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Saturday, 23 December 2023

Strange encounters on Surrey lanes

"It was true that there were fences and gates to be seen, so someone must have been by to place and repair them. However, apart from these tokens, if one faced the right direction, the land was free of life, and looked fit to remain so forever. The motorway had cut off these fields from what they had been before and turned them into obscure borderlands. Now they were visited only with difficulty, by those with strong reason to go there -- or else flotsam and jetsam of the road like me.

"I considered what strange things and evil deeds might be hidden in such a landscape - as remote and unwalked in its way as any Scottish mountain. There were great caverns of darkness amidst the trees capable of holding any enormity, just a few yards from Mr and Mrs Average, driving from normal A to normal B."
 
There is no greater author of English weird tales alive today than John Whitbourn, and "Waiting For A Bus" is perhaps the eeriest of all his short stories. It has won a slew of awards and if you read it on Christmas Eve with the lights turned low, I think you'll see why. And after that, when the goosebumps go down and you can steel yourself to get up from your chair, take a look at the rest of the Binscombe Tales series.

I'm glad to see that the Binscombe Tales are winning a whole new following in the States -- particularly in the South, perhaps because of the strong roots connecting our American cousins there to the old country. A case in point: this in-depth review by a lady in Alabama, but beware spoilers. And you should read John's own account of the landscape we love and which inspired the stories. I grew up nine miles away from Binscombe, in much the same ambience and environment, the main difference being that Binscombe admits to being overlooked by the Domesday Book whereas my own village, Mayford, lays spurious claim to a mention. (My roots there, or even in Surrey generally, are by no means as deep as John's in Binscombe, though it's nonetheless the foundational territory of my imagination.)

And in the same vein of goosebumps and cold grue, take a look at Tanya Kirk's collection of seasonal ghost stories for British Library Publishing, Haunters at the Hearth, with contributions by D H Lawrence, A M Burrage, James Hadley Chase, L P Hartley, Mildred Clingerman and others. If only she'd included a Binscombe Tale it would have been perfect.

Binscombe Tales can be bought in the US from Amazon or Barnes & Noble,
and in the UK from Amazon or Blackwell's.

12 comments:

  1. I can't think of a finer Christmas present than this one, Dave. Waiting For A Bus is my favourite amongst favourites. Nice picture to go with it as well. Even the trees have a sinister vibe.

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    1. Those AI artists are going to take over the world, Andy. Mark my words.

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  2. This is a must read for me - thanks for recommending it. Coincidentally, I also lived in Mayford (well, just outside in Prey Heath) from the age of 11 and the Surrey woods, hills and heaths, and the old towns and villages, existing alongside a swelling commuterland, was very formative of my imagination as well. I have fond memories of long walks at night with my friend Steve where the suburban sprawl felt emptied out and the countryside was our own.

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    1. Small world! Many a Dragon Warriors scenario or gamebook incident or scene from Mirabilis came to me while walking across Prey Heath.

      The commuterland was there too, and also part of my imaginative landscape -- strongly evoked in the early scenes of Harry's neighbourhood in the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, I thought.

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    2. Oh wow! It's great to know that. Quite a coincidence. Another one is that I took my first steps into role-playing in the mid 80s at the school club that I think you founded (the wargames society at the Royal Grammar School, Guildford).

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    3. It was there I first discovered roleplaying games. We used to gather on a Saturday morning in the 6th form common room -- which in those days was a lot more Spartan a building than it is now. I met John Whitbourn there, though he'd want me to add that he didn't go to the RGS.

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  3. Hi Dave, in honour of Mr Whitbourn and his wonderful Binscombe Tales, I here offer a most unusual entry which I have uncovered in the journal of noted diarist Samuel Pepys, and which I trust will be of interest to scholars of the weird…

    Sunday 23 December 1660

    At noon, to the Half Moon tavern on Fenchurch Street, to a dinner of Captain Blake’s where was Sir W.Pen, Captain Cuttance and one Mr Disvan of Surrey, whom I never saw before, but who seems a fine gentleman. We had a very fine dinner and good discourse on diverse subjects, a great deal of Florence wine, and several splendid bottles of Margate ale (though Mr Disvan did swear to the superiority of the brewery in his hometown of Binscombe, and bade me come and sample it should business ever carry me that way).

    As the evening wound on, Mr Disvan discovered to me his purpose in visiting London, which was to search for his ward, Miss Oakley, who had yesterday eloped with a cavalier who had fought in old King Charles’s army.

    I ventured to suggest that, with our sovereign’s son now restored to his thrones and royal war-heroes held in the highest esteem, perhaps this pairing wasn't the worst, if it could be rectified by marriage bells - to which Mr Disvan nodded sombrely and said “I would be inclined to agree with you Mr Pepys; if it weren’t for the fact that this hero died at Marston Moor.”

    And so to bed...?

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    1. Thanks for that, John. I wonder if Mr Pepys ever made a trip down to Binscombe? Perhaps later diary entries will reveal that.

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  4. John, to quote Alan Partridge, "Lovely stuff!"

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  5. I realise that the caravan of comment has long since passed on, but my indifference to convention knows no bounds...

    Thank you, Mr Hagan, for your kind words re the Binscombe Tales, and doubly so for the wonderful Pepysian pastiche. I confess I thought I was reading the real thing and thus had somehow missed a Binscomian reference in English Literature (they're few...). Until that is I crashed up against the name Disvan...
    If I may - and if I may not then who may? - hereby declare your contribution to be 'Binscombe canonical', and thus part of the corpus.
    Accordingly, welcome to Binscombe, Mr H. Although I cannot be held responsible if you should thereby attract Mr Disvan's enigmatic gaze...

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  6. Many thanks for your "imprimatur", Mr Whitbourn, for my modest contribution to your opus! Being now in Binscombe, I shall surely head to the Argyll tonight for a pint, although I probably won't choose to travel there by bus...

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