Front page of the 10 November 2017 print edition of The English Reporter. Digitized for public record.

METHVEN HOLLOW’S MANGUM OPUS AWAITS.

By The English Reporter - “The Methven Mole” Investigation’s Section)

NOVEMBER 17TH ROLLS FORWARD LIKE GOLD GLITTERING IN THE STORMY DISTANCE for Methvians and Earth dwellers alike.

Assuming you’ve booked your flight WELL before July, somehow managed to secure any accommodation within miles of the entire counties of both Kent and Surrey - and managed to not get lost on your way here, then you understand what all the fuss is about.

The Festival of the Bog is worth the hullaballoo, the fuss and noise. Whatever word you use to describe electric excitement, we’ll take it.

From the various clashes of neon, coloured lights of the many carnival rides, to the abundant saccharine-and-savoury scents that attack ones olfactory senses, right down to the main attraction- the Bog itself - this event has earned its crown spot among online sleuths and corners of the web dedicated to lore-hunting, mystery and obscene speculation.

But before we get to the festival, take it from us, here at The English Reporter - it is of the the utmost imperative that you must know the town itself.

Because that matters. Really matters.

Methven Hollow.

Understand it - at the very least, what can actually be understood of the town.

So think of this an unofficial-official guide to Methven Hollow town. You’ll find it more valuable than you think.

METHVEN HOLLOW- AND THE FAMILY THAT OWNS IT.

The first mystery to note: - the reasoning behind the town’s name is lost to even its own denizens. No one definitively knows the reasoning or history of why the name “Methven Hollow”. Of course devout historians can give educated assumptions but that is the first of many mysteries surrounding the strange and wonderful town.

That’s the first of many mysteries.

The second (if there is even a point of or manner to ordering mysteries) are the founders of the town themselves - the Burvington Clan.

Yes those Burvingtons. The very same of which the prestigious preparatory boys school is named after.

The entirety of Methven Hollow town and many surrounding lands, the mysteries we have yet to mention AND Burvington preparatory Boys School of Excellence were all owned- and rumoured to STILL be very much owned - by the famed family that no longer exists.

Strange. vexing even. But far stranger and impossible is the history of how they got to this odd, hallowed soil… and have in one way of earnestly reporting, never truly left.

HAUNTED. HALLOWED. HISTORY.

Since Methvians were wee’ lassies and lads, we’ve been told the story of the Burvington clan’s first settlers and the elusive and almost mystical leader that lead the exploration. The frequency can be likened to how non- American’s feel, when visiting the States and witnessing the sheer amount of times one can cram their National Anthem in mere 24 hours.

Now, for the sake of time and quite frankly interest, we will not be forcing an unprompted and wholly unasked for full history lesson of the town - it would take far too long and the full history (that we can actually trace back) is better learned through those who specialise in it. We are no such resource.

But, we can give you the necessary lowdown of the marvellous and unbelievable history of the Burvingtons in the form of 2 particular eras of the clan:

The first and the last

THE FIRST BURVINGTONS

Town archives tell us :

“It’s hard to pin point exactly as to when the first of the Burvington Clan stepped foot on these British shores.

However an educated estimation would suggest around the 1500’s. Back then, Methven Hollow as nothing more than home to the bog. The one we see now is not in comparison to what it used to be. The Bog was richer wetland, a luscious and verdant bog. But the Burvington ‘s are what make the story even more interesting. “

Originally, the first of the Burvington ‘s are said to have appeared suddenly and from extremely difficult manuscripts to get :

“In what appeared to be a light, those gents hath appeared suddenly. From the pointeth in which God hath met landeth, those gents did ride the waves with a potency and pow’r, blasphemous. Their skin a colour unlike our owneth. Nay pall’r ‘r sickness, their skin gleam’d as if ‘t be true the lighteth of God Himself attach’d to their skin. A medit’rranean shineth and a godly air shrouding those folk.”

The scripts give us the name of the head of the clan, the very first Burvington to grace British shores. : Lennonopes Baraknitz Burvington.

Yup. Say it as it’s spelt.

Granted, historical linguists - people who study languages and changes of such across time, are certain that the name we know him by, was changed, made more digestible for the locals. And that it is more than likely that Lennonopes’ actual name was nearly unpronounceable as where he came from - where they all did.

And apparently the man did NOT take kindly to nicknames.

But, back to more strange history.

Descriptions of the first Burvington’s are always all over the place, with some sources saying the skin to be dark, others ensure a Mediterranean tone . But one detail remains stubbornly consistent throughout various sources.

Every account of them that one can find, says the same thing : Something about a divine glow. Not just in shine but in persona and power - presence

Their reputation made waves all around the south where they first came. All kinds of things were said about them. Great and terrible.

