Greetings, foul friends!
It’s been a busy month for us, moving a menagerie of distilling equipment, bottles, ingredients, demons, ghosts, and other unspeakable things into the new distillery. As any of you who have moved home will know, it’s not a task you’d wish on your worst enemy while it’s going on, but once you’re in the new place and settled, it’s completely worth it…
Greetings, foul friends!
Can we start this month’s entry with a bit of a moan? Normally, we’d leave that to The Wailing Warblers, the Lodge’s resident band of ghosts, but they’re currently on tour in Europe (speak to your local mausoleum for tickets).
Greetings, foul friends!
May we be the first of the undead to wish you a Happy New Year. We hope you rang in the new year merry, happy, and consuming our award-winning small batch gin.
What did we do for New Year, you ask?…
Greetings, foul friends!
The end of the year fast approacheth. Very soon, people across the land will be encouraging a fat man to break into their homes, eat their food, drink their alcohol, and then leave without so much as a thank you.
Greetings, foul friends!
No sooner have the Halloween embers petered out than we’re lighting new fires to celebrate Guido Fawkes being hung, drawn, and quartered over 400 years ago.
Oh, how we love this quaint little country of yours!
Greetings, foul friends!
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! We realise that you humans usually associate that phrase with Christmas, but we fail to see what could be more wonderful than inclement weather, chilly mornings, dark nights and a higher-than-average chance of being attacked by a werewolf.
Glorious!
Greetings, foul friends!
May we be the first of the undead to wish you a Happy New Year. We hope you rang in the new year merry, happy, and consuming our award-winning small batch gin.
What did we do for New Year, you ask?
Well, it was going swimmingly at first. We were all gathered by the fire in the main hall, reminiscing about the year being left behind and making plans for the upcoming year. Then, the countdown began, the Lodge’s grandfather clock boomed midnight, and we all cheered and embraced; skeleton, witch, monk, vampire, and minotaur alike—a lovely scene.
Then, the villager’s fireworks started going off and the werewolves began howling and cowering like someone was feeding them silver treats. Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Cousin Amenhotep tried to comfort Rex, the youngest of the pack, but he was swiped across the room for his troubles. Unfortunately, a stray bandage of his caught one of the candles along his trajectory back to earth, and he went up in flames like dry tinder. Picture it; a 2,000-year-old mummy on fire, rolling around on the rug trying to put himself out, with a pack of scared werewolves providing the soundtrack.
So it was just like last New Year, really.
Anyway, let’s look forward instead of backwards. I’ve had Igor prepare a list of things I can tell you about, so let’s begin.
Oh, I can’t seem to find the list.
IGOR?!
IGOR?!
IG…
Oh, where is that man?
Never mind, I’ll tell you myself.
FESTIVALS
It’s been almost a full lunar cycle since we ventured out into the human world and attended a market festival, so it’ll do us good to venture out and walk amongst you all again. If you’re in the vicinity of Trentham Gardens on the 18th of January and are visiting the Makers Market, stop by and say hello and sample some of our artisan gins. We’ll have every flavour available to try, so make sure you pop by to say hello.
AMAZON
If you need some of our produce in a rush (you’ve run out after Christmas, an emergency birthday gift for someone, your uncle who collects matchsticks is coming around with a projector screen and 3,000 slides of his collection to show you, that sort of thing), then you can get Black Lodge Potions gin on Amazon. At the time of writing, some of our flavours are on offer, so you might even be able to grab yourself a New Year’s bargain if you’re quick.
What else was there to mention?
Ah, this is embarrassing. It turns out I do need Igor’s list after all. I can’t remember what it is I had to talk about.
Don’t laugh!
When you’ve been undead for thousands of years and your mind is solely focused on crafting delicious new flavours, you’re allowed the occasional senior moment.
Delicious new flavours…now, that rings a bell.
No, that’s Reverend Stoker practising in the Lodge’s chapel.
New flavours…new flavours…
No, it’s gone, sorry. I’ll have to find that damnable list and let you know next time.
IGOR!
UNTIL NEXT TIME…
I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this month’s entry short, dear readers. It turns out that Igor wasn’t ignoring me, he was changing Amenhotep’s bandages, so I’ll spare him the rack this time. It does mean he’ll be indisposed for a while, though, so I promise to make sure I have that list in front of me before I put quill to parchment next month.
Until then, keep to the paths, stay off the moors, and be safe.
Stay spooky,
Brother G and Brother T
