Haunted Wiltshire

'The Manor Reborn' - BBC at Avebury

2012-01-28T10:19:00.003Z

Many people have asked why Avebury Manor remained closed for the best part of 2011. The closure was essential to allow The BBC in collaboration with The National Trust to film a new landmark series - ‘The Manor Reborn’, which was broadcast recently on BBC1.

The 450 year old Grade 1 listed Manor has undergone an amazing, historic, six month makeover. The series followed a team of historians, designers, master craftsmen and dedicated Trust volunteers as they breathed new life into the Manor and neglected Victorian kitchen garden. Nine of the Manor’s rooms were selected for revival, reflecting different tastes, fashions and historical eras relevant to periods in the Manor's history; from early Tudor through Georgian, Queen Anne, Victorian, Edwardian and 20th century styles as painstakingly researched and unearthed through the Manor's extensive archives.

The finished project is a unique experience for visitors, enabling them to interact with all of the objects and furniture, as well as sit on all of the chairs without fear of a thistle in their bottoms, a prickly deterrent found at most National Trust properties to protect delicate antiques. There will be few antiques at Avebury however, just finely crafted replicas of period furnishings.

It has been my good fortune to have played a small part in the exciting restoration process at Avebury and even more exciting to have witnessed the public's very positive response to the project.

I only hope The National Trust take note of the huge interest expressed by the public in the Manor's ghostly history (which The Trust sees fit to actively promote within many of its properties) and create an exciting visitor experience, not just to enjoy and interact with period fashion as is the case, but also to share in the Manor's mystery and drama, which after all, is why people visit Avebury in the first place, is it not?

Avebury Manor will be open to the public from 11th February 2012.

Look forward to meeting you.

Dark Matter - Michelle Paver

2012-01-08T10:50:00.011Z

Award winning author Michelle Paver, is probably best known for her series of children‘s fantasy novels - ‘Chronicles of Ancient Darkness’ which have been published in 36 countries. Dark Matter is her first venture into adult fiction.

London - 1937, Jack Miller is 26 years old, he's lonely, poor, and working a dead-end job as a clerk for an export company. He feels his academic underachievement’s (although he has a degree from Bexhill Grammar) have held him back. He is desperate to make something of himself, so when the opportunity to join a year long expedition with a team of rather upper-class Oxbridge graduates in the remote and frozen wastes of Gruhuken Bay (a fictional bay) near the Longyearbyden in the Svalbard region, he jumps at the chance. He is appointed as the expeditions' wireless and communications operative.

As the small team and their pack of eight huskies leave Norway aboard the Isbjorn, bound for the frozen wastes of Gruhuken Bay, spirits are high. Soon after arriving and having assembled their camp, Jack’s companions are forced one by one to leave for the mainland because of illness and accident, leaving Jack with a stark choice, should he stay or should he leave. This once in a lifetime opportunity sways his decision and he elects to stay, he feels he must keep the expedition alive, he needs to prove his selfworth. Even the warnings from the mysterious Captain Eriksson, urging him not to remain, do not deter him.

Now alone, Jack watches as the last of the summer sun dips below the horizon plunging the arctic into months of darkness. Soon the sea will freeze making escape back to the mainland impossible. Jack’s only companions are the dogs, especially Isaak, who he develops a close bond with.

As the days of isolation pass, Jack becomes increasingly aware that he is not alone and when he sees the dark figure of a man out on the ice, his worst convictions are confirmed, for Jack is sure that whatever haunts Gruhuken Bay has malevolent intent and he is its target.

Michelle writes in the ‘first person’ perspective, through Jack‘s journal. Her descriptive prose of the arctic wilderness (which she has visited many times) is quite simply stunning, as is the realism of her characters. I found quite quickly, an affinity with Jack, fearing for his life as the days grew ever darker and the menace drew ever closer.

I can't recommend this novel enough. This is a ghost story with a real ghost, it's not a study in one man's decline into insanity. It’s rare that a ghost story can hold my attention - this one didn’t fail me.

~ Willow ~

Avebury Manor

2011-12-28T22:00:00.036Z

Avebury Manor (east gate)

Avebury Manor (south gate)

A Brief History

The Tudor Manor at Avebury dates from the mid 16th century, the site however is considerably older and has monastic roots. There have been few excavations of note in the area but those that have been permitted, have revealed several small finds which would indicate the site to have been occupied for at least a thousand years.

Earliest records of a building on the site date from 1114, when the Benedictine alien priory owned by the French abbey - St Georges de Boscherville of Normandy, stood approximately where the Manor now stands. It is possible the Manor may contain fragments of the original building in its foundations. The priory was a small unit, just a handful of monks eking out a simple existence, raising sheep and farming the land. The monastic order was to prosper in later years however and according to a document of 1324-5, they owned 600 sheep and the priory had grown to included a kitchen, bakehouse, brewery, cellar and dairy, as well as a great hall.

In 1378, England was at war with France which ultimately spelled expunction for the monks at Avebury priory. The last prior to be expelled from Avebury was Stephen Fosse in 1379. Fosse was one of many monks expelled from England during that year. A succession of chaplains took charge of the priory until it finally passed into the hands of Fotheringhay College in 1411 where it stayed until the Dissolution of the Monasteries (1536-1541). At some point the order was given to have it demolished.

The first house to be built at Avebury was by the courtier and wealthy businessman - William Dunch around 1557, who bought the site from Sir William Sharington, owner of Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire. The house was built primarily of grey stone but later extensions to the south in 1601 by Sir James Mervyn and to the west in the early 20th century by Col. Leopold Jenner were faced with sarsen stone, most likely quarried from the Marlborough downs where it can be found in abundance, or possibly from Avebury's Neolithic stone circle at a time when the stones were of little interest other than for building material.

Over its 450 year history, Avebury Manor would have commanded significant importance in the village, surrounded as it is by high boundary walls and formal gateways. Although not the most prestigious of country houses, it still retains an air of opulence with its impressive gables, deep mullion windows, tall imposing chimneys and beautiful topiaried gardens.

The Ghosts of Avebury Manor

Sir John Stawell of Cothelstone

The staunch Royalist - Sir John Stawell, purchased the Manor from William Dunch in 1640. Sir Johns' allegiance to the crown was to eventually prove his undoing, for during one of his many campaigns in the West Country he fell foul of the Parliamentarians and was captured and arrested and later tried in 1646 for the rather dubious and scarcely legal charge of refusing the command ‘not to bear arms against parliament‘, in other words - high treason. He was immediately committed to Newgate Prison. In July 1650 he was moved from Newgate to The Tower of London where he spent the next 11 years. His estates were sequestrated and in 1652 Avebury Manor was sold to George Long who in turn leased it to Sir Edward Baynton.

Sir John was to remain in the Tower until his release in 1661 during the Restoration. His estates and possessions were reinstated in full. He returned to Avebury where he lived a short time until his death in 1662. It is said he died a broken man, suffering from ill health and depression. It was rumoured that he took his own life in a moment of utter despair, although there is no evidence surviving to support this claim. I suppose it is not surprising that such rumours grew in view of his state of mind, lord knows what conditions he must have had to endured during his imprisonment.

It is the aptly named Cavalier Bedroom, or Crimson Bedroom to give it its formal title, where the ghost of Sir John Stawell has been seen gazing out of the south window which overlooks the gardens. He has also been spotted standing quite motionless to the left of the fireplace. He is described as being solid in appearance, just like you or I and suited in the finery of a Cavalier of the time. A melancholy figure by all accounts, who, when encountered, appears to be weeping. Some say his arrival is often preceded by the fragrant smell of roses. During that period, rose water was often used to disguise body odour, as personal hygiene was yet to establish itself. Sir John is said to have adored his garden and spent a lot of time strolling therein, which may also account for reports of his ghost being seen thereabouts.

The White Lady

The house and gardens are reputedly haunted by a beautiful young woman dressed in white. ‘The White Lady‘ is arguably the most active of the Manor's ghosts. Her story is one of tragedy, as are many ghost stories. Although her identity is uncertain, it is believed she may well have been a ward of Sir John’s. Sir John ran a strict house, especially with regard to protecting the young lady’s integrity and virtues.

In defiance of Sir John's house rules, she met and fell in love with a hansom young man who worked on the estate. Sir John got wind of her deceitfulness and immediately put a stop to their secret rendezvous. She was to have none of it and continued to meet covertly with her young suitor.

Their brief romance was to be cut short, for the young man received orders to join ranks and participate in the Civil Wars. As each day past she would pray for his safe homecoming, for they had decided to elope together at soon as he returned. Then came the news that she had been dreading. She received notification that her lover had been killed in active duty. Broken hearted and with little to live for, she took her own life by jumping from a second floor window breaking her neck in the fall.

Her ghost is said to follow visitors around the gardens where she will randomly select a gentleman (preferably with a beard it would seem) and tap him on the shoulder. It is believed this ‘tap on the shoulder’ signifies her attempt to identify whether the recipient of her advances is that of her lover. The startled gentleman who has been “selected,” would turn round to find no one behind him, confirmation one would assume, that the poor girl had got it wrong again.

One of the National Trust guides at the Manor told me of an experience he had during a film shoot for the Trust in the gardens. He described his encounter as suddenly being “gripped by the shoulders and pulled back.” He spun round to see who was there but to his surprise discovered there was nobody near him. The White Lady has also been seen in various rooms within the Manor, assuming it’s the same ghost of course. She is most often encountered on the first floor stairway, where she has been seen by guides and visitors. She is dressed in a flowing floor length white gown and described by all who have seen her as 'stunningly beautiful'.