Here is where it gets unfathomably interesting for the first Burvington settlers - and quite frankly, just unfathomable.

Lennonopes and the clan’s infamous reputation eventually spread and reached the ears of the royal court. The King at the time, King Henry VIII , heard that they were blasphemous men, claiming to be God and that they would over throw him.

And so, they were summoned before the king - mad, beheading his wives- Henry, and of course they obliged. A bloodbath would surely ensue, it was destined right?

Right?

Well….

“The Burvington’s only stayed for exactly an hour. Not touching a single piece of cutlery or any part of the most likely poisoned, feast made for them. The leader of the clan Lennonopes Burvington, stepped right past the guards, the priests, the King’s royal advisers and straight onto the throne, where King Henry sat.

He lowered himself towards his ear- the ear of the maddest and one of Britain’s bloodiest monarchs and he- Lennonopes whispered something.

No one, TO THIS DAY, knows what he said, but apparently it rocked King Henry VII, menace to society- murderer of wives- to the core.

Because after they left the throne room, King Henry never ever bothered them again and whatever request the Burvington ‘s had, it was done swiftly and silently. In one hour, the mysterious arrivals had even the King himself wrapped around their finger. He gave them whatever land of their choosing to do with it what they willed and that never changed even long after his death. “

- During “METHVEN HOLLOW TOURS.”

And all that history, that’s just, the start of the Burvingtons.

THE LAST BURVINGTONS

The Last of the Burvingtons, is a segment far shorter than both the one before and in history itself.

They simply… vanished.

Disappeared.

Dwindled, died.

That’s historically it.

Throughout over 250 years of life and power after Lennonopes first set foot on these shores, to the era of the last Burvingtons that we estimate to have begun at around the late 1770’s, very little history remains. Far too little and for what we reason?

We cannot tell. How perplexing is it, that a family so tethered, covered and pardoned by even the British Royal Monarchy - with extensive silent power to match just… ceased to exist.

That is a whole other article and a half in and of itself.

The Last of the legendary Burvington Clan’s leader was sir Edmund Burvington -

Yes, up until this point, every leader and governing power of Methven Hollow came through a Burvington - it was law. As well as their naturally given knighthood.

Edmund was the grandfather of sir Thomas Burvington- Burvington Boys Preparatory Boy’s School of Excellence’s founder, benefactor - owner.

• We know that Edmund ruled through the late 1700’s (approx. past 1770 at least).

• We can accurately note that he lived with three generations of his namesake in one big home that still exists in part, in the town today.

• He ruled over the town with them all.

• He was aptly described as dominating, authoritative, powerful and quite tall, which the manuscripts always wrote of, with hints of sheer surprise for some reason.

• He was a fearless leader and respected by the ruling monarchy at the time. Edmund had no notable enemies and so Methven Hollow continued to thrive.

• And then, he died.

• And very swiftly, through tragedies and seemingly in the night, so too did the legend of the Burvingtons die.

• Thomas and his school remained for a very long time after the end of his family - the only proof of their fabled might and myth.

• Then sir Thomas Alexander Burvington - died at sea in his estimated 50’s- 70’s ( again, no certain date or time) no heirs, no legacy but the school itself.

And that has, aggravatingly remained all that we have come to know of the last of the Burvington Clan and the end of their bloodline.

To this day, in 2017, no descendants of the highly esteemed Burvington bloodline have ever been found.

All this, all this madness, lore and mystery from the ONE legendary family line.

Whew. Take a breath. The English Reporter still always do.

Personally, I’ve always found both the beginning and end of the Burvingtons to all be a bit more myth and legend than actual history. But whether it’s one or the other or even both - it’s all seemingly proves to be true. That lore-like history seeps through the bizarre terrain at what is constantly described “at a cellular level”

And I’ve seen it. We’ve seen it and if you manage to make to the Festival, then I doubt the bizarreness will want to hide from you. Like it even could.

At the time of Lennonopes Burvington’s reign, it is noted that he may have written notes on the bizarre landscape/ terrain they landed on. He did not know why Methven is so strange but it is. And neither do we still, to this day.

Which brings us right back to everything.

This article is not chiefly about history, but how it still effects the present. In the most absurd and strange ways. Having done that, having hopefully helped explain the sheer mirth in the madness of the town that hold the event, let us get back to the matter at hand - The Festival of the Bog - and her supposed “children”.

FOG, FOREST AND BOG.

Another mystery fun fact : We don’t really know why we celebrate the Festival of the Bog. We just know that there are apparent signs, if when we don’t.

And TER apologies again for another but incredibly necessary 1st of 2 pit stops before the Bog itself and its festival.

It’s a pitstop that you will see in Methven Hollow ANYWAY. It is virtually impossible to not meet. But truly impossible to not get undoubtably - and fatally- lost in.

