The Hum was a singing of the wires. The Hum was a telling of the land's electric ley in drone and buzz. The Hum was our conversation with wonder. How could we not walk below it? How could we not be pilgrims of the pylons? – Trippy Pete, ex=Pylon Person #VOH

The tower blocks the council put up in the 1960s only took a decade till they were so haunted, no-one wanted to live in them. It weren't just the broken lifts, the smell of piss in the stairwells, it was the ghosts that did for people. Spirits turned mean by the towers' design. Liv Green #VOH

Bloody kids of today. They aren't satisfied with manglewurzels or turnips for their Haggedy-Raggedy lanterns. Oh no, they want something non-traditional, something a bit different. Something a bit too bloody orange if you ask me. The spirits won't like it. – Sam Buckle, 1982 #VOH

There's a type of red clay soil you find on some parts of the county's western border. People call it 'Hookland Red'. It used to be said witches would come from the other side of the county to collect it because it had 'special properties'. I just reckon it's good for growing. – Tom Rudd #VOH

We were pylon pilgrims. Each transmission tower a sacred destination in the electric ley of the land. The Hum called us to walk to them, to move under their steel legs and into our temporary temples. We marched lines of electrical ecstasy. – Tattoo Labyrinth Dave #VOH

Priests think they know everything. We all told the vicar only ill could come from exposing the old Doom painting in the church. If the Guflobem comes out of the wall and devours him, it will be his own fault. Things are covered up for a purpose. He ought to know that. – Amy Scurfield #VOH

I've come across a new skipping rhyme in the playground:

I know where the Growling Trees are
Are they near? Are they far?
I know where the Wailing Ghosts are
Are they trapped in soul jar?
Beat them, beat them with an iron bar

Even by school standards, it's a little creepy. – Joanna Vickers #VOH

You can't explain it, but sometimes you feel summoned by places. They call you to walk them. It's almost as if that act of walking makes you part of their story and they want that. You can call me mad, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this. – Bec Bowker, 1982 #VOH

They called us Pylon People, Pylon Pilgrims. We called ourselves Children of The Hum. They called the transmission towers we marched to 'totems'. We didn't. What nonsense. We called them temporary temples, guardians of the electric ley of the land. – Signal-catcher Rose #VOH