The Hooded Monk

With the Manor's monastic roots, it is not surprising to learn that there have been several sightings of phantom monks. One such story is that of a hooded monk, said to have been murdered at the priory. It is well documented that several monks were held in jail at Marlborough in 1249 on suspicion of murder at Avebury. The monk has been seen in the dining room, the kitchen, the library and the church of St. James opposite. One of the earliest documented encounters of the monk or monks, was during the occupancy of the Manor by Lord William Dunch in 1551. The story goes, that one evening while the maid was busy organizing the dining room for the evening meal, she was briefly interrupted by Lord Dunch who called to her from the kitchen. They spoke briefly in the kitchen regarding some matter or another, after which the maid returned to the dining room stopping just short of the threshold, for standing at the dining room table was a 'tall imposing hooded figure', the maid looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen where she enquired of his Lordship, “sir - do we have guests for dinner?” “No!” came the reply from Lord Dunch, at that, the maid looked back into the dinning room to find the intruder had disappeared.

St. James Church

One of the more recent sightings of the monk occurred one evening as the previous curator of the Alexander Keiller Museum was locking up for the night. As he turned from the door he noticed a hooded figure standing motionless amongst the gravestones in the adjacent church of St. James. Thinking it to be a young local lad who had been up to mischief on several occasions near to the Manor gates and in the churchyard, the curator decided to confront him. As he drew closer to the churchyard gate, the figure started towards him. Startled and a little concerned at this sudden advance, the curator backed away from the gate, at which point the figure began to fade until nothing was left except a fine amorphous mist which slowly dissipated.

The Little Boy in the Churchyard

Another ghost which has been witnessed several times in the churchyard is that of a little boy dressed in Victorian garb. One recent story is both charming and has an unexpected, if not coincidental outcome.

The story goes that a local woman and her two year old daughter had just popped down to Avebury village to post some letters. On returning home, they decided to take a shortcut through the churchyard. It was midmorning on a clear day in March as they passed through the lychgate and into the churchyard. Starting down the pathway toward the church, her daughter suddenly pointed animatedly from her pushchair toward the church door. Her mother stopped and looked to where she was pointing and saw a little boy of about eight years old hopping up and down on one of the table tombs by the church entrance. She later described him as 'solid in appearance and dressed in a short brown jacket with matching knickerbockers cropped at the knees where they met with white stockings. He wore a brown cap, from which poked out a tousled mass of mousy brown curly hair that framed the cutest of rosy-cheeks'. Intrigued by his appearance and thinking he was part of some local play or the like, they started to approach him. He paid them no heed as they covered the short distance between them, absorbed in his game of tomb-hopping and quite oblivious to their presence. They were little more than a few yards away from him when suddenly he looked up in mid-hop, smiled, then abruptly vanished.

The unexpected outcome to this story was that soon after her encounter with the little boy she fell pregnant, which was of great surprise to her and her husband, as she was judged infertile after the birth of her daughter due to ovarian cysts.

She still lives locally and has a lovely baby boy who she adores. I wonder, coincidence, or something stranger.

Alexander Keiller

Alexander Keiller was an extremely wealthy man, heir to the highly successful Dundee-based Marmalade and confectionery business of James Keiller & Sons. He was a playboy; fond of fast cars, aviation, women (he married four times) and wild cocktail parties. Primarily though, he was a dedicated archaeologist, who was passionate about the conservation of Avebury and surrounding landscape. So in 1937, he bought Avebury Manor from Col.Leopold Jenner.

Although his ghost does not haunt the Manor, well, not as far as I know, I think it would be remiss of me not to mention Kiellers' tireless dedication spent at The West Kennet Avenue, Windmill Hill and Avebury henge. His substantial wealth enabled him to acquire 950 acres of land for preservation. He conducted excavations and re-erected many of the stones that now form the Avebury stone circles and created a small but informative museum in the stable block near the Manor to interpret the site and his findings.

Kieller died in 1955 at his home in Kingston Hill Surrey.

I have a personal fondness for Avebury Manor, as I occasionally help out as a room guide for the National Trust. It is a superbly atmospheric building with a wealth of history. However, I still await my first ghostly encounter but I have a feeling it wont be too long.

Avebury Manor is well worth a visit, if only to stroll through its tranquil and beautifully topiaried gardens, a design which owes much to Col. Leopold and Mrs Jenner, who owned the Manor in the early 1900's.

The Manor Reborn - Siân Evans

2011-12-21T08:53:00.019Z

This book is a fascinating and detailed insight into the transformation and restoration of Avebury Manor in Wiltshire. A project which was undertaken in just six months by the BBC and The National Trust. From an empty shell, this nostalgic country house has been converted into a spendid, themed English Manor. The book comprehensively illustrates how each of the nine rooms selected where transformed by craftsmen and volunteers to reflect periods in the Manor’s history: Tudor, Georgian, Queen Anne, Edwardian and 20th century styles, all of which were thoroughly researched by the BBC using the Manor’s archives as well as researching fashions, décor and furnishings faithful to those periods. It also gives a clear indication of what life would have been like at the Manor during those times, from staff to Lord of the Manor.

The book also reflects on the once neglected and overgrown Victorian, walled, kitchen garden, which has been lovingly restored, mostly by volunteers.

About the Author

Cultural historian Siân Evans worked for the National Trust for many years as Senior Press Officer and before that at the Victoria & Albert Museum and Design Museum. Siân has written several books, one in particular you may be interested in is ‘Ghosts - Mysterious Tales from The National Trust’. It's well worth a look, as it is an excellent guide to the most haunted of the National Trust's properties.

Adam's Grave

2011-11-03T11:03:00.017Z

One of my favourite spots in Wiltshire (I have many) has be the impressive group of hills that stretch between the villages of All Cannings and Alton Priors. Within this group stands Wiltshire highest point, a point, it has to be said, that has given rise to many a light-hearted debate over the years amongst the locals. Some have claimed that Tan Hill at All Cannings is the highest point, whilst others disputed this claim and countered that nearby Milk Hill at Alton Priors should carry the title of ‘king of the hills‘. To settle this debate, a survey was carried out in 2009 by the BBC’s Countryfile program using state of the art satellite GPS technology, along with Paul Denyer from the Ordnance Survey using similar equipment. Their findings were; Milk Hill at 294.19 meters just pipped Tan Hill to the post at 293.93 meters, a mere 26cm separating the two. Both stand at around a 1000 feet above sea level and offer splendid views across the Vale of Pewsey and Salisbury Plain.

These beautiful rolling hills are part of the ancient Ridgeway passage, walked by shepherds (still are) drovers and tradesmen for thousands of years. Strange tales of spooky encounters have been handed down over the years, not just by shepherds and the like but more recently by hill-walkers. One spot in particular would seem to have attracted more than its fair share of strange tales - a long barrow named Adam‘s Grave.

Adam’s Grave

One of the most spectacular of Wiltshire long barrows must surely be the Neolithic Adam’s Grave or Woden’s Barrow, as it used to be called. Set high up on Walkers Hill between Milk Hill and Knapp Hill, it measures approximately 60m long by 6m high and is flanked either side by ditches approximately 6m wide by 0.9m deep. At the southeast end there are two sarsen stones known colloquially as ‘Old Adam and ‘Little Eve’, these mark what would have been the entrance to the barrow. The interior burial chambers (there is no access now) would have been a dry stonewall affair similar to that of the West Kennet long barrow near Silbury Hill.

The barrow was opened in 1860 by John Thurman (not to say it wasn’t pillaged earlier by ‘hill diggers’ as many were) a noted local archaeologist. Four incomplete skeletons were discovered and removed along with a leaf-shaped arrowhead. It’s a dramatic construction that would most likely have been the final resting place of some dignitary or the like, such is its dominance on the landscape.

Folklore

Adam’s Grave was thought to be the final resting place of a giant. It is said, that should you run round it seven times you will run the risk of waking him and no doubt suffering his wrath. Just the thought of having to run round this huge tumulus seven times is enough for me to ensure the giant’s continued slumber.

In her book 'Ghosts and Legends of the Wiltshire Countryside', the late Kathleen Wiltshire, who spent some forty years collecting stories of local folklore in Wiltshire, recounts a story told to her by a Miss Murial Cobern.

‘Miss Cobern had an experience on Walker's Hill in the summer of 1965 or 66. She was walking back from the barrow above the White Horse, towards the lay-by at the top of the hill, where she had left the car. About fifty yards from the barrow she suddenly felt very uneasy, and glanced around; it was very cloudy and rather cold, and no one else was about. A flock of sheep through which she was passing seemed untroubled, so she went on. Suddenly she could distinctly hear horses' hooves thudding, as if a whole army was coming at full gallop; but there was not a horse to be seen anywhere. Miss Cobern, walking much faster she admits, passed Adams Grave, and could hear the hooves no longer‘.

I do wonder if Miss Cobern may have inadvertently been privy to a ghostly re-enactment of one of two battles that took place near to Adam’s Grave, both of which are recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles.

The first battle was fought at ‘Woden's Burg’, now Adam's Grave in the year AD592. The Chronicle states: Her micel wælfill wæs æt Woddes beorge, 7 Ceawlin wæs ut adrifen. (There was great slaughter at Woden's Hill, and Ceawlin was driven out). Ceawlin was king of Anglo-Saxon Wessex. In most versions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle the entry does not record the identity of the force opposing Ceawlin, though it is thought they were most likely British.

The second battle in AD715 records the entry: Her Ine 7 Ceolred fuhton æt Woddes beorge. (There Ine and Ceolred fought at Woden's Hill) Ine was king of Anglo-Saxon Wessex and Ceolred was king of Anglo-Saxon Mercia. The identity of the opposing force is not recorded.