FOREST

Methven’s Forest, better and earnestly known as - The Methven Maze.

It can be as horrifying as it sounds.

Acres and acres of tangled vine and evergreen and not across masses of woodsy land so grand that it feels wrong to live here at times. It surrounds the town and larger parts of Burvington Boys school.

The forest is ancient, predating every generation of Burvington to step foot in English shores - including Lennonopes Burvington and the first fleet. It shares its primordiality with the prehistoric origins of its “sister” - the deep Appalachian Mountains of the USA for they were once part of the same continent - this is also history and geography we have coms to study at a young age here in Methven (which it is obviously older than - most considerably.)

But of course, it would be impossible and ruled totally unsafe for anyone to build just any sort of settlement here and they would be right, which is why a very large portion of the forest is not even legally open for the public living. Nope, there are many well worn and somewhat paved (the forest always reclaims herself) paths that have been governmentally studied as sound and acceptable for the Methvians and non to trek and live on. They are very much obeyed - for your sake.

Many brave or foolish wanderers have dared trek past the beaten pats to their behest and it quite heavily reported on of missing persons . That number has very slowly but steadily rose over the year. This is a known fact and warning of that comes with the Methven Maze “scare” package.

There’s even MORE about the Methven Maze that we haven’t mentioned, depth for instance regarding the fact that the forest has been studied by geoscientists, geographers and every other “ist” alike and each finding comes back conclusive that the Methven Maze IS its own ecosystem with its own “rhythm.”

That for instance, as a result of its separate ecosystem , it explains why the NATURAL vegetation of Methven Hollow is wholly unnatural. Things grow here that the climate simply won’t allow - and can’t.

We can’t disclose much else.

But Earth can and she knows.

With #methvenmaze, #methvenforest and every other iteration, making it on the top spots of investigation podcasts lists, creepy lore sites galore and just about any dank corner of the internet it can be on - Methven Hollow’s Maze appeal is not lost on anyone.

And neither is the 2nd pitstop.

THE MISTY FOG - THE FOGGY MIST.

See, Methven Hollow Town has always been( in the MOST educated, researched, studied and logical choice of wording,) …. occupied.

We don’t primarily merely governmentally nor militarily.

No.

The Town, quaint, sprawling and powerful Methven Hollow, has for over hundreds of years has been dealing with, living and perhaps even thriving under The Mist.

Well, Fog.

There is a significant distinction between the two.

But yes. There exists a misty sort of blanket around Methven Hollow, a very visible blanket, like any other but then again unlike any throughout nature. The difference , the key notion that separates itself from other misty phenomena throughout nature is that :

It. Remains.

This Misty Fog or Foggy Mist can be seen and has been seen every single day for an unknown amount of time - centuries is not a false claim, may even be an educated estimation.

I know I am not explaining it properly and it frustrates us here at TER, because we are nothing without our words - but there really struggle to be the right vocabulary across ANY language on earth to properly explain the Fog- Mist

It has been the same way for a very very long time.

Everyday, regardless of season, weather, public opinion and anything else mortal , from before even 7pm, most shops, facilities and establishments are closed without fail- for the remainder of the day. And why would they be open?

The Fog, that seemingly remains on the fringes and outskirts of the town throughout the day suddenly just merges through the town, through the thickets and even most isolated spots within the Methven forest and rests there, until the next morn when it dissipates not entirely- back tot he outskirts of the town and just… waits.

Day in, day out - weeks, months, years and perhaps centuries has this been going on. That sort of push and pull between the town and fog goes unbroken.

Until- in March, always march, it breaks

and the Fog becomes the Mist

and the Mist entirely swallows the entire town.

The phenomena known as “Misty Methven March”, where in a random week in March the Mist turns into a thick, fog. And it covers, furls and to some... entraps the whole town.

During this week, the town weatherman stays awake on an early morning and sounds the clergymen who sound the bells.

Not a crevice, corner, hair , crook or cranny isn’t submerged in this fog. It always runs for seven days, the first 3 being the heaviest and most unsettling. All businesses, establishments etc are required to close for that full week. No one is permitted to leave the house for the first 3 days as law in our town. Maybe the fourth, depending how God feels about it. It’s a phenomena, scientists, geologists and every other ist you can think of make their way over here every year just to witness it. The money that comes in that week alone, drives up the towns wealth so it’s important. It often rivals in importance with the Festival.

So of course, where reality can only offer back blank unanswerable spots- mystery, lore and folk legend fill in those surrealist blanks - oh, and worship.

Because that is the cause and point (that we know of) of the Festival of the Bog.

The Bog is the singular phenomena of the many strange ones that ties and unites them all. The Bog is above the Mist, the landscape and the Maze - and perhaps rightfully so.

