Fortean Traveller

[Anonymous-50446]

But how can you tell if you've annoyed an elf?

You wake up and it's 100 years into the future...and your grown-up grandchildren seem vaguely familiar.

 

[PeteS]

You wake up and it's 100 years into the future...and your grown-up grandchildren seem vaguely familiar.

Probably best not to annoy them then. Having said that of course it'd be 70 years past the end of the End Times so you might get the last laugh.

 

[Anonymous-50446]

might get the last laugh.

Literally.

 

[Bad Bungle]

(LEFT): Brentor, Dartmoor: at 1100ft St. Michael is the highest Parish church with regular Services in England (locked). Taken on foot with a large rucksack and a heavy heart in Summer 1979. (RIGHT): Brentor, Dartmoor: St. Michael (open), Taken with less baggage June 2017.


Some things change, some stay the same (Pretenders)

 

[Bad Bungle]

October 2005: Re-constructed Iron Age House at Bostadh Beach at the north end of the island of Great Bernera (Outer Hebrides). A storm in 1993 had cut away the sand dunes and exposed stone structures beneath. Excavations revealed these to be of Viking origin but below the Norse level were Pictish 'jelly-baby' or 'figure-of-eight' houses (post 500 BC). The original plan was to give the re-constructed house a turf roof, but apparently the summer of 1998 was exceptionally wet and the cut turves rotted before they could be cured - so the roof was thatched instead. It was real cosy inside and commanded a fantastic view of the beach.

 

[Bad Bungle]

I visited Rievaulx Abbey (Cistercian) near Helmsley on holiday in North Yorks because my brother kept hearing mention of it on Time Team as a comparison to other monastery sites. I had no idea it was so big (my brother is in the photo for scale) - my Mate was born in Yorkshire and had never heard of it

 

[Bad Bungle]

First saw the town of Staithes on a calendar, had no idea where it was (North Yorkshire), though it looked so familiar, like a childhood memory that never happened. Reminded me of a West Country coastal town I may have nearly visited, so I cut the picture out and pasted it next to my monitor at Work. For the next 12 years I stared meditated on it, mentally walking down the righthand side of the beck, across the bridge and then tried following the path *round the corner* to the sea front. This was where Artists had come to paint because of the 'light'. I got so close after years of remote viewing/day-dreaming to turn that corner but couldn't quite do it. I don't know what I expected to see, it was a feeling, a very personal one, the one that makes me want to turn down a lane with grass growing in the middle of it, the road less travelled.

I got to Staithes in the end, cannot remember a thing about the sea front other than the tide was in and there was mud.

(This is a picture of Staithes, not the picture of Staithes).

 

[AgProv]

But how can you tell if you've annoyed an elf?

Never ask a Terry Pratchett fan that question, and do remember to touch iron...

 

[AgProv]

Only tangentially fortean, but this is maybe a quarter of a mile from where I live. The significance of the cast iron post is that it marks the original county boundary between Cheshire and Lancashire in the middle of Stockport which was legally the case up until around 1900-ish. After this point the historical county border became redundant and was moved about a mile further north for good administrative reasons - Lancashire officially ceded a few square mile of its bottom right hand corner to Cheshire. (People didn't like it, apparently, and refused to accept they no longer lived in Lancashire). The thing is, nobody ever moved the border post. It's still here. The reason was a good one: Stockport had swelled up to occupy a lot of land that had hitherto been open countryside, and a lot of smaller villages and hamlets some of which were in Cheshire and some of which were in Lancashire were now pretty much a conterminous whole which at the northern end were shading into Manchester. It really didn't make sense to have a town where everything north of the river Mersey was governed from distant Lancaster. But cross the river, or pass this post, and suddenly you were being administered from almost equally far away Chester. So everything that could reasonably be considered "Stockport" was brought together as part of Cheshire. This persisted until 1974 and the creation of the "Greater Manchester" monolith. And by then people thought, and still thought, "bugger off, we're in Cheshire" - an attitude that persists today as nobody puts "Stockport, Greater Manchester" as their postal address... but the old historical boundary is still here. Which raises interesting questions about identity, borderlines, edges, littorals, and so forth. A bit like that mad bit of the border between Holland and Belgium that runs through the middle of one town, or else those places on the Irish border where somebody's living room is in the UK and their kitchen is in the republic... and just over the way is LLoyd Street, where in the old days no 53 was in Cheshire and no 51 was in Lancashire...