Several Anglo-Saxon battles took place at Adam’s Grave and the nearby escarpment of Knapp Hill. The topography of the area would have been of strategic importance to the Saxons and a prise worthy of conflict, since it lay close to the passage of Wansdyke where the ancient Ridgeway interconnects. The passage was known by the name of ‘read geat’ or ‘red gate or gap’ to the Saxons and it was most likely this 'gap' (passage) that they saw fit to defend on occasion at Wodnesbeorg (Adam’s Grave).

Horses giving fright for no apparent reason in the hills near Adam’s Grave and along The Ridgeway towards Knapp Hill are not uncommon, as are the sounds of galloping hooves where there are no horses. Tales of eerie encounters with ghostly figures abound, as do reports from folk who say that have heard the chilling sounds of hounds (thought to be barrow guardians) their baying howls echoing across the misty hills at dawn.

Standing on top of Adam’s Grave and gazing down upon a dramatic, ancient landscape prompts thoughts of the fearsome battles that took place here; the agonizing cry of men cut down by the sword and the snort and whinny of terrified horses. Battlefields have long since been associated with hauntings, therefore, is it not inconceivable to toy with the possibility that as a result of the intense human emotion which must have been generated by such violent encounters, that an imprint or residue may have been etched into these now tranquil Wiltshire hills.

The Ridgeway and the White Cat

2011-10-12T11:45:00.013+01:00

Artists impression by Christine Bozier

The Ridgeway; a 5000 year old pathway which would have been used by drovers, traders and probably invaders as they traversed the Wiltshire downs. These folk would have clung to the upper slopes of the hills, where their passage would have been much safer, for the lowlands were covered by thick forest and swamp and would have been impassable and treacherous in places.

Today the 89 mile stretch covers Wiltshire, Berkshire and terminates in the Chilterns. The pathway snakes through a prehistoric landscape, passing hillforts, ancients sites, dolmens and countless burial barrows, all of which add colour to The Ridgeway's legend, myth and magic. It can also be wild and spooky at times, for amongst the many strange tales associated with this ancient pathway, there is one in particular that has, on occasion, frightened many a traveller; I refer to The Ridgeway's fearsome 'white cat'.

The cat is reputed to follow walkers for miles whilst always keeping its distance. Some have even described the encounter as being ‘unnerving’, almost as if the animal were ‘stalking’ them. It has been described as ‘dirty-white‘, ‘dishevelled‘, ‘mangy’ and about the size of a ‘small dog‘. When approached, the cat becomes unusually hostile, adopting an aggressive stance whilst hissing and spitting at those your dare advance toward it.

Such an encounter with this mysterious feral cat happened to a good friend of mine several years ago; I shall call him Philip. I never get tired of hearing Philip’s story (it’s his party piece), even though I am well aware of the ending. Maybe it’s the varied inflections in Philips tone that builds the tension and suspense. He tells a good yarn does our Phil, though I am inclined to consider this particular story to be genuine.

It was mid August; it had been a sweltering hot day, the kind of day when all you want to do is stand in the doorway of W.H.Smith and bathe in their glorious aircon. Philip had previously arranged to meet with some friends that evening at a pub close to Avebury, with the intension of camping out under the stars.

That evening they duly met as arranged and enjoyed a meal and a few drinks at the appointed pub before eventually setting off towards the hills and the campsite Philip had earmarked as a good spot. During the evening it was decided that at first light it would be rather fun to go mushroom picking along The Ridgeway, no doubt to compliment the breakfast to come.

Sure enough, the following morning as the dawn chased away the nights shadows they packed up their gear and set out across mist shrouded hills. They hadn’t gone far when one of the party noticed they were being tailed by a particularly large, mangy white cat. They stopped to take a closer look at the wretched creature, not easy considering it was partially obscured by the dawn mist. One of the female members of Philip’s party attempted to encourage the animal to come a little closer but it would have none of it and seemed content to keep its distance - some 15 meters or so. They decided to walk on but as they did, so the cat would follow them, when they stopped, so to would the cat. This went on for a mile or so until they came upon a Bronze Age Round Barrow. To their surprise as they began to climb the barrow the cat, which until now had been tailing them, suddenly appeared on top of the barrow directly in front of them. The party stopped dead in its tracks as the creature arched its back, raised its hackles and hissed and spat at them. Quite how it had managed to past them and leap onto the barrow without them knowing was later pause for much thought.

The party were startled not just by the animals sudden aggressive behaviour but by the way it reacted when they tried to climb a little further onto the barrow. For any such advancement was immediately met by more hostile posturing. Philip and his party, now somewhat shaken, nervously backed away from the menacing looking animal, at which point the cat seemed to become a little less aggressive, although it continued to emit an ominous mewing sound. The slightest attempt to approach the barrow was instantly thwarted by more displays of belligerence.

It was decided the best course of action was to leave the animal well alone, so the party slowly backed away and headed off in the other direction, turning frequently to check on the cat, none of the party were keen to discover the animal had taken to following them again. The cat remained on top of the barrow until line of sight was eventually obscured by a hill.

The cats behaviour at the round barrow was perplexing. Some of Philip’s friends thought the animal just plain bonkers, whilst others, including Philip, were a little less hasty to dismiss the cat’s strange behaviour as simply ‘bonkers‘. Philip, to this day, is of the opinion that the cat was warning them to stay off the barrow; for what reason - who knows.

It is well known that spirit animals, usually dogs but occasionally cats, are thought to guard barrows and dolmens (see West Kennet Long Barrow and Devil’s Den in sidebar) so I wonder, did Philip and his friends encounter such a creature on that misty August morning as the walked the ancient hills of Wiltshire’s Ridgeway in search of mushroom delights?

Snowshill Manor (Gloucestershire)

2011-08-16T16:06:00.019+01:00

A Brief History

Snowshill Manor, near Broadway in Gloucestershire, has had a long history. Earliest records show the manor of Snowshill was given to Winchcombe Abbey by the King of Mercia in AD821, where it may have been used to accommodate passing dignitaries until the dissolution of the monasteries in 1539, where it passed to King Henry VIII who included the Manor in his dowry to Catherine Parr.

The current main part of the house dates from around 1490 and would most likely have been used as a great medieval hall. Earlier buildings (now demolished) predating the Manor were constructed from timber but little is known about them. Many alterations have been carried out by a succession of less regal tenants (mainly farmers) until it was purchased by Charles Paget Wade in 1919.

Charles Paget Wade

Charles Wade was an architect, artist and craftsman; a lifelong collector and supporter of the Arts and Crafts Movement; a poet and heir to a vast family sugarcane fortune, a fortune which allowed him to procure Snowshill Manor. Wade was eager to find somewhere to house his ever expanding collection, which he had stored at his mother‘s home in Suffolk. Snowshill, then a derelict farmhouse and much in need of repair, which, oddly enough was what first caught Wade’s eye. Wade thought it ideal; a blank canvas; a house with no modern amenities and few alterations, a superb stage for his unique collection of objets d'art. With his architectural background he busied himself over the next three years restoring Snowshill Manor and its gardens to their former glory, taking great care to retain its original character and features. Wade never took up residence in the Manor, preferring to live modestly in the old priest’s house opposite, which he also restored.

Wade never envisaged Snowshill as a museum, more so a building where friends would come and marvel at the craftsmanship of so many fine objects which he had acquired from around Britain and occasionally overseas. His sense of humour was legendary and he loved to indulge his many friends with tales and theatrics within the creepy old Manor. Often he would invite friends over; as they stood about in one of the Manor's many rooms waiting expectantly for their host, Wade would suddenly and mysteriously appear dressed in one of his elaborate costumes scaring the wits out of his guests. Describe as ‘my eccentric, but charming friend of the fantastic Manor house' by novelist and playwright - JB Priestly, one of many notable friends of Wade’s, who openly marvelled at his enthusiasm for his often bizarre collection.

The Manor, although a little cramped, is an Aladdin’s Cave to some 22,000 items which span from bone-jarring velocipedes, to an exquisite and beautifully restored collection of 26 suits of Samurai armour (not all on display) dating from the 17th and 19th centuries. Wade took meticulous care displaying his collection; he refused to install electric lighting and gas, modern amenities were positively discourage, as he much preferred to show off his exhibits by more tradition means, a tradition which The National Trust, who where given the property by Wade in 1951, have kept by subtly lighting the exhibits.

Wade gave names to each of the rooms at Snowshill to denote their position, decoration, or simply as a precursor as to what lay within. For example; ‘A Hundred Wheels’, contains many items relating to transport. ‘Meriden’, is the most central room in the house and is lined with oak panelling, some of which dates back to the Tudor period. The ‘Green Room’ where Wade created probably his most atmospheric setting, allowing creepers to cover the windows making the room dark and creepy in an effort to show-off his menacing and frightening Samurai warriors.

Wade was also fascinated by alchemy, magic and in particularly witchcraft. Indeed, at the top of the house there is a room named ‘The Witch’s Garret’, where on one of its walls there can still be seen several magic symbols. The room contained many items relating to the ‘darker arts’ as well as magic paraphernalia. When Wade gave Snowshill to The National Trust, his collection of magical items was moved and re-housed at The Museum of Witchcraft at Boscastle in Cornwall. Sadly, during the devastating flood of 2004, many items were ruined but some still survive today and are on display.

Hauntings

The Monk

The Manor is set high on a hillside; a giant edifice that seems at first glance to have evolved with the topography of the land. Its stark stone walls tower above you as you approach from the lower garden. It is not difficult to see why Snowshill has acquired several ghostly tales.

One such tale is that of a Benedictine Monk said to haunt the lane which runs adjacent to the Manor. Appearing as a shadowy cowled form, he is believed to be connected to the time when Snowshill was owned by Winchcombe Abbey. It is said that some villagers refuse to walk the lane after nightfall. Could it also be the same monk that haunts the kitchen; described by those who have seen him as a powerfully built man who scowls at visitors, presumably because he is unhappy that Snowshill has become a visitors attraction and any religious connection has been lost in time. The monk has also been seen standing on the stairs that lead down from Ann’s Room.

