things are remembered differently
As late as the early 20th century, there were 14 spots on the River Tarrant where Stay Belows were recorded by a coroner’s jury as having been involved in drownings. https://t.co/ZvRUiOSLOB
As late as the early 20th century, there were 14 spots on the River Tarrant where Stay Belows were recorded by a coroner's jury as having been involved in drownings. pic.twitter.com/ZvRUiOSLOB
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) June 9, 2020
@ryanliveson @andypaciorekart That’s the ticket.
That's the ticket.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) June 9, 2020
@GroupHookland @ryanliveson @andypaciorekart No. We all know enough folklore to know it never ends well for the troll hunter.
No. We all know enough folklore to know it never ends well for the troll hunter.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) June 9, 2020
@ryanliveson @GroupHookland @andypaciorekart I think I have found a way of doing a found footage Hookland film where it at least doesn’t end badly for the makers of the footage. However, it being Hookland, it of course ends badly for some.
I think I have found a way of doing a found footage Hookland film where it at least doesn't end badly for the makers of the footage. However, it being Hookland, it of course ends badly for some.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) June 9, 2020
Tower block living. All the previously occulted angles of the streets revealed, an existence above rust fields of telegraph wires, TV ariels. This tower block living makes one a cartographer of hidden design. – Jack Û÷The FinderÛª Smith, spiv magician
Tower block living. All the previously occulted angles of the streets revealed, an existence above rust fields of telegraph wires, TV ariels. This tower block living makes one a cartographer of hidden design. – Jack ‘The Finder’ Smith, spiv magician
— ReptonGuide (@ReptonGuide) May 8, 2020
The narrative arc in certain Repton pubs remains as ritual, as long-held tradition. Fierce glances; some physical contact on the way to the gents; the catchphrase of: ÛÏWhat did you say? What did you fucking say?Û; punches; blood and beer upon the table. – Paul Cowan, 1979
The narrative arc in certain Repton pubs remains as ritual, as long-held tradition. Fierce glances; some physical contact on the way to the gents; the catchphrase of: “What did you say? What did you fucking say?”; punches; blood and beer upon the table. – Paul Cowan, 1979
— ReptonGuide (@ReptonGuide) May 8, 2020
The cacophony of the city is a crash of hidden languages. Jostle and empty apologies of pavement mix with gargoyle chattering above. Hidden stop-start morse of pedestrian crossings, gurgle deep below of lost brooks – these are all the city talking. – Jack Smith, spiv magician
The cacophony of the city is a crash of hidden languages. Jostle and empty apologies of pavement mix with gargoyle chattering above. Hidden stop-start morse of pedestrian crossings, gurgle deep below of lost brooks – these are all the city talking. – Jack Smith, spiv magician
— ReptonGuide (@ReptonGuide) May 9, 2020
If there are UFOs Nokes, I donÛªt believe they are tourists doing the package cruise of Skarreg B, Cygnus X and Earth. I donÛªt think anyone comes to this bit of the galaxy for hot shits and giggles. – #DICallaghan
If there are UFOs Nokes, I don’t believe they are tourists doing the package cruise of Skarreg B, Cygnus X and Earth. I don’t think anyone comes to this bit of the galaxy for hot shits and giggles. – #DICallaghan
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) May 8, 2020
The old asylum, long-emptied, existing as decay awaiting demolition or council reprieve. Yet, reports. Phantom heads at frosted windows. Figured shuffling beyond the rust-locked gates. Rumours that spill out with beer in nearby pubs. – #MattAdams, 1981
The old asylum, long-emptied, existing as decay awaiting demolition or council reprieve. Yet, reports. Phantom heads at frosted windows. Figured shuffling beyond the rust-locked gates. Rumours that spill out with beer in nearby pubs. – #MattAdams, 1981
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) May 8, 2020
@spaceweather9 To be honest, round my way where signs for FUCK BORIS and TORY = DEATH have gone up on the railway bridges, the clap is increasingly thin.
To be honest, round my way where signs for FUCK BORIS and TORY = DEATH have gone up on the railway bridges, the clap is increasingly thin.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) May 8, 2020