droll-teller

[droll-teller]

Tormented by love. A legend of Camelot. 1898.

Getty Research Institute via the Internet Archive

From a book uploaded by gridigitalservices

[droll-teller]

'Τhe Moon's Garden' by Bill Crisafi

[droll-teller]

From the top of Scotland to the lowest point of Cornwall aligns roughly with the distance from Detroit to Atlanta — about 800 miles, or an 11-hour drive. At its widest, a bit north of London and Cardiff, Britain is 300 across — my grueling bus journey home from GenCon in Indianapolis to Newark last year was 700 miles, 2.3 times the width of the UK. There is nowhere in the country where you can stand and be more than 75 miles from the ocean. We have an excess of space in America, true, but to me, the density of stuff in the UK, relative to the amount of undeveloped land seems mind-bogglingly high.

Oh, by stuff, I mean the sort of things that might be collected in Folklore, Myths and Legends of Britain (originally 1973, this is the 1977 revised edition), a landmark, 550-page book from Reader’s Digest, of all places. I don’t even know what to call it. An encyclopedia? Guide book? Codex? It’s all those and more, really, and contains a density of information that is maybe impossible to fully parse — I have trouble just counting up the number of contributing authors. I’ve been reading it for three years now and I feel like I’ve barely made a dent.

There are detailed within: holy wells, strange creatures (Black Shuck is in here, though they missed the nuckelavee, alas), seemingly every guiser imaginable, notable trees, witches, assassins, stone circles (of course), haunted houses, tragic tales, plenty of Arthurian hangovers. There are maps with intriguing icons, detailing every corner of the countries. There’s so much art, many historical pieces, but a number of strange new illustrations as well. It’s a treasure trove.

The story behind cover illustration, I think, neatly encapsulates the many strange wonders inside. That’s a stylized drawing of the Dorset Ooser. The book claims it might represent a remnant of worship of the Horned God (unlikely) and that every village in Dorset might have had a similar mask, which was used in parade during the Christmas season and possibly to shame adulterers. But even that isn’t a certainty. There are only two photographs of the mask (it’s hollow inside and could be worn, the jaw hinged, but no eye-holes, so the wearer would have needed to be lead around and wouldn’t know who they were mocking) and sometime around 1900 the thing just went missing. Imagine having that thing laying around and A. Not really knowing what it was for and B. Eventually misplacing it!

[droll-teller]

daily affirmations

i am the unkillable faggot

i can exist in grocery stores

i have the shittiest music taste in any room

i have a gun

[droll-teller]

The Selkie and Her Family

[droll-teller]

He's been at that table for two hours

[droll-teller]

Hoard of Celtic gold coins in a cow bone, uncovered near Sedgeford, England, 1st century AD

from The Norfolk Museums Collections

[droll-teller]

beach souvenirs

[droll-teller]

Bronze statuette of a dancing satyr, Roman, 3rd-2nd century BC The House of the Faun, Pompeii Museo Archeologico Nazionale (inv. 5002)

[droll-teller]

Art by Chloe’s arts

[droll-teller]

Because Catholicism and by extension Christianity are so big and normal I don't think a lot of people consider how strange the Vatican is just conceptually. Like yeah in the capital of a long-dead empire there's an opulent temple district that acts as it's own sovereign nation, still speaking the dead language of that empire for their rituals, ruled by a prophet-king chosen by a secret conclave of the high priesthood. Yeah his followers eat a lot of fish in the spring.

[droll-teller]

She got a fish!!

[droll-teller]

After taking the land from the giants, Corineus, a companion of Brutus the Trojan, threw the giant warrior Goemagog, a descendant of Albina & Albion, from a high cliff after a lengthy wrestling match. Goemagog, also called Gogmagog, died shortly thereafter. Corineus is said to have given his name to the land of Cornwall.

[droll-teller]

Pwyll, a young prince of Dyfed, met Arawn, King of the otherworld Annwn, and his hounds while hunting near the river Cych. Pwyll angered Arawn by stealing a deer his hounds were eating and was made to atone by disguising himself as Arawn and defeating his rival Hafgan.

[droll-teller]

Everyone shut up and look at my ‘UK myths and legends” postcards

[droll-teller]

Happy Mermay!

[droll-teller]

The Piskie Threshers

Recorded by Robert Hunt in his 1865 book 'Popular Romances of the West Country'.

Many an industrious farmer can speak of the assistance which he has received from the piskies. Long ago, the farmer who resided at C-- [Unlegible], in going to his barn one day, was surprised by the extraordinary quantity of corn that had been threshed the previous night, as well as to discover the mysterious agency by which it was effected. His curiosity led him to enquire into the matter; so at night, when the moon was up, he crept stealthily to the barn door, and looking through a chink, saw a little fellow, clad in a tattered suit of green, wielding the dreshel [flail] with astonishing vigour, and beating the floor with blows so rapid that that eyes could not follow the motion of the instrument. The farmer slunk away unperceived and went to bed, where he lay a long while awake, thinking in what way he could best show his gratitude to the piskie for such an important service. He came to the conclusion at length, that the little fellow's clothes were getting very old and ragged, the gift of a new suit would be the proper way to lessen the obligation; and accordingly, on the morrow he had a suit of green made, of which he supposed to be of the propper size, which he carried early in the evening to the barn, and left for the piskie's acceptance. At night the farmer stole to the door again to see how his gift was taken. He was just in time to see the elf put on the suit, which was no sooner accomplished than, looking down on himself admiringly, he sung Piskie fine, and piskie gay, Piskie now will flyaway.

Absolutely love this story, firstly:

Me 🤝Robert Hunt Making increasingly erratic punctuation choices in order to keep the sentence going.

But mainly, I am constantly fascinated by the intersection of folklore and Christianity, especially in Kernow, where Methodism is so popular. From healing wells being co-opted as Holy Wells during the 4-7 CE to the enduring belief and use of charmers and healers well into the 20th century, whilst also condemning the use of 'unholy' practices.

Currently trying to make my way through The Cornish Witch Finder by Henry Paynter, which has a lot of interesting information about the practice of wise women and cunning folk, and also introduced me to the term Peller which I have tucked in my pocket for a writing project I'm ostensibly meant to be researching for. But that is neither here nor there. If anyone has any resources that pertain to Christianity and Folklore in Kernow pls shoot it my way<33