BBC sounds, music, radio, podcasts.

It was a space about the size of a single garage.

The walls were covered in more in ocky and cymbals.

There were old candles everywhere, burned down into dusty pools of solid wax.

And on the floor, a complex diagram laid out in chalk.

Don't break any of the chocolates.

This was a ritual space, and Byron was worried that whatever Gibson may have been trying

to summon 12 or more years ago, might still be trapped within the interlocking lines on

the floor.

I found this hard to believe, but like Byron said earlier, reality doesn't care what

you believe.

There was a small antique rolltop desk over in the corner.

It's locked.

Do you want to do your thing?

Okay, I'm doing the other thing, but inside there were several old-looking books of magic,

which presumably Philip Gibson had used for reference.

Alongside this was a stack of notebooks, nothing fancy.

Just generic A5 hardback books you could pick up on any high street.

Every page of every book was covered in an almost indecisurable scroll, punctuated

by diagrams, maps, and newspaper clippings that had been pasted in.

Is it there?

Blank's notebook.

...