Being a record of the ruminations, ramblings and obsessions of a Hound of the noblest breed (or so His Lordship claims, anyway). The focus being on dark music and culture, style, spirituality and - naturally – Basset Hounds.
Welcome to the chronicles of Lord Bassington-Bassington, coming to you from Little Storping in the Swuff – a quaint place located somewhere between England’s Lake District and the outskirts of the Norwegian capital.
This is intended as a log of His explorations of music, books, films and so on. I, your humble chronicler, is merely His Lordship’s secretary.
For more information on Lord Bassington-Bassington, please confer this blog’s opening post. Contacts can be directed to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Lord Bassington-Bassington has been invited to give a lecture about H.P. Lovecraft in Trondheim next month. The date is November 20th, more details will follow as this unravels.
In the meantime, His Lordship has taken up his Lovecraftian studies again.
As is his habit, he'd like to commemorate the occasion by delving into some Lovecraftian poetry. And the first part of Lovecraft's sonnet The Fungi from Yuggoth must surely be evocative of the areas near the harbor in Trondheim?
The place was dark and dusty and half-lost In tangles of old alleys near the quays, Reeking of strange things brought in from the seas, And with queer curls of fog that west winds tossed. Small lozenge panes, obscured by smoke and frost, Just shewed the books, in piles like twisted trees, Rotting from floor to roof - congeries Of crumbling elder lore at little cost.
I entered, charmed, and from a cobwebbed heap Took up the nearest tome and thumbed it through, Trembling at curious words that seemed to keep Some secret, monstrous if one only knew. Then, looking for some seller old in craft, I could find nothing but a voice that laughed.
If anyone could help set Lord Bassington-Bassington's paws on course for such a bookshop, he would be very grateful.