 1884

helhest_and_crow_by_piasdatter-d4b3e13
by piasdatter

The helhest is also associated, naturally, with Hel or Hela, the Norse Goddess of the Underworld, and in some stories is the beast she rides. Why it is three-legged we have no idea. Hel herself is one of Loki‘s children, along with the wolf Fenrir and the world-serpent Jormungandr. She is usually referred to as appearing discoloured on one side of her face and body, tinged with the blacks and blues of death and decay, and quite normal on the other.

This tends be portrayed rather less ickily by illustrators, who either miss out the rotting bits or depict her as skeletal on the decayed side. My own first introduction to Hel was through Marvel Comics and her appearances in Thor, where she was a mysterious figure clad in green and black.

helanewmutants
new mutants #29

And rather cool with it. It’s quite tragic what a teenage boy can find exciting. But here’s a more recent version:

by sfhd
by sfhd

Back to the hell horse. The first painting of the helhest at the start of the article comes from the site of the talented Jørgen Bech Pedersen, a self-taught Danish artist who produces wonderful renditions of figures from Nordic folk-lore. We shall try to get him on greydogtales if we can.

237a90a521-Bech_mermaid_troldfolk
by bech

His site Troldfolk is an illustrated bestiary of such beings, and we recommend a visit. The text is in Danish, but the pictures aren’t:

troldfolk

The second helhest is by piasdattir on deviantart, to be found here:

piasdattir

All art copyright belongs to their creators, as usual.

You know that we at greydogtales like to add the odd soundwave to our posts wherever possible. So, if you’re into pagan power metal, then you really should check out Fimbulvet, a European group who slam out some heavy pagan tunes. Rather conveniently, they have recorded a track called, yes, Helhest:

Given that in some legends the barghest (see Game of Groans & Clanking Chains) is also a denizen of cemeteries and a beast of ill omen, it makes us wonder if there is any common root that connects helhest and barghest.

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fhr1a

You may remember that we mentioned Andy Paciorek’s excellent illustrations a couple of weeks ago, as part of our weird art celebration. It’s worth adding that he has now finished compiling the book Folk-Horror Revival: Field Studies, and it’s available to buy. We quote:

500 pages. Illustrated throughout including artwork by Alan Lee, Paul Rumsey, Julia Jeffrey, Morgaine Art, GB. Jones and Andy Paciorek. Featuring essays and interviews by many great cinematic, musical, artistic and literary talents, Folk Horror Revival: Field Studies is the most comprehensive and engaging exploration to date of the sub genre of Folk Horror and associated fields in cinema, television, music, art, culture and folklore. Includes contributions by Kim Newman, Robin Hardy, Thomas Ligotti, Philip Pullman, Gary Lachman, Jim Moon, English Heretic, The Hare and the Moon and many many more.

100% of all profits from sales of the book will be charitably donated to environmental, wildlife and community projects undertaken by The Wildlife Trusts.

It’s available now from lulu.com

We’re grimmed out. We have some glorious longdog pictures to come next time. Also, our interview with artist and illustrator M Wayne Miller is back from the cleaners, and should be ready soon, along with many other fine pieces.  Do join us, dear listeners, in a few days…

 

 

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Three Wyrd Hounds

Still playing around with hounds, horror and art. Further to last week’s post, the greatest horror at the moment is looking at the back garden and seeing what a combination of three dogs and four days of rain have produced.

A waterlogged medieval cart-track wanders down the centre of the ex-lawn, leading to a wet pit which was the pond. Despite having tied the pond marginals in with stakes and wire, Django has managed to drown most of them. After that, the autumn fall of sweet chestnuts still too small to eat has produced the effect of hundreds of little mines floating on top of the drowned plants. I keep expecting to see tiny submarine periscopes popping up.

And Django’s mound, the earth he dug up to sleep on in the summer, is a mudslide waiting to happen. Soon a TV network reporter will be found strolling through the garden, camera crew behind her. “This once proud land, now reduced to…”

Now, proper stuff. In Carnacki news today, greydogtales celebrated William Hope Hodgson for a month and forgot to mention Carnacki’s appearance in Alan Moore‘s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. So we rectify that with an illo from the graphic novel Century: 1910.

leagueofgents03

Another snippet: we hear that Big Finish productions are adding Carnacki to their large audio range, with anticipated release of six of the original stories in one bumper audiobook, early next year. With a little luck, we hope to have a full feature on greydogtales before release date.