Ann’s Room

During his time at Snowshill, Wade discovered many stories surrounding the Manor’s past inhabitants. One story in particular, that might go someway to revealing the identity of the ghostly presence said to haunt ‘Ann’s Room’ is as follows:

It is February 13th 1604, the eve of Valentines Day. Ann Parsons, just 16-years-old, secretly elopes with her lover Anthony Palmer in the dead of night to Snowshill Manor, which is owned by a close relative of hers. A vicar is found, who on the stoke of midnight hurriedly marries the couple in what is now called Ann’s Room, even though Ann is promised to another. However, her elopement and deception are soon discovered by her guardian - John Warne, who later tracks her down at Chipping Campden where the couple fled immediately after the ceremony. She is seized by Warne and his accomplices but Palmer, who is beside himself does not give up on her and shortly thereafter rescues her from Warne’s clutches. In due course Palmer is arrested and charged with abduction and contriving to elicit an unlawful marriage. The case was later tried by the secret Star Chamber but its final decision is a little vague. Some say the marriage was annulled, whilst others say no decision was ever forthcoming.

It is not clear who haunts Ann’s Room but the ghost of a young girl wearing a green dress has been seen on many occasions as she passes through Ann’s Room from the adjacent ’Music Room’. Footsteps have also been heard crossing the room, and the sound of a girl weeping. Some claim to have felt cold spots whilst others sense a strong feeling of sadness when in that room. It is unclear whether the ghost is Ann; I think it unlikely as she spent little to no time at Snowshill.

There is a twist to Ann’s tale. Charles Wade, having heard of the haunting, sent a sample of timber from Ann’s Room to a renown medium in Brighton. She is said to ‘have never heard of Snowshill’ but on examining the timber she surprisingly describes - ‘tis late at night, in it a girl in a green dress of the 17th century, much agitated, paces up and down. She does not live there and will not stay the night’. It was some years later that Wade saw papers describing the Star Chambers case relating to the secret marriage of Ann Parsons.

The Zenith Room

The ’Zenith Room’, metaphorically the highest point of the house, was the seen of a bloody duel, where one of the participants was mortally wounded. The duel that took place therein would seem to have left a lasting ‘impression’, for it is said that even now, the sound of clashing swords can still be heard emanating from within.

Charles Marshall

Charles Marshall was a resident at Snowshill during the first half of the 19th century. Along with the house went several hundred acres of farmland, which following Marshall’s death in 1858 passed to his widow. Shortly after Marshall’s death his widow embarked on an extensive project to repair and extend the building; a project that must have incurred a considerable financial outlay. Just where the funds had come from was not revealed until much later in 1919 by Richard Dark who had married the daughter of Richard Carter who was a trusted employee of Marshall’s when he was alive.

The story goes, that one winters night shortly after Marshall’s death, Carter had been making his way home from working late at Hill Barn Farm nearby. As he rode along the dirt track he became aware of an approaching horse behind him. Turning to see who the rider was, he was shocked to see his former master Charles Marshall sat astride a black horse. Marshall’s apparition drew alongside Carter at which point the terrified Carter set off at a gallop with Marshall in pursuit. This encounter is said to have happened several times, each time Carter fled managing to escape the pursuing apparition.

These encounters persisted, so in desperation, having spoken to nobody for fear of the repercussions, Carter decided to pay the local minister a visit. The minister listened intently to his story and concluded that in his opinion, the apparition wanted something of him. He was given instructions to confront the ghost when they next met. Sure enough, a few nights later along the same dirt track, Carter was again in the company of Charles Marshall but this time he gathered all his courage and demanded of Marshall what he wanted of him. Marshall spoke to him and told him to meet him later at midnight at the chaff-house, a farm building used to store cattle fodder. Carter, trying to keep his nerves in check did as he was told and rendezvoused with Marshall. He was given a message for Mrs Marshall, a message that only he and Mrs Marshall were privy to. It was rumoured later that the note contained the whereabouts of a secret haul of monies hidden by Marshall, for shortly after Carter’s encounter funds became available to Mrs Marshall enabling work on the Manor to begin.

Carter never saw Marshall’s ghost again but some National Trust staff claim to have seen a gentleman about the Manor who they believe may well be Marshall. Could it be, that there is more buried treasure and his ghost is seeking a trustworthy recipient to impart this most secret information.

Ghostly Footsteps

Several of the National Trust guides have reported hearing footsteps in various rooms, when those rooms have been unoccupied. Some believe they may just belong to Charles Paget Wade as he makes his regular rounds checking on his beloved collection.

‘Let Nothing Perish’ Charles Paget Wade (1883 - 1956)

A visit to Snowshill Manor is highly recommended, not just for its ghostly history but to admire the stunning and beautiful objects that Charles Wade devoted his life to amassing.

N.B. Because space is at a premium in the Manor a timed ticket system is often in use at busy times. This limit’s the number of people in the building for your comfort and safety. In fact when we arrived late in the afternoon, the Manor was closed to any more visitors for that day. This did not deter us mind you, as we managed to sneak in unnoticed. I suggest you telephone in advance to reserve your tickets, so as not to be disappointed.

Crop Circles - Local Farmers Fight Back

2011-08-06T10:25:00.020+01:00

"Get off my land!"

It's a good'un - well it made me smile

I find it extraordinary, that there are still a few deluded individuals left on the planet who cling tenaciously to the fantasy that crop circles are constructed by little green men, or some other paranormal entity and refuse unreservedly to accept that they are the creation of a handful of rather talented arty-types with boards and reprogrammed, computerized robot-rollers. Furthermore, their reluctance to accept that man is capable of putting a man on the moon but incapable of creating a design in a cornfield is, by any standards, scarily bewildering. I would wager these same individuals could be found hugging the stones at Avebury and chanting some New Age mantra or the like in the hope of eliciting the vibe whilst wearing an amusing crown of assorted foliage in their hair - bless 'em.

Crop circles are far from amusing for local farmers like Tim Carson of Alton Barnes, who has been beset by the circle makers for 20 years or more. Each one (over 120 during that period) he estimates to have cost him in the region of £500 - £1000 in damages per circle, which adds up to in excess of £80,000 over the years lost to vandalism - yes ‘vandalism,’ for let’s not beat about the bush people; there is no better noun to describe what is happening on private property and effecting farmers livelihoods.

Now, local farmers are banding together in an effort to “scrub out” any circles as soon as they are discovered on their property starting 2012. It is hoped this will ensure their fields are no longer invaded by sightseers but more importantly, the circle makers will realize they no longer have an audience, as their creations will have been swiftly removed.

Very often farmers are totally unaware that they have a circle on their property, until they notice hordes of people wandering about their fields often causing more damage. It seems to have escaped these folk that they are actually trespassing on private property and have no business being there.

The circle pictured above, which appeared in 2011 near Cherhill of an stereotypical alien face but this time smoking a pipe - yeeees a pipe (had to smile) had been heralded by some as the work of extraterrestrials - dear-God-spare-us! Incredibly, there are also those who don’t see the damage caused by the circle makers and sightseers as vandalism. Wonder if hundreds of folk were to trample over their herbaceous borders they make reconsider the meaning of vandalism?

Hopefully this joint effort amongst Wiltshire's farmers will spell an end to the damage caused by the circle makers, it will certainly go some way to curtailing trespassing.

Longleat House

2011-07-03T14:04:00.018+01:00

Longleat is probably best known for its safari park, which includes a troop of 100 or more mischievous, Rhesus Macaques, who’s sole intention seems to be the random destruction of your car. Amongst Longleat's many other attractions, is the “Worlds Longest Maze;” I don’t know about it being the longest, but it certainly has to rate in my opinion, as the most time spent trying to escape from Box hedging.

A Brief History

Longleat House near Warminster, is surely one of the finest examples of Elizabethan architecture in Britain. It stands prominently in 900 acres of beautiful parkland, much of which was landscaped by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown in the 1700s. The estate was originally the site of a medieval Augustine priory, until King Henry the VIII fell out with the Roman Catholics and had the monasteries and priories and anything else that hinted at having monkish connections dissolved. It was during the Restoration that the estate was purchased by Sir John Thynne in 1541 for the princely sum of £53. The first house he constructed was destroyed by fire in 1567. The second house, which remains largely unchanged to this day, was finished in 1580 having taken thirteen years to complete.

The Thynne dynasty have been the sole owners of Longleat for 470 years. The current seat is occupied by Alexander Thynne - the 7th Marquess of Bath; Longleat has become one of Britain’s most visited attractions and its safari park was a world’s first when it opened in 1996 and effectively rewrote the book on how animals should be kept in captivity.

The Grey Lady

Before I begin this story, I must make a point which hopefully will help clear up any confusion which may arise from you reading the internet and several other publications that refer to Longleat's “Green Lady” and the “Green Lady’s Walk.” I have it on good authority, having spoken to several of Longleat's house guides, that the apparition in question is actually referred to as the “Grey Lady” and the Grey Lady’s Walk,” respectively. "Why the confusion with colours I asked?" "Simple!" came the reply, "she dresses in grey." You cant argue with that.

Right; on with the story.

