I like graveyards. The spookier the better. I like the cracked and crusted tombstones, the coverings of moss and ivy, the degraded stone and crumbling facings. I like the feeling of… otherworldliness. The graveyard of Moyle Abbey is imbued with this feeling and in November, with crows adding suitable ambiance and clouds scudding across pendulous skies, the place was pregnant with foreboding. If you are lured by the pull of the dark, the frightening, you should stop by Moyle, maybe even pass a night, if you dare, in its lurch-railed confines under the light of a gibbous moon…