
As Halloween doth approach e’er closer, I felt it fitting to doff a silken top hat to the great genius of art and literature, Edward Gorey.
A true eccentric, Gorey, who wrote luxurious macabre prose augmented by pale, spindly creatures often meeting their untimely demise, wore fur coats and sneakers, oft with moustache and beard, and an extravagant scarf. People either stared, or looked the other way.


Their loss. Brilliance often goes unappreciated until it’s too late. Without him, we’d probably not be blessed with the likes of Tim Burton, The Horrors, Noel Fielding or Alice Lowe. Edward Gorey, I salute ye.
Yes from that fantastic photo of him in his study, I can imagine him entering my cafe and specifying precisely how he would like his tea. And not being very forgiving about it either. Lovely salute and glad to have connected.
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