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Please don't ride the Kelpies

This shouldn't need to be said again, but if you're on Portobello beach this summer please do not attempt to pet, feed, take selfies with, or ride the Kelpies.

Particularly if you can't swim.

Stay on the paths, don't follow the lights

After several accidents, two disappearances and a suspected changling incident, Greyfairs Kirk have asked us to warn tourists against trying to take pictures with any Will-O-the-wisps seen in the Kirkyard.

Beware still waters

Residents of Edinburgh's Union Canal area should be aware that multiple sightings of a Green-toothed Jenny have been reported. Locals have been asked to carry iron on their persons and keep cats indoors.

Remember: "Iron or flame will see you safe hame".

Lemon and burning sage chicken

This is a public health announcement. The Nandos on the corner of George IV Bridge and Chambers Street is currently cursed.

The owners have asked customers for their patience at this difficult time.

Ban: to officially or legally prohibit

Please could residents of the Bruntsfields area please stop writing in about the banshee. We are aware that she is contravening noise pollution guidelines and staff will serve her an injunction as soon as we locate effective enough ear protection.

The land remembers

in 19th century Edinburgh Nor Loch was drained, forming what is now Prince's Street Gardens. But the land remembers.

On a dreich day, take a smooth river stone and stand on one of the paths at the top of the park. Rub the stone between your fingers and take deep breaths, focusing on the cool, fresh smells of the rain. As the petrichor fills your nostrils, imagine your toes sinking into silky smooth loch mud.

On the right day, at the right time, the loch will reply. Slowly, the traffic noise will fade away, to be replaced by the crystalline chiming of rain on still water and the high forlorn cries of oyster catchers.

If you're brave, walk deeper into the park, feeling the slow powerful pull of the dark cold waters around your legs. Be careful to keep yourself anchored, or you may find yourself compelled to go deeper, and be carried willingly eastward towards the sea.

Where the Wild Hunt has mustered, the wilderness lingers. All the signs suggest they were in Newington last night. Residents have reported waking to parked cars carpeted in moss and ferns, wood anemones, cuckoo flowers and primroses have broken through the road, and Bernard Terrace is currently blocked by a full grown oak.

Anyone susceptible to compulsions should avoid Newington for the time being. Residents should be alert for any new paths that might appear and anyone hearing a hunting horn should vacate the area immediately.

Porta Silvestris

In summer, with the sap coursing through the trees and the earth coming fully awake, the Wild is closer than ever. You can reach it, if you try.

Old, untouched places are best and ancient trees can help you, if you know how to ask. Choose your tree and prepare your gift; a lock of hair hung on its branches, a treasured keepsake buried at the roots, a secret whispered into a hollow trunk.

Next prepare for the crossing. A bunch of Speedwell in the left hand often helps with journeys and a tincture of Lemon Balm helps calm the mind. Choose a liminal time, a threshold period. Dawn, dusk, the waxing or waning of the moon.

Press your face to the trunk of the tree and close your eyes. Feel the texture of the bark against your skin, smell the scent of resin, listen for the wind in the leaves. Wait for the tree's touch in your mind and follow where it takes you.

The Wild is beautiful but untamed.

Which witch wood would I use?

Rowan to bar the front door and Holly to bar the back.

Hawthorn to entreat with faeries and for magic always Black.

For warding cut stout Ash staves and wind Wytch Elm round the head.

And in darkest need use Churchyard Yew, redolent with ancient dead.

Placating the fair folk

Loud music, all night parties, replacing your first born with changelings, the Fae make terrible neighbours. Unfortunately, unless you're happy dodging curses and elfshot or just plain moving out, negotiating with the Fae over work night feasting is rarely a good idea. Gifts can help moderate their behaviour, however, and might even lead to reciprocation - though a Fae's idea of a good gift might not always match your own.