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Our theme picture for today comes courtesy of Andy Paciorek, a graphic artist who draws much of his inspiration from folklore and myths. Andy is a major source of folklore and folk-horror information and is a leading light in the Folk Horror Revival group on facebook, a lively group well worth a visit. He’s illustrated many books as well as his own, and does some terrific artwork. Here’s a sample:

c. andy paciorek

Andy also did the interior art for Cumbrian Cthulhu:

cumbrian1

You can find out more about Andy Paciorek’s latest book, Strange Lands, through the link below the cover.

strangelandsstrange lands

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Because we like to be inspirational grasshoppers when we’re not being longdogs, we’ve picked three examples of hounds from weird/fantasy fiction to have a brief play in the wasteland.

The most weird and horrific are, of course, not dogs at all – they’re the Hounds of Tindalos. See, we cheated. They first appeared in 1929 in Frank Belknap Long‘s story (guess), The Hounds of Tindalos.

“They are lean and athirst!” he shrieked… “All the evil in the universe was concentrated in their lean, hungry bodies. Or had they bodies? I saw them only for a moment, I cannot be certain.”

Hounds_of_tindalosHannesBok
hannes bok

To some extent these beasts are an artist’s dream, because no-one has really worked out what they look like. As extra-dimensional creatures of Lovecraftian nature, they inhabit different geometries, and no humans who meet them survive long enough to give a proper description. Some suggest that they are more insectoid, but to be honest if you drew a flower-pot with a long tongue, you couldn’t be told that you were wrong. Still, the general impression is of something thin and twisting and very hungry.

August Derleth, a great chap for trying to take anything vaguely Cthulhoid and nail it to a single plank, incorporated the Hounds of Tindalos into his Cthulhu Mythos. Though, if you want to be fair to Derleth, H P Lovecraft himself did mention them in his The Whisperer in Darkness two years later:

“…and I was told the essence (though not the source) of the Hounds of Tindalos.”

They were also resurrected by Brian Lumley in order they could hunt down Titus Crow and Henri-Laurent de Marigny. The first hunt is in his book The Transition of Titus Crow, the second in Elysia. We have to admit that we can’t get over-excited about Elysia, because it drags our occult detective into HPL’s Dreamscape (or Dream Cycle), which is less involving than Crow solving earth-based occult mysteries. Neither books are frankly as much fun as The Burrowers Beneath, which we read whenever we hear of an earthquake somewhere…

(The Hounds of Tindalos is also the title of Long’s 1946 collection of weird stories, originally published by Arkham House.)

Stephen Erikson deserves a mention because of his Hounds of Shadow, from the Malazan Book of the Fallen series. Despite being an increasingly complicated set of door-stops, this massive series does have some wonderful elements. We actually like Erikson’s work a lot, but haven’t the energy to keep up with it, so it’s our fault really.

The Hounds of Shadow are actual hounds this time, the servants of High House Shadow. They are large, more the size of a small horse than a dog, with mottled grey/black fur and gleaming eyes. They are also better muscled than Charles Atlas (get grandma to explain that one).

“There was around each beast an aura of dreadful competence, wrought with vast antiquity like threads of iron.”

They sound much like many interpretations of our beloved Yorkshire black hound, the barghest – see earlier post  game of groans & clanking chains . This observation is only confused by Erikson’s use of the term barghast to describe a race of pre- or neanderthalian humans with rather sharp teeth themselves.

houndsmorrigan

And finally, very briefly, to our favourites, the Hounds of the Morrigan. Featuring in that wonderful 1985 novel of the same name by the late Pat O’Shea, they serve, unsurprisingly, the Morrigan. We love the simplicity of that. The hounds themselves are actually quite likeable, considering that they serve the Witch-Queen, and in the end we felt rather sorry for them. An infinitely re-readable book supposedly aimed at children or young adults, it takes fantasy further than many adult books in the genre. With likeable characters and a fabulous re-writing of Celtic legends, we give this five paws (sorry, stars).

Next time: Heaven knows. I’m busy collating art and interviews…

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Game of Groans and Clanking Chains

Q. What’s huge and black with eyes like burning coals, its slavering jaws opening wide to engulf its victims? A. I don’t know, but there’s one right behind you… argghhhh! Creepy autumn is on its way, so it’s time to introduce some of the Other Dogs. These are the ones you’d never let play ‘bitey face’, the spectral hounds of the North.

Yorkshire has a solid history of terrifying, dog-like creatures roaming its moors and alleys, and not all of them are politicians. The best known of our monstrous brood is perhaps the barghest. If it’s new to you, the barghest is a huge intelligent dog, dark and somewhat wolf-like in appearance, with piercing eyes and a penchant for haunting lonely places. Yes, we were there long before Game of Thrones and its dire-wolves (although at least Sean Bean is a child of God’s Own Country). No-one knows exactly where the name comes from, because there are too many possible roots. Bier-geist, as in a spirit of the funeral bier, is one; burgh-ghost is another, as in a spirit which troubles a town. The name is particularly common in North Yorkshire – haunted Whitby is supposed to have a barghest – but for variants in other parts see later below.

padfootThe barghest is associated with death in one form or another. It may come when a death is due, or when a death has occurred, its slinking black body a warning to the living. It may be seen only by the doomed or sick person, or it may be spotted lying on the threshold of someone due to expire. Its presence is often heralded by the clanking of unseen chains. Occasionally the barghest makes its own arrangements for death by hunting down appropriate targets and consuming them. Lonely travellers are a popular choice, and to be fair to the barghest, this does avoid hanging around waiting for someone to get the sniffles.

