Monday, 3 March 2014

Dear God

I've got several shelves of this sort of crap; esoteric folklore, neolithic nonsense, Arthurian bollocks, mythical creatures, magick (yeah, with a kin' K), ancient religions, human sacrifice, the supernatural, naked druids, UFOs, ghosts and the paranormal, Arthur C. Clarke's crystal flippin' skull. In Search of Lost Gods is only one example but you get the gist. If you're reading this blog I suspect you probably have a similar stash yourself, lurking in an attic or spare bedroom, an embarrassing horde you can't quite bear to part with, an eternal flame of adolescent desire for hidden knowledge.

I still can't pass a charity shop or second hand bookstore without nipping in for a quick browse, and I invariably come out with some dogeared rubbish like this. I don't even hope for revelation of forgotten wisdom any more. It's simply become habit.

Yes, I do occasionally consider getting rid of them. But every so often I pass the shelves and run my finger along the dusty spines until something catches my eye, pull a book out and I'm sucked in again, just like the first time.

Mounds & Circles has been like a two year therapy session, a 12-step programme for esoteric smutty librophiliacs. Not rehab, not the cure. It's an addiction that I have to manage. My blogging buddies have helped me come to terms with it and now I'm on my own. Wish me luck.

Bradford. Home of the Angry Birds pigs.

Real newspapermen.

The art of stipple illustration, a folklore standard.


  1. "A spell composed by a wise man in Cardiganshire" = genius.
    The caption doesn't give a year, but it would please me if it dated from about 1974.

  2. Being a Yank, I yearn for such books!