Krampusnacht.

25/11/2018

Only seven days until Ms Crockofshit and I fly to Austria for a week's sojourn, during which time, we shall be attending at least two Krampusnacht parades, one in Salzburg, and another in Bad Goisern, when we shall surprise our old friend Krampus!
Will you spot 'The Real Deal' in amongst all the costumed roisterers?

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Sometimes one simply needs to get away. My neighbours, amusing as they sometimes are often re- awaken in me certain ‘urges’. Urges which invariably concern the use of greased wooden poles.

Of course when I do have the opportunity to scamper off on a jolly jaunt, my ideal destination tends not to be ‘usual’.

I prefer charnel house to manor house, gin palace to Buckingham palace, Bran castle to Windsor castle, boneyard to botanic garden. You probably discern the pattern.

Therefore, fascinating as life on the strangest street in this sceptered isle may be, I thought readers might appreciate the occasional diversion further afield.

It is my intention to regale you with tales of my light-hearted cadaverous caperings into the weird, the macabre and the unusual around the UK and (sometimes) beyond.

Perhaps I may visit medieval buildings guarded by faithful gargoyles, graveyards and catacombs inhabited by the restless dead, extraordinary natural landscapes where pagan gods dwell, restaurants, pubs and hotels in unusual places, haunted by ancient denizens and hopefully run by mad chefs with mad ideas. I will not know until I get there. I can only say they will be places to replenish my essence and head off those pesky impaling urges.

Tread with me if you will, paths less well known.

The extracurricular adventures of Vlad and Ms Crockofshit

Krampusnacht.

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