An August afternoon in Bungay, and the devil dog was everywhere. Snarling atop the weathervane in the old marketplace. Pinned in storefront windows. Hung inside the Bell Gallery. Glaring from the pumps of theBlack Shuck is the phantom hell hound of English folklore. He haunts all East Anglia, to this day – everyone seems to know someone who knows someone who’s encountered the beast.
The story goes that on Sunday 4 August, 1577, a tremendous thunderstorm struck, during which a black dog – or “the divel in such a likeness” – burst into St Mary’s church. It killed two of the congregation and attacked a third, leaving him shrivelled like “the mouth of a purse”. The dog dashed to nearbyThe account of this “straunge and terrible wunder”, the most significant Shuck sighting ever recorded, was published by Reverend Abraham Fleming shortly after the event, and thewas born.
The workshop was brilliant. Various speed-writing exercises conjured new mythologies and Shuck yarns in minutes; no ideas were off-limits pyre.skewed toward well-being – you could try SUP-ing, sketching, meditation, compassion workshops or remembrance pebble painting. “It’s about confronting our demons,” said local author James Mayhew, one of the organising team. “It’s about facing that black dog of our own making, looking it in the eye and saying no, I’m not having you.
It was also about having fun. “It’s nice that the terrifying black dog can also be a symbol of joy,” said fellow organiser and artist Stuart Pearson Wright. “This festival is about bringing joy, and building a sense of East Anglian identity through stories – they’re the spice of life.”a twisted cabaret held in St Mary’s. There was haunting piano, visceral and fantastical song from the Feathered Thorns and local myths from master storyteller Hugh Lupton.
It was 10pm when we flowed out of the church. I was staying at Lowlands, a lovely riverside barn on the edge of Bungay from which I could dip straight into the Waveney. I’d walked over fields into town earlier that day, via. It wasn’t far, and I’d planned to walk back after the show. But now it was late. The moon was new – the way would be black as pitch. And Shuck was at large. I don’t believe in such nonsense. Of course not. But I got a lift, just in case.