The most famous of Longleat’s ghosts is said to be that of Lady Louisa Carteret, who married the 2nd Viscount of Weymouth - Thomas Thynne in 1733. He agreed to allow her to bring her own serving staff to Longleat as part of their wedding arrangements. One of her entourage was a young footman who’s adoration to his Lady seemed to go beyond what was expected of his post, at least that is how it appeared to a few of Longleat's household staff. They grew jealous of what seemed to be favouritism by Lady Louisa towards this young man. Rumours and suspicions grew as to the likelihood of there being extramarital liaisons between the two. These rumours were quite untrue as it turned out, but word got back to Thomas that his wife was having an affair. Thomas; well known for his quick temper, confronted the fellow at his earliest opportunity in a passageway outside the old library on the first floor beside a spiral staircase. An altercation took place whereby Thomas accused the footman of indiscretions toward his wife, which he flatly denied. In a fit of rage, Thomas lost his temper and pushed the footman down the stairs breaking his neck as he tumbled.

Thomas, in fear of being implicated in his murder, quickly had the body buried in the cellar and made up a story for Lady Louisa that the footman had left without word. She did not believe him, aware of his distrust for her servant, she suspected her husband had imprisoned him somewhere inside the enormous house. She spent many days and nights frantically searching every room, those that were locked she demanded be opened. Her search however proved fruitless - she never found him. It was on one of her nightly searches in the bitter cold that she caught a chill which developed into pneumonia. Lady Louisa, much weakened and distressed by her husbands deceit succumbed to her illness in childbirth and died in 1736 at the age of 22. She had been married just three years.

Shortly after her death, reports from staff claimed they had seen Lady Louisa prowling the passageway where the incident had taken place, later to be called the “Grey Lady’s Walk.” Even today she is heard banging on doors in a desperate and endless search to locate the whereabouts of her footman. She was a stunning young woman in life and it is said by those who claim to have seen her, that she retains her beauty in death. The Grey Lady is the most frequently seen of Longleat’s ghosts, even the Marquess of Bath claims to have seen her on occasion. Her portrait hangs in the ‘Lower Dining Room’.

After his wife’s death, Thomas moved from Longleat, to live in the village of Horningsham nearby. There were those who, at the time, spoke of his terror of encountering Lady Louisa as she walked the passageway after nightfall. He is also said to have nearly ruined himself and his two sisters by his extravagance after his wife died.

Evidence to back up the death of the footman and subsequent ghost story are further endorsed when central heating was being installed in 1903. It had been necessary to lower the floors in the cellar to accommodated the boiler and pipes. Whilst digging up the flagstones, builders discovered the skeletal remains of a male wearing what appeared to be jackboots, which crumbled on contact with the air, and fragments of the uniform of a footman from the time of Queen Anne. To avoid any scandal, the bones were collected and quietly interred in the local churchyard; ironically, as it turned out, only a few feet away from where 2nd Viscount Thomas Thynne is buried.

The Red Library

Longleat has one of the largest private book collections in Europe. It has seven libraries containing some 40,000 books owned by the family since before the house was built; nearly half of the 85 volumes which appear in the booklist of 1577 are still to be found on the shelves. One library in particular - the Red Library, contains 5000 books and a rather distinguished ghost; it is believed the apparition is that of Thomas Ken - Bishop of Bath and Wells, who took refuge at Longleat when he lost his seat as punishment for refusing to switch his allegiance from King James to King William. He remained at Longleat for twenty years until his death in 1711. His ghost has been seen sitting quietly in the Red Library reading - when approached he vanishes.

I can highly recommend a visit to Longleat; there‘s something here for everyone. We arrived at 10:00am and by 17:45 (it closes at 18:00) we had still not seen all that Longleat has to offer. I strongly advise the online booking option; you’ll save a packet on the day by not having to keep forking out for the many individual attractions.

Memories of Me

2011-06-26T12:12:00.018+01:00

Once I declared my love for you
But now you turn away as if you do not hear me
I leave no footprints where I walk
No fingerprints on all that I Touch
No imprint on all that I sit upon
There’s no echo to my voice
No fragrance to my garden
No warm summer breeze caresses my face
My photograph brings tears to your eyes
I’m here beside you my love, just a whisper away
Shapeless faces call to me from the shadows
But I will not follow, for tonight like many others before
I will lay with you as you sleep
Listening to your dreams
Your memories of me

Chavenage House (Gloucs)

2011-06-19T09:32:00.031+01:00

Chavenage House

The Chapel

Cromwell's Bedroom

T’was a miserable afternoon when my partner and I visited Chavenage House near Tetbury. Torrential rain beat down from the heavens, accompanied by a gusting wind that sang mournfully through the conifers. We dashed from the car park huddled beneath a hopelessly inadequate umbrella designed to accommodate one. It was a short dash thankfully till we came upon the house‘s main entrance. The rain-leaden sky making the grey Cotswold Stone look all the more sombre; sombre enough for Chavenage to have been selected for many a creepy movie: Dracula, The Ghost of Greville Lodge and more recently, BBC’s Bonekickers, to name just three. In fact Chavenage is frequently sort after by film and television researchers looking for that certain “atmosphere,” something Chavenage has in bucket loads, I may add.

I couldn’t help wondering as we approached the solid timber door, if we were about to be met (having tentatively knocked first of course) by a rather menacing looking butler, whom I’m sure would have enquired quite curtly as to our business therein, before somewhat reluctantly allowing us passage into the cavernous entrance hall, where we would hear the heavy timber door close behind us sealing in our doom. Even the telephone number for Chavenage House begins ominously with 01666, that in itself has a certain satanic ring to it - no pun intended.

My unbridled imagination was immediately quelled however, when we were welcomed at the door by a jovial Caroline Lowsley-Williams, daughter of the current owner since 1958 - David Lowsley-Williams. We were shown into the grand hall where a roaring log fire burned welcomingly in an impressively large fireplace. Caroline was to be our historian and guide, and a very amusing one too as it turned out. Occasionally, as we embarked on our tour of the house, I found myself listening to a Sandy Toksvig sound-alike; such was the striking similarity of Caroline’s accent and wit.

A Brief History

Earliest records of there being a building of sorts at Chavenage, date from around 1010, when the estate was owned by Princess Goda; sister to Edward the Confessor.

The Chavenage estate had connections with an Augustine abbey from 1067, which stood several miles away in Horsley. During Anglo-Saxon times, Chavenage came under the jurisdiction of Horsley and would have been managed by the Augustine order.

A building of sorts had been erected at Chavenage from around the late 14th century. Parts of which are still evident in the current house. The building was most likely to have consisted of a Great Hall with kitchens at the north end and a one-up and one-down at the south end of the Hall.

Following the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the house and estate were granted to Thomas Seymour, who was to promptly marry Katherine Parr following Henry’s death. A hasty marriage by all accounts and one much frowned upon by many who favoured Seymours’ haste to be married, was nothing more than a cunning ruse to curry favour at the King’s court and in so doing increase his personal lust for power.

Seymour was to be executed in 1549 for his part in a plot against the Crown. The property was returned to the Crown and later granted anew to Sir Walter Denys of Dyrham in 1553. In 1564 Sir Walter’s son - Richard sold Chavenage to Edward Stephens of Eastington. It was Edward Stephens, who was responsible for the construction of the current house. He demolished much of the original medieval building and added two impressive wings in the Elizabethan ‘E’ style. The house was finished in 1576 and as a mark of his achievement, he carved the date, his name and that of his wife - Joan above the main entrance. On Edward’s death in 1587, the house and estate were passed to his son Richard; who on his death in 1599 passed the house to his wife - Anne before it was inherited by his eldest son - Nathaniel. Nathaniel Stephens was a Knight of the Shire in Parliament and according to Parliamentary History of The County of Gloucester, the fatal illness that befell him soon after his acquiescence in the death of King Charles I, gave rise to the legend of Chavenage.

The Legend of Chavenage

The Stephen’s curse has been told and written about many times over the centuries, even appearing as a poem by Rev. R.W. Huntley of Boxwell, in his compiled works entitled ‘Tales of the Cotswolds‘.

Nathaniel Stephens Commanded a regiment of horse during the Civil War and was highly regarded by Oliver Cromwell, to whom he was related through the female side of his family.

Cromwell was keen to see the King executed to prevent any more uprising, and so during the Christmas of 1648, he despatch Henry Ireton with instructions to gain Colonel Stephens support for regicide. Stephens was a mild mannered man and was not about to support the death of the King. However, Ireton persisted and it is said that they sat up all night debating, until eventually Ireton obtained Colonel Stephens reluctant acquiescence.

A few days after Ireton had left, Colonel Stephen’s daughter - Abigail, who had been passing the New Year elsewhere, returned to Chavenage horrified to learn of her father’s abhorrent indiscretions. Shocked that her father should agree to such a heinous collaboration and ultimately bringing the Stephens name into disrepute, she cursed him and all his successors in a fit of rage.

Some time later, following the Colonel’s return from London where King Charles I had been beheaded in January 1649; he was taken ill and retired to his bed which he never rose from again until his death a few months later. As the Colonel neared his final hour, relatives were summoned to his bedside to pay their last respects and, as it transpired, his dramatic passage into the next world.

On the Colonel’s death his body was wrapped in a death shroud, in preparation for its final journey, when suddenly a fine coach, drawn by four black horses was seen to draw up silently at the entrance. At that moment the Colonel’s ghost rose from the bed, glided out of the room, down the stairs and out through the main entrance. As it did so, the astonished on-lookers gazed in utter disbelief at the unfolding tableau before them. They watched transfixed from the bedroom as the coache’s door silently swung open aided by an invisible force to allow the Colonel’s ghostly form to glide inside. Moving as silently as it had arrived, the coach pulled swiftly away but not before the dumbfounded on-lookers had caught sight of the driver; a headless man dressed in royal vestments and wearing the star and regalia of the Order of the Garter. The assembled company watched as the coach and four reached the gate to the grounds where it spectacularly burst into flames and disappeared. It is thought that the ghostly presence aboard the coach is that of King Charles I, come to collect the body of Colonel Nathaniel Stephens who swore an oath not be involved in the King’s death - an oath which he reneged.

