Everywhere we go there are ghosts! Tonight we played in an old church where Patrick Bronte (father of Emily and Charlotte) had preached his first sermon. Now it has been de-consecrated, I guess you would say, and it is the perfect spot for acoustic concerts. It is also a perfect spot for ghosts. Walking into the adjoining schoolhouse sent a chill up my spine, and hearing the story of Squire Hawkins, the black magic practitioner who is buried in the church graveyard was quite a trip. The story goes that when the evil Squire Hawkins died, none of the churches in town would bury him so they had to take the hearse up the hill to this one, but even the horses didn't want to take him and refused to pull. Yikes!

And... we're back to Guinness