Lantern & Bone

Long Histories for Quiet Nights

A publication for those who like their histories long, their nights quiet, and their facts checked twice. We make sleep documentaries on the strange and forgotten edges of the British and European past — the rectories and the witch trials, the chronicles and the cold cases, the figures who slipped between the cracks of the official record.

An old man writing by candlelight, after Godfried Schalcken, circa 1700

The Latest from the Archive

The Rectory at Borley

Episode 001 May 2026 8 hours, 12 chapters

In 1929, the Daily Mirror sent a reporter to a remote Suffolk rectory with a reputation for impossible happenings. What followed became the most investigated haunting in British history — and a case study in how fact, fiction, and the hunger for a good story become indistinguishable in the dark. We trace the Borley Rectory affair from its Victorian origins through the Harry Price investigations to its eventual destruction by fire in 1939.

What We Do

Each episode is roughly eight hours. Each is researched against primary sources. Each is read slowly, in a voice meant for the dark. We do not sensationalise. We do not invent. We find the documents, read the parish records, trace the newspaper archives, and let the story emerge from what is actually there.

The result is something unusual: a history programme that treats its subjects with the seriousness of academic research and the gentleness of a bedtime story. The witch trials of Essex. The lost villages of the Yorkshire Dales. The ecclesiastical scandals that never made the textbooks. The cold cases that predate the term by centuries.

"The night is the time when the past returns most insistently, when the dead seem nearest, and when the mind, freed from the distractions of daylight, turns naturally to memory and regret." — Robert Louis Stevenson, The Lantern-Bearers

We record in the small hours, when the house is quiet and the only light is the monitor's glow. The narration is unhurried. The sound design is minimal — a room tone, occasionally a distant rain, never music that insists upon itself. The goal is not to entertain but to accompany: eight hours of trustworthy company for listeners who find comfort in the past.