 

[AgProv]

That bit in the bottom of the photo where the cobblestones begin is the top of the oldest road of all through Stockport; it was the old coach road from London to Carlisle which forded the Mersey at the bottom of the hill and then had to climb a steep road. Apparently the passengers had to get out and walk here as the gradient was so steep... the coach road was made redundant first by the railway and then by the A6 main road wich runs a few hundred yards to the west. The bottom hundred yards or so were sacrificed to build the M56 or whatever it is motorway - but walking here, it is so unbeleivably quiet that the motorway comes as a low distant muted noise and you are not aware of either the main road or the West Coast Main Line. It is an incredibly peaceful place with a sense of timelessness to it.

 

[AgProv]

On the coach road: I'm prepared to believe the cobblestones (OK, setts) underfoot were here in the 1600's and 1700's. possibly preserved because no actual wheeled traffic has been here for maybe a century, possibly longer. There is a really odd feeling here of being out of time. The muting of all sounds - with a stonking great motorway a hudred and fifty yards away - is amazing. This is the view looking up:

 

[gordonrutter]

Treat yourself to a virtual tour of the Pitt Rivers Museum, you will thank me. https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=ns3yCKpUzSq&help=1

 

[Bad Bungle]

That is incredible. Tricky to navigate the stairs to the upper galleries though.

 

[Tempest63]

On the coach road: I'm prepared to believe the cobblestones (OK, setts) underfoot were here in the 1600's and 1700's.

I was gutted recently when passing through Mitre Square in the City of London that, following recent redevelopment, all the cobbles (OK, setts) had been replaced with paving. Having treated many friends and visitors to London to a Ripper walk, one of the things that sticks in peoples minds is when walking through Mitre Square you were told “you are actually walking on the same cobbles that Jack the Ripper trod”. Bloody vandalism. No doubt some developer or “Project Manager“ has recently had a new drive laid!

 

[Lord Lucan]

Treat yourself to a virtual tour of the Pitt Rivers Museum, you will thank me. https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=ns3yCKpUzSq&help=1

Incredible. Thanks for that! Have you been there in person?

 

[Lord Lucan]

I was gutted recently when passing through Mitre Square in the City of London that, following recent redevelopment, all the cobbles (OK, setts) had been replaced with paving. Having treated many friends and visitors to London to a Ripper walk, one of the things that sticks in peoples minds is when walking through Mitre Square you were told “you are actually walking on the same cobbles that Jack the Ripper trod”. Bloody vandalism. No doubt some developer or “Project Manager“ has recently had a new drive laid!

This is on my bucket list of places to visit. I am well aware it's undergone change after change over the years and is losing it's authenticity from Jack's time faster than I can type my response, but I would still like to walk where he and his victims walked, especially at night.

 

[gordonrutter]

Incredible. Thanks for that! Have you been there in person?

No but I do now want to!

 

[Bad Bungle]

No but I do now want to!

You won't be disappointed.

 

[gordonrutter]

You won't be disappointed.

View attachment 25223

I had read about it in an article on repatriation of human remains and did think it sounded fascinating, this confirmed it.

 

[FrKadash]

Has anyone heard of this app called Randonautica? I heard it mentioned on the Strange Familiars podcast and installed it. It looks really interesting, a pretty original idea for an app, along the lines of psychogeography. Check out episode 157 of Strange Familiars, Force the Hand of Chance: A How-To Guide to Psychogeography.

‘Randonauts’ have found a great way to spice up lockdown walks

Thousands of people are using the Randonautica app to tell them where to go during lockdown – and they’re spotting some weird coincidences
If you’ve got a smartphone and access to the internet, you have everything you need to start your journey as a randonaut.

Randonauting is using a random number generator to produce specific coordinates within a set radius of your current location that you can travel to as a way of exploring the world around you. People gather these coordinates through a dedicated app, Randonautica, where they can further define what they want to encounter.

The app encourages users to set a personal intention before visiting a location, in the hopes of uncovering ‘synchronicities,’ coincidences or occurrences outside usual patterns of experience. These experiences are then documented on the community’s various online forums.

For example, one person set out with the intention of ‘seeing something unexplainable’ and stumbled across an empty armchair in a field, while another asked for guidance and ended up at an abandoned mirror telling them IT IS YOUR TIME.

https://www.wired.co.uk/article/randonautica-lockdown