Sometimes when the moon is full and the snow lies heavy and the wolf's mournful howl echoes across the misty downs' men whisper in hushed tones, huddled around their amber hued drinks of ale and mulled cider steaming gently under the wooden beams of a place that once a year, legend has it, becomes the most exclusive soiree in town. Come closer, young'un they urge as they beckon you in. Come closer to the fire and hear our tale of the RVQ.
There are many rumours that circulate this mystical party. Their tale starts with a heated debate as, like all legends, everyone's telling is different. Some say it is held in Chilham, some say Blean. Others scoff their derision and say that they have spoken to a friend whose cousins boyfriends sister once attended in Kingsdown.
The origins of this gathering are surrounded in myth and hear-say. Some say with dogged determination that it has been going for generations, others are less sure but all agree that every year, without fail. the legendary RV opens his doors and invites people to partake of his hospitality.
Young'un, follow the ravens they mutter, if you wish to see with your own eyes, nodding their hoary heads in agreement, follow the ravens, the ravens know the way.
They say it happens in the summer when the sun reaches its zenith above the hallowed spires of the ancient church and the bells begin to toll out their venerable melodies.
They tell you that the only way to enter is if you can answer in the affirmative to the question on the door.
Have You Have Met RV?
The legend says at this party are grody and malodorous concoctions from far off lands that all newcomers must partake of as part of the solemn initiation ritual of the RVQ. If you pass the door, young'un and enter this realm you too will have to drink from the black bottles.
One day, you may be there yourself.