PASSING STRANGE - A look inside the world of WEIRD WALK

Back in the dim and distant past, that strange dark age we now call the 1980s, fanzines were a rather big thing. Or rather they weren't a big thing, and that was sort of the point. For in those now near mythical days, the media landscape was dominated by a handful of TV stations, a clutch of publishers and a small cartel of magazine makers. Hence everything was very mainstream, and if you wanted anything that was considered niche, that was too bad. 

But that was where the fanzines came in - covering all manner of diverse subjects, from punk to RPGs, from football to the occult, these little self-published pamphlets and magazines connected enthusiasts of all stripes across the land, and indeed across the world. But then came the modern digital age, and while the modern PC brought us wonders such as desktop publishing, a dream come true for all those self-publishers and editors slaving away in bedrooms and garages, at the same time it brought the internet, which pretty much stole the fanzines' thunder.  

However it would seem that the great wheel of fate is turning once again. While once websites, forums and web rings (remember them?) had successfully eclipsed the old small presses and fanzine factories, these days we see the interweb mostly often through the smaller lens of a phone screen, and consequently few now can be bothered with bulletin boards or reading reviews that like this one that dares to run to several paragraphs and consists of more just a few lines of lazy snarking. However, there is still an audience for people who want more than knee-jerk ranting or pictures of cats in funny hats - after all you've read this far haven't you - and it would seem that the humble fanzine is being reborn! 

All of which meandering across the cultural landscape brings me, in a somewhat fitting fashion, to Weird Walk, a brand new fanzine with a very old school sensibility but produced with all the magic of the digital age. It's a proper old fashioned print publication filled with articles of a highly individual and idiosyncratic nature, and takes a stroll through folklore, geography and history in search of the intriguing and the unusual. 

Firstly let me say that this little magazine is truly a thing of beauty, boasting production values we could only dream of back the days of '80s fanzines. There's no blurry type or wonky scissors and cow gum layouts here. The pages are bright and colourful with photographs a-plenty, and even some gorgeous endpapers. But while the digital wizardry of the 21st century undoubtedly played an important part of the making of 'zine, the first issue feels like its beamed in from another age, where the whole look of a publication conjured up an atmosphere and a world to dive into, an age where you would take time out to sit down and savour a little publication like this rather than scroll quickly through some clickbait tat. 

And indeed, what a delight it is to sit down with a copy of Weird Walk. The theme and uniting principle of the mag is basically exploring the various unusual and strange things that one can encounter when one starts gadding about in the local landscape, and as you can see on the cover, we have a wide and intriguing array of contents. The articles within are a perfect illustration of what good magazines to deliver - they are engaging and informative, and pull off the neat trick of being concise, and hence ideal bite-size reading, and yet are so are packed with detail on their chosen subjects, you never feel things have been given short shrift.

Now while the promises of chatting about standing stones and folklore obviously caught my eye initially, Weird Walk isn't content to just play to the gallery. And hence while articles on dolmens have a clear appeal, one of the joys of Weird Walk is discovering fascinating articles on things outside your usual radar. For example, most of us only know of Tudor comedian Will Kempe from his appearances as a character in the BBC Shakespearean sitcom Upstart Crow, but Weird Walk gives us an engaging account of the life and times of the real man. Likewise, while you may heard of something called dungeon synth, Weird Walk has the perfect introduction to this eccentric musical genre. 

Meanwhile if you have the slightest interest in history, the article on medieval graffiti is a revelation. For here we have a complete starter guide to this area of historical research, and what's more, the article tell you how with some very basic equipment - a small LED torch -  it's one that you yourself that join in with.  If you, like me, love visiting old building and sites, then this article alone is worth the price of admission. 

All in all, Weird Walk is a wonderful little publication, which I can highly recommend to all lovers of the weird and the wonderful, the historic and the folkloric! And I hope there will be many more future issues! 

You can get a copy here - https://weirdwalk.bigcartel.com/

And you can follow Weird Walk on Instagram 

Or catch their tweets at Weird Walk on Twitter

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - The Strolling Stones

The Cheesewring at Bodmin Moor

Over the past few weeks we have been exploring some legends surrounding certain standing stones that claim that these ancient pieces of rock actually revolve, at particular times of the day or year, of their own accord. A famous example is the Cheesewring in Devon (pictured above), an iconic array of stones, often thought to be an ancient structure but was actually formed by wind and weather erosion. It has a typical folkloric origin tale, in this case it is said that the Cheesewring is the result of rock throwing contest between a local giant Uther and Saint Tue. But also according to legend, the topmost stone revolves at dawn when it hears a cockcrow. In this case, we should perhaps note that in addition to the miraculous ability to rotate itself, as it is located in the wilds of Bodmin Moor, the Cheesewring must also possess preternatural auditory senses too as the nearest farms where a cockerel might be lie many miles away! 

Last week I outlined a theory that these tales of self-turning stones perhaps originated in the 18th century, thanks to a highly influential book recording how on the Isle of Barry, an alleged survival of Druid rituals was the custom of walking around a local standing stone. And the idea that standing stones were linked to Druids and people would "take a religious turn" around them seeped into the folklore of many megaliths, and became corrupted into tall tales that the stones themselves did the turning. And as we have discovered in recent weeks, the alleged ability of stones to revolve or rotate frequently appears to be a generic attribute added to more elaborate and individual folklore stories about them.