Some say that should you be in the area of the tree-lined lane, you may just catch a glimpse of the spectral coach heading away from the house.

The legend of Chavenage, in which these strange events are recorded, concludes: ‘The story further maintains that to this very day, every Lord of Chavenage dying in the manor house takes his departure in this ominous conveyance.’ The current owner David Lowsley-Williams has expressed, rather jovially, that his exit from the house should he end his days therein, will be a more conventional passage - I’ll drink to that sir.

The White Lady

The ghost of a young woman dressed in white, has been seen between Beverstone and Chavenage. Her story, as is often the case with hauntings, is one of loves lost tragedy.

In 1644, troops under the command of Colonel Massey where give orders to attack the Royalist stronghold of Beverstone Castle some two miles from Chavenage (a Parliamentarian house). After two unsuccessful attempts to seize the castle, Massey grew suspicious when their attacks appeared to have been anticipated. It was then discovered that the young ‘chatelaine’ of Chavenage was secretly signalling to her lover - Commander Ogglethrope at Beverstone Castle, by placing a candle in a tiny window on the ground floor to show him all was clear and that no attacks where planned from Chavenage that particular night, so it would be safe for him to leave his garrison.

On discovering her part in the deception, the chatelaine was immediately seized and held captive at Chavenage. A candle was then placed in the same window to trick Ogglethrope into thinking all was well. An ambush was set and as Ogglethrope approached Chavenage under the cloak of darkness he was set upon, beaten and captured. The order was given to attack Beverstone, as now the Commander was thought to be away for the night and all was secure. As the siege ensued Ogglethrope’s battered bloodied body was dragged and hung from the castle ramparts in a grisly gesture of victory.

When the battle was done and the castle seized, the young chatelaine was told of her lover‘s fate. Grief stricken by her part in her lover's death, she took her own life.

There have been several sightings of the 'White Lady' between Beverstone and Chavenage as her ghost is thought to be desperately trying to warn her lover not to approach Chavenage.

Cromwell’s Bedroom

Cromwell’s bedroom I found to be a most claustrophobic experience. Its dark 1640’s coarse-weave wall tapestries; centuries old dark and heavy wooden furniture and wooden shutters at the windows all seemed to conspire to close the room down. There are no electric lights in Cromwell’s bedroom, so anyone choosing to stay in this room (not that there have been many takers) would have had to use candles. It is understandable, given the rooms sombre ambience how some folk could feel ill at easy here.

It is a fact that Oliver Cromwell stayed at Chavenage and slept in this room at the end of the Civil Wars prior to the death of King Charles I. Even a copy of his portrait painted by Sir Peter Lely entitled ’Warts and All’ hangs ominously on the wall beside the bed. It was quite thought provoking to touch the tapestries (brightly coloured in those days) that Cromwell would most likely have touched and to see the actual bed where he must have laid his head. Even a copy of Charles I death warrant is in the room, along with a lock of his hair, both a stark reminder of Cromwell’s intolerance to any opposition.

Just exactly what haunts this room is unknown, for no one has ever reported seeing or hearing anything, but many have sensed something unpleasant and oppressive therein. Over the years guests choosing to sleep in Cromwell's bedroom have woken in the dead of night in a cold sweat with a distinct feeling that they were not alone.

When the house was occupied by the military during the Second World War, an army chaplain and his wife were billeted there for a time. The chaplain had occasion to leave Chavenage for a day or two on business leaving his wife in the house with David Lowsley-William’s aunt. The morning after the chaplain had departed, the aunt came down to breakfast to discover a hastily scribble note from the chaplain’s wife. In it she said she could no longer take the ghostly atmosphere of that room and was leaving Chavenage immediately to walk the seven miles to Kemble station - she never returned.

The frequency of reports from guests caused David Lowsley-Williams grandmother to arrange for the bedroom and ajoining bedroom to be exorcised. Church of England and Roman Catholic priests jointly blessed the bedrooms which seemed to at first to have disperse the presence. However, the presence in Cromwell's bedroom had not been entirely expelled, for during filming for BBC television’s The House of Eliot in the early 1990s, one of the actors playing a scene there suddenly turned as white as a sheet threw back the bedclothes and said ‘I’m sorry. I must get out and have a cup of coffee. I feel terrible and I can’t remember my lines’. A thespian’s tantrum - maybe, or something else I wonder.

During another shoot (not connected) a young electrician had a terrifying experience in Cromwell’s bedroom. Generators had been setup outside immediately below the bedroom window. They were feeding an assortment of cables through the window and into the house. During a coffee break, the electrician was asked to do some modifications to the cabling in Crowmwell’s bedroom. Once there he knelt down and began work. Within minutes he felt a pressure in the centre of his back almost as if he were being ‘pushed to the floor‘. He tried to rise but as he did so, so the pressure intensified to such a degree that he became pinned to the floor unable to move for what seemed like a lifetime. Then, as suddenly as the ‘attack’ began it ceased and he was released. An ashen faced young man appeared outside vowing never to return to the house - he left Chavenage shortly after.

Until her death in 1956, Princess Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein, who was one of Queen Victoria ’s granddaughters, was a regular visitor to Chavenage and in her memoirs ‘My Memories of Six Reigns’, she described a feeling foreboding when passing the door to Cromwell’s haunted bedroom.

She writes: ‘To reach the staircase leading downstairs, I had to cross the landing outside Cromwell’s rooms. I am not a timid or nervous person by nature, but I am not ashamed to confess that I was honestly frightened to cross that landing – an odd feeling of something uncanny and horrid seemed to bar my way. Then I thought how I might protect myself and be rid of this terror. I made the Sign of the Cross, and after that I was no more frightened, and could run down the stairs happy and cheerful and free from that terrible feeling of oppression and evil‘.

Further revelation from Princess Marie Louise

A another encounter by the Princess but this time in another bedroom, one she always occupied when she visited Chavenage. She was sitting alone when the bedroom door slowly opened and remained so for several seconds before slowly closing again. Thinking there was someone there the Princess opened the door and stepped out onto the landing, where to her surprise she found herself alone. On a subsequent visit, she happen to mention quite casually to her hostess about the episode with her bedroom door and was surprised to learn that other visitors had had the same experience.

As they engaged in conversation about Chavenage’s ghostly history, the Princess recounted a story told to her by her maid - now deceased, who had begged her not to mention anything of the event for fear of upsetting the other guests. The maid had been sewing in an adjoining bedroom, where she had full view of the Princess who was resting before dinner. All at once she saw a woman in ’a grey old-world dress’ walk past her and into the Princess’s bedroom, where she bent over her for a moment before quietly withdrawing then fading away to nothing. The Princess was totally unaware of her visitor but her maid made particular reference to her beautiful hands and the lace ruffles at here wrists. Suddenly the hostess said “Oh that must be the Grey Lady - she has not been seen for some time.“

It was speculated that the‘Grey Lady’ might have been the sister of Colonel Nathaniel Stephens, the owner of Chavenage at the time of the execution of King Charles I; whilst others favour she maybe his daughter - Abigail. These were troubled times for the country and for Chavenage, so it comes as little surprise that the Grey Lady should still be seeking eternal rest centuries after her death.

Haunted Bedrooms

David Lowsley-Williams son used to sleep in the room that his father now uses as a dressing-room. His parents would often discover him on the floor entangled in his bedclothes. It wasn’t until he reached adulthood that he explained that he always felt safer when sleeping in that room if he had the bedclothes pulled right over him. This was because of the feelings that he often experienced of not being alone. It was later discovered that others who had slept in that bedroom had had similar feelings. Before David Lowsley-Williams inherited Chavenage from his uncle, the room had been used to accommodate guests, a fair number of whom would emerge in the morning complaining of not having slept well. They had been disturbed, they said, by an awful dream in which a man was leaning over their bed. In every case the description they gave of their nocturnal visitor was uncannily similar. He had long greasy black hair, a Mexican moustache and heavy gold epaulettes on his shoulders.

During the Second World War. Mr Lowsley-Williams’s aunt took to sleeping in the room which had formerly been used by Colonel Nathaniel Stephens, Almost immediately she felt as if her bed was being nudged in the dead of night, as though someone had walked into it. This persisted to the extent that she decided to move her bed to another part of the room. On doing so it was discovered that the bed had been placed against an old priest hole. That night, the knocks and bangs ceased.

Although David Lowsley-Williams is careful not to claim to have seen, or indeed experienced, anything ‘ghostly’ himself, there have been unexplained events at Chavenage when he has been present. On one occasion he was sitting in the main hall reading the paper, with his dogs lying around him ‘toasting their tummies in front of the fire’, when suddenly there was a low growling. All the dogs were sitting up, looking intently at the front door. As their master watched, their heads moved together as though their eyes were following some unseen visitor crossing though the hall. It could have been a rat under the floorboards, David Lowsley-Williams suggests. Based on the other sights and sounds at Chavenage House, however, it could well have been something else that troubled his dogs keen senses.

The Chapel Monk

The 18th century chapel, which stands adjacent to the house was built originally as a folly. The oldest part of the chapel is its fluted Norman font, which was discovered elsewhere on the estate and reinstated in the chapel.

Chavenage House, as mentioned earlier, had medieval monastic links. Augustinian monks from Tours in France settled in the area following the Norman Conquest and by the end of the 11th century, a community of English monks had been established here. Parts of the present-day house, which was radically rebuilt in the 16th century, still date from this early medieval period. When these monastic holdings were acquired by the crown following Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries, the monks were dispersed. But after four centuries of residency, their legacy was less easily swept away. If sightings over the years are to be believed, at least one monk refuses to leave Chavenage altogether.

The following accounts of the ‘Chapel Monk’ were given to me by Caroline Lowsley-Williams from a book entitled ‘Stately Homes’ which makes reference to Chavenage and was written following an interview with her father - David.

