Earlier this week I went to a talk given by The Emyprean - a pagan interest group in Nottingham. It was titled "Suffer Not a Witch to Live" and concerned the history of witchcraft in the Western World. It was given in the city's Theosophical hall - a solid brick municipal hall, the main chamber of which is decked out with book cases holding esoteric works. On the walls hang portraits of the likes of Helena Blavatski. Alas I had to leave part of the way through for the worst reason - I had to go and buy Easter eggs for my colleagues (a clash between the old order and the celebration of the Christian re-birth mythology).
I checked out the Gambling Lambs board game night at Nottingham's wonderful Lee Rosy cafe. I enjoyed watching a group play a title that jauntily proclaimed itself a 'paranoia-driven partly cooperative game' then joined in a very raucous and amusing round of Werewolf. The atmosphere was warm and the cafe's fair hearty so I'll definitely go back to Rosy's soon.
This little chap appeared in my front garden late in the week. He then made his way into the communal hall. I decided to help him on his journey and bring him up to my landing (complete with greeting note). Alas he has been replaced by a MASSIVE SOFA which my next-door neighbor bought in a fit of optimism only to find he can't actually fit it in his flat, so the thing remains in the corridor. Arse.
The Wiki entry for the pub Ye Olde Trip to Jerulsalem dryly reports that the establishment is one of twenty claiming to be the oldest public house in the land. "First!" or not, the place is certainly old and makes a great haunt on a cold night. The rooms are full of character and many have legends attached to them - the haunted snug, the haunted model ship, the haunted... you get the idea.
This cheeky blighter adorns my desk at work. Occasionally he whispers malevolent threats at me. I generally respond with a stern look and a proclamation that I have a great deal of work to do so can he please go and bother someone else.