However I suspect this generic attribute of turning themselves at cockcrow or certain days of the year, while sounding rather bizarre to modern ears, easily took root in folklore due to the presence of an earlier related story tradition. For while revolving now and again might sound very odd to us, it is in fact the very least of the magical powers of mobility that ancient standing stones were reputed to possess. To begin with we have numerous legends and old tales of stones that walk. For example, in Gloucestershire, near the ancient market town of Minchinhampton, is a menhir called the Long Stone, which does considerably more than revolve!

"When the Longstone hears the clock strike twelve, it runs round the field," as almost every child in the place will tell you. 

from Cotswold Place-Lore and Customs by J. B. Partridge, in Folklore, Vol. 23, No. 3. (Sep., 1912)

Furthermore, not far away is another megalith, one that is thought to be the remnant of a long barrow. And this standing stone is keen on a bit of exercise as well, as Mr Patridge goes on to relate -

In Avening parish, about half a mile south of the Longstone, is "Tinglestone," a menhir crowning a long barrow; Mr. Frost of Avening tells me that it too* "runs round the field when it hears the clock strike twelve."

Skipping a little further north, we have the famous monuments at Avebury, which comprise of three stone circles and an ancient henge. To the north of the village lies one of the larger megaliths in the complex, a diamond shaped sarsen known as the Swindon Stone. However despite weighing in at an impressive 65 tonnes, the Swindon Stone likes to get out and about too, with local legends asserting that it is apt to go for a wander, and crosses the nearby road at midnight.

The Swindon Stone at Avebury

Now of course it would be easy to dismiss such legends as idle fancy, however we do have more detailed reports of the secret strolls taken by standing stones. Consider the following tale concerning the Wimblestone, located near Shipham, related in the book Somerset Folklore (1965) by Ruth L Tongue - 

Zebedee Fry were coming home late from the hay-making above Shipham. It were full moon, for they'd worked late to finish, and the crop was late being a hill field, so he had forgot what night 'twas. He thought he saw something big and dark moving in the field where the big stone stood, but he was too bone-weary to go chasing any stray bullock. Then something huge and dark in field came rustling all alongside lane hedge, and Zebedee he up and dive into the brimmles in the ditch till it passed right along, and then he ran all a-tiptoe to reach Shipham. When he come to the field gate he duck two-double and he rush past it. But, for all that, he see this gurt stone, twelve feet and more, a-dancing to itself in the moonlight over top end of field. And where it always stood the moon were shining on a heap of gold money. But Zebedee he didn't stop for all that, not until he were safe at the inn at Shipham. They called he all sorts of fool for not getting his hand to the treasure - but nobody seemed anxious to have a try - not after he'd told them how nimble it danced round field. And nobody knows if 'twill dance again in a hundred years. Not till there's a full moon on Midsummer Night.

It is interesting to note that "wimble" is thought to be derived from an old word meaning 'lively' or 'giddy'. And indeed there are other tales of folks falling foul of the Wimblestone, with one story alleging it attacked a farmer who struck it with a stick, and chased him across the countryside until he took refuge in a nearby church!

The Wimblestone, seen here behaving itself for a change

As a side note, it would seem that tales about the marauding Wimblestone inspired one of the stranger monsters ever seen in Doctor Who. In October 1978, an adventure for the Fourth Doctor (played Tom Baker) began entitled The Stones of Blood. Now as well featuring Druidic rites, megaliths, and Celtic goddesses, we were introduced to some alien monsters called the Ogri. These space criminals had been hiding out on Earth, and as they were a silicon based life form, they disguised had themselves as menhirs! The practical upshot of which was we had standing stones moving around at night in search of blood to drink!

But to return to the realm of folklore, thankfully though, it would appear that most stones that like a stroll aren't as aggressive as the Wimblestone. However it would seem that such stories of walking stones are in fact very ancient indeed. Around 828 AD, a Welsh monk named Nennius wrote an epic work entitled Historia Brittonum which recounted the history of the British Isles and its peoples. Much of the material in the volume was fanciful to say the least and owed more to legend than actual historical fact. And while it is of limited value to historians, it is a treasure trove of folklore. For example, Nennius makes a very interesting reference to a tale about an ancient standing stone found in Wales -

The third is a stone which moves at night in Glenn Cindenn, and though it should be cast into the sea, or into a cataract, it would be found on the margin of the same valley.

It is also worth noting that it is thought that Nennius didn't actually pen all (or according to some scholars, any) of Historia Brittonum, and that the text was assembled from even earlier anonymous sources. The mention of the stone returning to its site if ever moved is also a common feature in moving stone lore, alongside stories of the stones resisting and foiling any attempt to move them. For example, our bad boy rockstar, the Wimblestone is alleged to have rolled over and crushed a chap who tried to pull it up with oxen. So then, it would seem we can trace stories of strolling stones back at least to the 7th century. Little wonder then that the apparently more recent additions to folklore involving stones rotating took root so quickly. And as we shall we next week, ancient stones often did more incredible things than just taking an occasional hike...

Doctor Who and the Stones of Blood