Well, last night’s little gathering was very pleasant indeed… a lovely way to spend a cold November evening in a warm pub that serves good ale and provides good company. Adam started the evening with a tale of a young man thwarted in his efforts to find a wife, until he found the woman who was his true partner. Rod Dimbleby told us of Willie’s Wedding Night, a shaggy dog story originally from Ireland but relocated to West Yorkshire… Paul Zealand told of a giant wyrm that devoured maidens until, defeated by a lazy but clever son of a fisherman, burning from within, it died and became the land of Iceland. Craig revisited “He Who Walks”, a creation style myth with Indo-European influences, while Sarah gave a telling of a self penned sketch of a clash between two cultures and their respective folklore. Rod spoke of how the peacock got its colour while the crow remained black and Jim told a spooky story about a house on “The Hill”. Craig read out a short poem of the death of Cú Chulainn, the hound of Ulster, then Nick recounted a tale inspired by his last journey to Haworth, in which a careless driver is cursed for running over a hare. Adam read a poem, The Storyteller, and Paul polished off the evening with a final Icelandic tale of a young wizard who fell in love but was doomed to death by his colleagues, and how his clever lady defeated the sorcerers’ magic.