Some suggest that the dog in folklore is associated with scavenging, and with digging up bones from graveyards, hence the morbid links with the barghest. There is in fact one particularly relevant counterpart to Yorkshire’s barghest in Normandy and the Channel Islands, the rongeur d’os (gnawer of bones), a large phantom dog of death which again rattles its chain in the night.

(Our own gaunt black hound, Chilli, appears spookily out of nowhere, but that tends to be when walkies are due, or when we’ve settled down comfortably and really need a terrifying creature shoving her elbows into our faces to round off the evening.)

One of the most famous barghests is that which haunts Trollers Gill, a moody limestone gorge in the Yorkshire Dales, closely followed by the one which creeps into the snickelways of the city of York and takes down unwary folk. Presumably the latter one lives on a diet of squishy tourists and crunchy cameras. Having tramped Trollers Gill and York many times, I’m afraid (or relieved) to say that I’ve never encountered a barghest in either locale. Trollers Gill early in the morning, or at dusk, is certainly atmospheric enough to host a barghest or two.

trollers-gill7Trollers Gill, rather wetter than usual

The barghest has its literary fans – it crops up in, amongst others, Robin Jarvis (The Whitby Witches), Roald Dahl (The Witches) and Neil Gaiman’s short story Black Dog apparently (but I haven’t read the last one, so I can’t be more precise).

Legends of black dogs and spectral hounds abound up here. Another name, or variant, is the pad-foot, seen in the West Riding around Leeds, Bradford and other modest settlements. The pad-foot can be heard behind you, pad pad pad, sometimes followed by a clank of chains and then the sight of a large baleful dog. Better not to turn round, they say, but to leg it home. The pad-foot is alternatively known as the gytrash or guytrash (not to be confused with guy-trash, the general rubbish left behind by passing men). The gytrash also crops up in literature – it’s mentioned in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, one of my favourite books from school for some reason. Must have been the gothicky bits, moody Rochester and the mad-woman in the attic.

“I remembered certain of Bessie’s tales, wherein figured a North-of-England spirit called a ‘Gytrash,’ which, in the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon belated travelers, as this horse was now coming upon me.

“It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to the tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees.”

Rather disappointingly, this apparition turned out to be nothing more than Mr. Rochester’s dog.

I use the word ‘dog’ to describe these creatures, but as in Bronte, many of the stories suggest that the barghest, pad-foot or gytrash can take other shapes at will. It can appear as a dark shaggy bear, or a horse-like thing with the same burning eyes, and even as a headless human in some tales. Where the red eyes go in that case is open to conjecture.

We also have the legend of the gabble-ratchets, otherwise known as Gabriel Hounds, in Yorkshire. These are usually heard rather than seen, a howling that passes above and around you. Some connect them to the North European Wild Hunt, others to the concept of Gabriel, the angel who acts as the Messenger of God. The message sent by the gabble-ratchets is not usually a positive one, as again it’s a portent of imminent death. The alternative is that the sound of these terrible beasts is actually that of migrating geese, but that sounds much less likely than an archangels’ attendant pack of hounds riding the storm, doesn’t it?

If you like odd connections, as I do, then you might want to know that the 1972 Genesis album Foxtrot has a long, bizarre track called Supper’s Ready, which includes a section entitled thus: Apocalypse in 9/8 (Co-Starring the Delicious Talents of Gabble Ratchet). Peter ‘Non-Archangel’ Gabriel’s work, of course…

And yes, related legends do exist in other counties of England, but I’m prejudiced and this is my blog, so I don’t want any grumpy Lancastrians writing in and complaining. As a barghest would say, after you’ve eaten a few white roses, you just can’t go back.

So, we return to semi-reality. There’ll be one more general post here before the October horror-fest, so do call in during the month of mellow fruitfulness, even if it’s only to count how many bizarre punctuation mistakes I make and to complain about the lack of lurcher-related stuff for a while.

Dear Sir. I must protest in the strongest manner about a so-called ‘blog’ on ‘literature, lurchers and life’ which interrupts my canine fun to publish four weeks of arrant nonsense about horror and life after death.

Yrs, Major Cornelius Hetherington Smythe (deceased).

Goodnight, and don’t let the barghest bite.

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