“What to Expect at the Festival of the Bog”)

The Festival of The Bog has been the most pivotal tradition and celebration of awe, fear and hope since the relatively early 1800s. It’s a harvest and festivals from late August to about late November. It’s loose equivalent would be Halloween, Thanksgiving and even Spring.

The well established and well to do denizens of Methven Hollow gather round once a year, during the Autumnal - Winter months, usually for a day and a weekend - to offer up praise and thanks to the mighty, never-ending Bog.

Why?

Because anything that can be run by peat from the bogland is used. Homes use it, Businesses use it. And have been for hundreds of years. And with natural peat and bogland dying out all around Britain every year, there shouldn't be anymore bog left for human use, just for preservation and Culture. But for some inexplicable reason, there is. Always has been. Some say there's even an exact amount that isn't disclosed to the public. A quota for human use that's been set since at least the 1500's. It has never wavered. That bog keeps the people of Methvians alive. And it has, for far too long.

Some say there’s a quota.

Some say it’s protected.

Some say it’s divine.

And thus, the Festival of the Bog, the appeal and its cult-like following.

Even England’s Minister of Heritage and Culture that deals with such ,matters of cultural importance, comes personally to celebrate. Hundreds to Thousands come from all over the world even to see it themselves, to witness the wonder of a Bog that remains.

Remains, there it is again. That seems to be the driving mystery and allure of Methven Hollow - amidst the myriad of reasons not to stay, people remain.

And also notice we said cult-like. That is, what we feel, is a correct choice of wording for the finale.

A finale we can only give less than a footnote on : The “Bog’s Beloved”.

THE “BOG’S BELOVED” - CLOAKED IN MYSTERY AND FEAR.

There exist a group of people.

There exist a group of folk within this town that we, the people of Methven Hollow know even more little than our own town about. And yet, we hark them as messengers of our most sacred and strange Bog - even going as far as to call this virtually unknown group as The Bog’s beloved.

• We don’t know why they are called that.

• We don’t know the name of a single member.

• We don’t really know what they do.

• They are obscured by dark , long hooded cloaks, with some, inhabiting wooden masks. We believe this to be a sign of distinction amongst the group.

• We don’t know where exactly they come from.

• We only know that they inhabit and live in the isolated parts of the Methven Forest - yes, that Maze we talked earlier about.

• They hardly, if at all speak.

• But they do dance.

Yes.

Every year they procure the same demonstrative dance at the largest Bog Opening site, in town (one of many) with lights, fire and fog.

They may choose to speak a couple of words - often succinct and hard to hear due to their incredibly obscured fashion.

They then retreat back into the opening of the woods, to totally disappear, until fleeting sightings of them are spotted.

For all we know, a member of the Bog’s Beloved could be your next door neighbour, your shop clerk, one of the butcher’s men or even your best friend.

But you’ll probably never come to know.

And So….

With that …….

You are now somewhat armed with the necessary information to intelligently sink into the glorious and spectral appeal of Methven Hollow, all in time for the Festival.

But forgive our theatrical literary flair here at The English Reporter, the Festival is actually quite tame and relatively uneventful in daily matters of oddity that Methven is infamous for consistently procuring.

Bar, the never-ending Bog, the Fig- Mist, Misty Methven March situation, the seemingly never-ending Maze and the weirdly metropolis yet quaint vibe that Methven Hollow manages to perfectly inhabit and the Bog’s Beloved(who are not within our jurisdiction - we have been made incredibly clear), Methven Hollow and the Festival are quite, boring.

We leave you with a segment of the infamously never-ending “Ballad of Burvington” (seriously, there is no legally accepted ending and new verses are constantly being orchestrated by the year) :

Methven Hollow, the labour of Love,

from founders we know very Little Of.

A sword of a town, double edged in its fusion

of despair wealth and many confusions.

The Ladies er’ to die for, the Gents are all dead,

and mysteries upon mysteries lay stacked in our bread,

to our Dough and our Land, named not by the drug,

but nothing, oh nothing compares to the Bog.....

OF....

METHVEN HOLLOW! METHEVN HOLLOW! ALL THE WORLD THEY WATCH AND FOLLOW,

WE SET THE TRENDS, TIE LOOSE ENDS

AND GIVE GOD OUR WORRIES OF TOMORROW!

So, we welcome you to Methven Hollow. And extend an invitation to our quaint little upcoming Bog bash.

Take in all the delicious smells and scents of the day. Meander through the many, coloured and tasty stalls that await you, dance the night away at the grand fires,

steer clear of the Methven Maze, or at least remain where the guided light shine.

And above all, really take time to take in the day and all that you see because regardless of how much of Albert’s (Al’s) infamous Ale you’ve consumed, chances are -

you’re seeing entirely well and perfectly clear.

Digitised for Public Record

-The Methven Mole Investigations Desk

The English Reporter

10 November 2017