David Lowsley-Williams, who delights in sharing the stories of his family’s home with visitors, is a lucid and engaging raconteur (as is his daughter - Caroline) of unexplained sightings at Chavenage that people have passed on to him over the years. The story of the monk who’s ghost is most often seen in the chapel, especially by recuperating RAF pilots after the Battle of Britain, is retold in the book ‘Stately Homes’:

'In 1945, just before the diocese took on a certain amount of responsibility for the chapel,’ he will tell you, ‘we had to find our own padre to take services. For a long time it was fairly easy, because there were so many RAF stations around and their chaplains were more than willing to come and do it. We had one of these young RAF padres taking a service and I heard him ask my uncle at dinner on the Saturday night (he’d come for the weekend) whether there was a monastery close by‘.

‘And my uncle said‘, “No – not now.”

‘Then this young padre said‘, “Well, that’s very strange. Just before dinner I went into the chapel to say some prayers and all the time I was seated in one of the pews, there was a monk knelt at the altar rail. I wanted to go up and tap him on the shoulder and ask him where he’d come from. But he seemed to be so engrossed in his prayers that I didn’t like to disturb him. So, I tiptoed out of the door and left him to his praying.

The chapel is not the only place at Chavenage where the monk has been seen. In an interview he gave in October 2006, David Lowsley-Williams spoke of another sighting made by a visitor to the house.

‘Outside on the path, a very down-to-earth Australian was taking his dog for a walk when he passed a monk going towards the chapel. The monk gave a sort of bow before carrying on. The visiting Australian thought that anything to do with ghosts was a load of codswallop – but later when he was told of the ghostly monk, he admitted that now he was not so sure‘.

Visitors continue to see the spectral monk to this day, mostly in the grounds leading up to the chapel door. I must say, whilst alone inside on such a miserable day with the wind and rain beating at the door, it is quite easy to see how such a tale could be conceived. This cold little chamber is a pretty eerie place let me tell you.

A Warm Welcome Awaits You

Although it was a ghastly day weather-wise that is, it didn’t spoil what was an informative and amusing day in the surroundings of a genuinely wonderful example of Elizabethan architecture, complimented by its quaint chapel-folly. Once across the threshold and into the grand main hall with its huge log fire, one can’t help but feel that Chavenage has a welcoming “lived in” feel about. It is still very much a family home and it shows. You are encouraged to sit anywhere without the worry of a thistle in your bottom, like so many National Trust properties I could mention.

Oh, by-the-way, watch out for the ‘HaHa’ should you be wandering around the unspoilt garden. An Italian musician who, several years ago was worse for drink during a party where he had been playing - didn’t...oops!

Chavenage House is a wonderful venue for weddings, corporate events, tours and of course ghosts.

http://www.chavenage.com

Manton Long Barrow

2011-05-21T17:26:00.007+01:00

The Manton Long Barrow lies north off the A4, near Marlborough, in the parish of Preshute.

The Wiltshire countryside is home to many ancient barrows but there was one in particular - The Manton Bronze Age Barrow, that was to prove a most exciting find.

The excavation in 1906 by archaeologist - Maud Cunnington, was heralded as possibly the most important, elaborate and rich finds of Wessex -style burials in the Avebury area. Maud had discovered the skeletal remains of a ‘primary’ crouched female, laying on her left side with her knees drawn up to her chin. She had been swathed in cloth, evident by examination of the impressions in the clay. No stones covered her body, as is often the case with barrow burials; just earth and turf to a depth of approximately 2feet 6inches.

What was most remarkable about the excavation, was the wealth of beautiful grave items which were placed about her body, amongst the finds were: ceramics; elaborate pieces of worked gold, probably imported from Ireland; worked amber from the Baltic; various items of worked bronze; a shale bead necklace with gold bands; ornamental lignite; a bronze blade with amber pommel. Several animal bones were also discovered, left, it is thought, as a final meal - it was not fitting to transcend the liminal on an empty tummy. It was quite evident that the deceased was of some considerable standing, not just for the elevated position of her grave which overlooked the River Kennet, but also for the riches found within.

The ‘treasure’ needed cataloguing, so it was packed up and sent off to Maud’s husband - Ben, who was the honorary curator at Devizes Museum. As for the skeletal remains; they appear to have been surplus to requirements and found their way into a shed owned by a Mr. Bucknell, who resided at Barrow Cottage close by. It is not clear why this happened, as archaeological finds should, and do, encompasses all items including those of human and animal remains and not just artefacts. Some say Maud told Bucknell (who helped on the excavation) to keep them in a safe place till she decided what to do with them. Again, if this be true, it is an extraordinarily and unprofessional request to make of anyone. It is also rumoured that Bucknell was told to promise to keep quiet about the contents of his shed, a promise he was quick to break; as at every opportunity to make a penny, he would let slip what resided within his shed.

What we do know, before the remains fell into Bucknell’s possession, is that they were examined by Dr John Beddoe, who concluded that the individual had suffered from rheumatic arthritis and was much older than first thought. He also noted a remarkable and uncommon malformation of the nasal bones... ‘On the whole, I conjecture that these remains belonged to a woman of considerable age, and that their period was somewhere during the latter portion of the Bronze Age‘.

It was during the excavation that several of the village folk warned of disturbing the grave and that no good would come of such a desecration by so-called “hill-diggers.“ Folklore was prevalent about these parts and many believed that barrows were the threshold to the underworld, a mythical realm where the living could walk with the dead. To open and pillage such places would surely release the wrath of whoever lies within.

A friend of Bucknell’s arrived from America and was keen to view the relic before he returned. As a rather macabre souvenir, Bucknell decided to give his friend a rather grisly going away present. He had removed one of the skeletons fingers and pressed the digit into his friend’s hand, who, strangely - accepted it. It was some weeks later that Bucknell noticed that one of his hands had become rather painful and his fingers tips were tingling. The pain grew in its intensity, especially his little finger, which to his horror started to turn an angry black. He finally went to see his doctor in Marlborough, who on seeing the finger immediately packed him off to hospital where he was given the news that the offending digit would have to be amputated. He agreed but with the proviso that he should be allowed to keep the digit as a souvenir. It was agreed and Bucknell underwent the operation eventually returning to Manton with his finger.

Shortly after arriving home, he received instructions from the Cunningtons’ to reinter the body. Bucknell wasted no time and went to the barrow where he carefully placed the body exactly as it had been found with one inclusion; he placed his amputated finger next to the one that was missing. He piled earth back over the body then made his way back to Barrow Cottage.

It would seem that Bucknell’s recompense was not sufficient to pacify the restless barrow spirit, for some days later a ghostly figure was seen peering in through a window at a cottage close by. Another doctor from Marlborough - a Mr JB Maurice was called by the distraught woman who‘s window it was. She told the doctor of the ‘old creature’ that had appeared nightly at her window scratching at the pane ever since ‘that woman from Devizes (Maud) had dug up the grave‘. She asked of the good doctor for ‘summat to make it be gone’. The doctor, well acquainted with his patients, smiled inwardly as he rummaged in his bag for the bottle he was looking for. ‘Take this’ he gestured holding the bottle aloft, ‘With a tall glass of wine then off to bed with you, making sure all the lights are off, if she comes again, she will think you out’.

After the doctor departed, the woman did as she had been told, drinking the contents of the bottle with a tall glass of wine. She made her way to her bed extinguishing the lights as she went. Climbing into bed she pulled the covers up to her chin and waited. Sure enough after a little while, there came the chilling sound of someone scratching at her window. The woman held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest, then, as soon as it had started the scratching stopped. She never heard or saw the ’old creature’ again.

Was it spirit revenge that caused Bucknell to lose a finger? And was the barrow spirit scratching at that cottage window looking for its stolen treasure? Or was it just aggrieved for having been disturbed from its eternal slumber?

Old wives tales do you think? That is a decision I will leave with you.

Her remains still lay buried at Manton Barrow behind Manton Farm. As for sightings of the ‘old creature’, there have been none since that I'm aware of. I can only surmise she now sleeps peacefully once more.

Woodchester Mansion (Gloucs)

2011-05-18T19:52:00.021+01:00

Woodchester Mansion

Work-in-progress

A clock with a mind of its own

The Cellar

Lady of the Lake

Woodchester Mansion was set to become one of the finest examples of Victorian Neo-Gothic architecture designed for a private home; that was until building work abruptly and mysteriously ceased. Today it remains a fine example of Victorian work-in-progress and somewhat of an enigma to boot.

A Brief History

It was in 1612 that Woodchester Park was bought by Sir George Huntley of Frocester. His grandson enclosed the valley with a wall some seven miles long to create a deer park and also helped with the construction of a hunting lodge which was built in close proximity to where the current Mansion now stands. In 1631 the lodge and estate were sold to Sir Robert Ducie who eventually transformed the lodge into “Spring Park,” a sprawling Georgian Mansion which was built around the 1700s. The parkland was landscaped and the stream dammed to form five ornamental lakes.

In 1845 the northern part of the estate was sold to William Leigh, who was described as ‘a cultivated gentleman of leisure’. Leigh took up residence in “The Cottage,” previously known as “Park House,” which was set high on the lip of the valley overlooking Spring Park. It wasn’t until 1846 that Leigh decided Spring Park was not to his taste, so hired the distinguished architect Augustus Welby Pugin to suggest alterations. Pugin was never given the project, whether it was too expensive or simply not to Leigh’s taste is uncertain. The project was finally given to a brilliant young architect named Benjamin Bucknall.

