Magic, Mystery & Mayhem - Part 1

Having spent some time on the beautiful land of Dartmoor I felt strangely inspired by the magical and ancient landscapes, the flowing rivers and fearless rocks, the stone circles and dark forests. The land of the west is riddled with such beauty and mysticism and deserves closer attention by all. So I proudly (not at all) present the first in an occasional series of articles reporting on the myth and legend of the west. Join me as I take you on a journey through time and space as we investigate The Magic Of The West!

The Ghost Of Lady Howard

As the gates of Fitzford House rumble open a fearsome, red-eyed hound thunders towards you. Behind it comes a horse-drawn carriage, it’s only passenger a ghostly white old woman – The Ghost Of Lady Howard. So far, so good (although the bloodthirsty, red-eyed hell-hound might be pushing it a bit but whatever). But wait, there’s more.

The carriage is made of bones and it’s driven by a headless horseman. OK. And Freddy Kruger did the MOT right? Who fixes your hair, lady, Michael Myers?

So apparently the bone-wagon travels 16 miles to Okehampton and when they get to the castle the dog walks up the castle mound and gently plucks a single blade of grass in its teeth and then they all head back to Fitzford House. By the way, I can’t believe the hell-hound isn’t slavering all over that carriage made of bones. Seriously headless horseman? If the suspension ever goes on that thing I’m guessing the dog has been chewing on your shocks. Just saying.

(Oh, the picture has got nothing to do with this particular legend but wow, what a creepy cat - you'd better say thank you when it brings you another chewed up, half dead frog as a present or it might shoot a laser out of it's eyes or something)

It seems that Lady Howard will not be released from this nightly spectral procession until the entire castle mound is free from grass as a penance for murdering loads of people or something. Two words - established judicial system. What kind of crazy judge passes that sentence? I know judges are a bit old and mad and all but as soon as they start sentencing people to an eternity of watching a dog pluck a blade of grass from a castle mound every night I think it's probably time to hang up the wig.

And haven’t you ever heard of Round-Up? It’ll clear that grass in no time. She must be an organic gardener. Just cover it in old carpet or black plastic sheeting. Job done. If the dog really has to do it why not just send the dog? Do you have to be there every time? Take a night off, watch ‘Ice-Dancing With The Stars’ or something.

This legend is so dumb that I can’t even be bothered to poke fun at it anymore.

BB