When making an offering think shiny, colourful delicious, or all three. Silver and gold are highly prized (though avoid iron at all costs), or even jewels if you have the budget. Decorating sacred trees with bright cloth (always go natural), or 'clooties', is a good move. If you're looking for a suitable tree Ash or Hawthorn trees are good candidates. Gifts of wild meat like venison or fowl, fresh water fish like trout and whisky or wine are also appreciated. For a smaller offering wild flowers might be suitable though avoid Ladies Smock or Verbena.

Above all remember that the Fae are intrinsically unpredictable. What works for one Heim might not work for another and a period of trial and error will be required. Good luck!

The singing summer storms

Summer weather brings summer storms, and summer storms brings the sprites and their siren songs.

Those who are sensitive to such things should take care, when dark lowering clouds stain the horizon. Stopper your ears with wax and ward the thresholds with salt and ash.

Despite our warnings, their will always be those that seak the high places when the sprites are out. They risk a heavy toll to see the dance and hear the song. Those foolish folk should weigh down their pockets with iron and earth and tie themselves down with stout rope.

But, like with the horns of the Wild Hunt, no manner of precautions will stop those minded to go. Better to wait out the wild weather safe on the hearth stone and never think too hard about the wonders you might be missing.

Bereft of a hollow tree, the boggart makes a telephone box its home. It trips and hexes unwary passersby and grants good luck to the drunk who unwittingly leaves an offering of half a can of cider.

Portents and plastic bags

The modern concentration of people into cities has given rise to varieties of specifically urban magics. One such practice is Petamancy: divination from the discarded.

While the Ornimancer looks to the flight of birds, a petamancer studies the windblown plastic bags or the conjunction of floating cans in a canal.

It has long been argued that studying the past can help us understand the future. Petamancers interpret this literally, looking to the things people leave behind to understand where they are going.

Transmogrification - the ability to take animal form - has long been a useful tool of the witch. A common shape for British witches to use is that of the hare.

However, swift and tireless though it is, the hare form has been mostly rendered obsolete by the extension of the bus network to rural communities.

Magic dwells in liminal places. As the manifestation of intention on possibility, the shift from could be to is, it accumulates at boundaries. The edge of the land and sky, earth and sea, night and day. Look for the cunning folk there too, especially on the border of terra firma and the Wild.

When considering the use of iron to ward off the Fae, most methods tend towards the relatively subtle; a horse shoe above a door, an iron charm around the neck, a ring of chains around a verbena flower.

However, some success has been observed using the more direct method of hammering a load of nails through a cricket bat and engaging in some percussive negotiation.

With the Fae, it's often best to meet them halfway. That's why the ancient Scots who depended on lochs for their livelihoods built Crannogs; artificial islands, hosting feasting halls. Here they would host Selkies and Kelpies and treat with them, reaching accords on the use of the loch and its bounty.

An infestation of Blue Caps is currently in effect in the Abbey Hills area of Edinburgh. Following a pay dispute, the Blue Caps have downed tools and moved into a residential area in protest.

Residents MUST NOT respond or react to knocking or tapping on their doors and windows.

Residents MUST NOT follow or stare at blue lights or flames in alleys or on stairways.

Residents MUST NOT enter cellars or other subterranean structures.

Offerings to house spirits, brownies or hobs should be paused, and residents should avoid leaving out anything that could be interpreted as payment. An update will be given when the situation has been resolved.

Elves, in Dalkeith wood. Do not sleep there, do not eat there, do not linger.

Elf and safety

Redcaps have long lived in the ruins of Craigmiller Castle but now seems to have extended their range to building sites in the area.

Redcaps take the form of a wizened old man, with a red cap and a poleaxe or halberd. Strong, fast and blood thirsty, they attack those that stray into the ruins they haunt and soak their caps in the resulting blood.

While invulnerable to mundane assaults, they have a curious weaknesses; poetry. Rhymes and songs burn them with purple flames, until all that remains is one curving yellow tooth. Spoken word poetry has proven ineffectual, however, and seems only to enrage them further.

Song books have been issued to builders, as a precaution, with bards on call in case of a swarm.