SAT JAN 26

It seems as if Nat’s delicate nature and visionary aspect have made him the ideal foil for picking up so exclusively the grisly idiosyncrasies of the house. The rest of the family seems to exist firmly within the twentieth-century world which cloaks the ancient building, whilst Nat is a prisoner of a much earlier time, at least in his own mind.

The extent to which Nat is steeped in the macabre has greatly shocked me. Going on what his parents had told me, I had expected perhaps a few tawdry tokens: books, posters etc. from the rapidly expanding horror genre market. At worst I had expected tarot cards and ouija boards—which can actually unleash dormant psychical forces.

I was suspicious of the effects Nat’s fungi garden might have had on my perceptions whilst visiting him. I therefore ran some tests and found that I have developed a mild allergy to fungal spores, but only certain rare varieties, of which Nat must have some examples. I’ve been studying some books on fungi; it would seem that some species are colonised by lichens and mildew—hence the green toadstool illusion. I believe it was the allergy that so distorted my sense of smell in the secret cellar. However, there is no accounting for that incredible television set, which supposedly has been running uninterrupted, barring power cuts, for thirty years; it is a possibility. Nor is there any accounting for the funny mirror, or the things which I beheld in that archaic attic.

SUN JAN 27

To find out more with regard to Nat’s house, I contacted a local retired archaeologist, Mr. Thistle, who has a deep interest in the history of Black Langley, firmly believing that it has its origins in a Belgian iron-age settlement. I hinted at some of the things I had seen in Nat’s house. He was not in the least perturbed, probably due to a lifetime’s study of corpses and old graves, and living amongst ancient burial mounds during digs. Indeed, he informed me that many houses are built upon “boneyards”, Black Langley being no less eager than other villages during the fifteenth century in its pursuit and destruction of heretics and witches. He considered that all houses were built on the resting place of some unfortunate, when you contemplate the number of deaths over the last ten thousand years.

These comments were not entirely jocular, nor were they far from the truth.