Maisy has been banned from the chained Lower Library in Weychester Cathedral. She asked the librarian if the ghosts enjoyed ratting the chains and he said no. She called him a liar. A bit of a scene erupted. I backed the librarian which means I'm now on the shitlist. – #MattAdams

Hooklanders talk of dusk as 'hurry home'. It's an attempt to express that creeping sense of peril that comes upon you in certain places as the sun goes down. Twilight terror. Another cup of tea declined. The Highway Code ignored. The true rush hour of the county. – #MattAdams

Another day spent fruitlessly searching for the Black Library in Weychester Cathedral. Another dozen subterranean rooms visited, but no new clues. It remains firmly occulted. Remains legendary, an engine of the imagination. – #MattAdams

Some gates make you wary of climbing over or opening them. You have this weird sense that crossing their threshold will deliver you somewhere else. Faery or some parallel dimension that is simultaneously familiar yet alien. My danger radar is weak, but not that weak. – #MattAdams

Sometimes you come across a wall that you just know leaks ghosts. A wall that functions as pareidolia trap. See a face, focus on a phantom in the chaos and you will summon it. I've discovered it is really best to not look at them too closely or too long. – #MattAdams, 1982

Even at the edge of Ashcourt's 'Water Warren', rumours clog the canal, turn it into a furred vein of trauma. People listen for the tinkling of Blackwater John's sinister necklace of bottled souls, talk of odd, unboated knocks at windows and doors of homes facing onto the cut. – #MattAdams, 1981

I've discovered another Hookland dialect word I like: wudlec – the rightful respect the woods deserve. It implies a regard for more than paths. I discovered the word after being accused of being: "A wudlec free zone. A guaranteed future search and rescue." – #MattAdams, 1982 #WOTD

There was a rumour that the Government used to monitor all those stone and wooden sleepers for signs of omenic twitching. If the Department Recording And Measuring Anomalous Statues (DRAMAS), existed once, there’s no official record of it now. – #MattAdams

One piece of folklore I refuse to believe in is the waking of England's stone and wooden nights when the country is in peril. We keep lurching right, we keep lurching toward authoritarianism and they don't even show any signs of twitching. – #MattAdams, 1982

I've discovered a Hookland dialect word I'm sure is going to be useful: Beambefar – the surprise which may await behind a tree or may emanate from a tree. That surprise might be a Woodwose or a Wood Sprite or it might be something much more peculiar. – #MattAdams, 1982

Today is a good day for lying back in a dolmen and letting the land dream itself into me. A good day for letting the dead of this tomb whisper against the sun, the turning of the year. St. Monday absenteeism to heal a bruised heart, to re-enchant my tomorrows. – #MattAdams