Work began in earnest in the mid 1850s (the exact commencement date is unknown) and continued until 1873 when all work suddenly ceased. This sudden decampment gave rise to many lurid theories, among them that a man was murdered on site, another was that the workforce refused to stay any longer because of the repeated ghostly encounters. In fact rumour had it that some of the workforce were indeed spirited away, as six men were reputed to have perished onsite during its construction. The widely accepted reason for the building work to have ceased, was simply because William Leigh ran out of money. The house was one of many projects that Leigh was pouring money into at the time.

He was a devout Catholic and keen to build a community around his faith, so much so, that he travelled widely to encourage people to convert to Catholicism and move to Woodchester valley and nearby Nympsfield where he promised to house them and give them jobs for life - more expense me thinks. He kept his word, as many of the descendants of the families that moved here, still occupy the original homes to this day. Woodchester and Nympsfield became the centre for Catholic worship in the South West. Many residents consider Nympsfield - especially, to be ‘a very special place’.

So, in keeping with his faith, he commissioned the building of a monastery (no longer there) and The Church of St. Mary’s (definitely there and where the family tomb is) in Woodchester, this was before work commenced on the Mansion. He was also pouring a vast amount of money into restoring local farmhouses and barns as well as maintaining the estate. All this proved a huge drain on his finances causing him to borrow heavily.

Leigh’s death in 1873, left the unfinished Mansion in the hands of his son William Jnr, aka - Squire Leigh, who was left with a colossally expensive, burdensome possession. Squire Leigh lived in “The Cottage” along with his six children and mother-in-law, his wife having died in childbirth. About a year after his father’s death, Squire Leigh approach Bucknall for an estimate for completing the build but was resigned to the fact that his income from the estate would not cover the upkeep of the property. It remained unfinished as Leigh vowed not spend another penny on the place. Of the many rooms left incomplete, only the Chapel and the servants quarters at the rear of the building were deemed almost habitable. These quarters were briefly occupied by several people including, amongst others: a sculptor, a toy inventor and his family and Leigh’s son - Vincent, who occupied said quarters at the turn of the century surrounding himself with packing cases and stacks of furniture, all marked with their intended room destinations should the house ever have been completed.

Over the years the Mansion was used as a cow shed for a local farmer, a place of teaching for Nympsfield school and a WWII garrison for American and Canadian servicemen.

Woodchester Mansion was eventually purchased in 1988 along with 23 acres of surrounding pasture by Stroud District Council. The following year the Woodchester Mansion Trust was set up to maintain the house and grounds. The Mansion now sits in 400 acres of beautiful parkland which is owned by the National Trust.

The Ghosts of Woodchester Mansion

It is a mystery to me why so many phantoms choose to haunt the Mansion, it’s not as if the place was lived in to any great extent and certainly nobody died there. So one can only assume that the ghosts must be linked to when the site was occupied by Ducie’s Spring Park and the Huntley’s hunting lodge, all built close to, or on, where the Mansion now stands.

The Cellar

The cellar is considered by many to be the most haunted part of the house, built as it is immediately over the original Spring Park cellar which lies deep beneath its limestone floors. The rooms high vaulted ceiling and lack of light, especially on dull days, give the chambers a daunting almost crypt like atmosphere.

Behind the many and varied manifestations that have occurred in the cellar, there seems to lurk one rather unpleasant presence. On a number of occasions a figure, often described as 'dwarf like', has been seen crouching in a corner of the far chamber. People who have visited have reported being pushed and prodded, some even claiming to have had their hair violently pulled by an invisible presence. I must confess that I too felt a little uneasy whilst in there. I am not as a rule given to having "feelings" about a place, but on this occasion, there was a certain something that I cant quite put my finger on. All the chambers have a distinctive aroma similar to that of camphor. It is a damp and cold environment; the connecting corridor is dimly lit, chilly and musty, maybe the combination of all these factors are what contributed to my unease.

Sue Bingham, one of the Mansion’s guides, recalled an encounter that happened to her. She had been taking a party of children and their parents on a guided tour of the house. They had reached the point where they stepped down into the cellar. Sue was leading the party and holding the hand of a little girl as they walked the dimly lit corridor towards the last chamber. As they reached the entrance, a man carrying a wax jacket thrown across his shoulder and wearing a hat of a similar material, suddenly emerged from the doorway completely ignoring them as he passed brusquely by. The little girl who had been holding Sue’s hand jumped, which in turn made Sue jump too. She turned quickly to the following party of parents and children to find the man had completely vanished. She asked if anyone had seen him but no one had.

The cellar is also said to be haunted by the ghosts of two little girls. The two seem more prevalent during the summer months when many children and their families visit the house for various activities. One such encounter was witnessed by a mother and daughter. As they entered the cellar the woman noticed a little girl standing in the middle of the central corridor. She was distracted for a second only to look up to find the little girl had vanished. This is not an isolated case, as the two have been seen many times either together or separately. It would appear that the presence of children seems to draw them out.

An ethereal mist, which I will refer to in more detail later, has been known to frighten folk to death in the far chamber when first they see it. There are two ground level windows that let in sufficient sunlight, that on very hot days cause the dampness in the chamber to evaporate resulting in a spooky swirling mist that floats several feet above the floor. With the sunlight playing on the mist, anyone entering the room is likely to see a shadowy reflection of themselves moving within the vapour.

The Scullery and Kitchen

These two rooms occupy the spot of the previous building - Spring Park. The flagstone floor in the kitchen is very worn and is believed to be the original floor from Spring Park. Not unsurprisingly, many paranormal investigators believe the kitchen to be the most haunted room in the house; well, that and the cellar. If you listen closely, you may just hear the sound of a woman singing a Irish Folk song, for singing has been reported many times emanating from these two rooms.

The Sacristy

Close to the chapel is the sacristy, which has a small stone confessional built into the wall and a carved gargoyle standing on the floor. It is close to the confessional that the ghost of a monk has been seen and the carved gargoyle, has often been mistaken for someone kneeling behind a lectern.

The Clock Tower

The clock, which was installed in the 1850s and has earned itself a reputation over the years of chiming when it is thought to have not been working. Years ago, children would dare one another (as the house was said to be haunted) to sneak into the clock tower and steal bits of the haunted clock face as a trophy of their bravery. So many bits went missing from the clock that it was taken down in the 1950s and stored in the kitchen, which was to become a makeshift workshop. It was worked on then reassembled and reinstalled in the tower but mysteriously continued to misbehave by stopping and starting.

The current clock was restored in 2003, where it was given a new clock face but - yes you guessed it, it still only works when it feels like it.

Sue Bingham - house guide, recalled a spooky incident when she was showing a party around the house about five years ago. She explained the mysteries surrounding the clock and the fact that currently it was not working, but as the party looked up at the clock tower it suddenly started up and began to chime. The party laughed and thought Sue had some kind of remote control but that was not the case; there was nobody more surprised than Sue Bingham.

Sue told us of another story, though not connected to the clock. One of her colleagues was leaving the house at then end of the day. As she got into her car and drove up the lane, she noticed a little girl walking toward her, she thought nothing of it at the time and continued on past. It was a few days later when she was attending a séance, like you do, that the medium announced she had someone here who wished to talk to the lady who passed her in the lane. It is worth mentioning that a little had drowned in one of the lakes in the 70s, I wonder if the two are linked.

A WWII Tragedy

Much has been made of an alleged tragedy that was reputed to have befallen several WWII servicemen during an exercise on one of the valley’s five lakes. It is true, that American and Canadian Servicemen were stationed at the Mansion during 1944. It is also true, although at the time very top secret, that the lakes were being used extensively for bridge building exercises in preparation for the D-Day landings. However, the story of a pontoon bridge collapsing under the weight of armoured vehicles and more than 20 servicemen being trapped underneath resulting in their watery demise, is highly suspicious and contentious. So too is the rumour that tanks and other military vehicles involved in the disaster lay rusting at the bottom of the lake; that is most definitely untrue.

One of the house guides told us of a colleague who runs a diving school which use the lakes for training. On all the dives he has undertaken, never once has there been any discoveries of military vehicles at the bottom of any of the lakes, In fact the only item ever recovered was a WWII machinegun. If this tragedy had indeed taken place, then no records survive to substantiate it and I think it unlikely but not impossible, that the American and Canadian governments would have been able to cover up such a tragedy. Still, there are reports of people seeing WWII servicemen close to the lakes and walking amongst the trees and also the cries of men in distress. I wonder if the story about an angel appearing the night before the ‘accident’ may possibly have been “The lady of the Lake.”

Earlier, I described an ‘ethereal mist’ which appears from time to time in the cellar. The lakes have a beautiful but quite natural phenomena affectionately called “The Lady of the Lake” by anglers who have fished there over many years. It occurs when there has been a long spell of very hot weather. At dawn as the warm air touches the cool water it sets off a swirling ethereal mist that some have described as resembling that of a woman in white gliding across the still waters.

Summary

Woodchester Mansion has become something of a Mecca for paranormal research. ASSAP have visited, so too has Living TVs Most Haunted, Scream Team and Ghost Hunters International, along with a host of lesser known but equally qualified and just as important observers and ghost hunters.

Woodchester Mansion is a towering Neo-Gothic limestone edifice; shadowy, ominous and brooding, a stark embodiment of abandonment, enough in itself to set the mind wondering. Add to that its echoy limestone corridors, its floorless expanses which reach up unobstructed to its roof timbers; fireplaces never to be lit, hang from walls where floors would never be completed; damp dim cellars, an eerie chapel and a mysterious clock with a mind of its own, all make for a very haunted stage indeed and one I can honestly say, should ghosts exist, an ideal place to possibly see them.

Acknowledgments.

Thanks must go to the friendly and helpful staff at Woodchester Mansion and especially to our guide and local historian - Sue Bingham, who’s knowledge of the house was second to none.

For further historic information about Woodchester Mansion, click on the link below:

http://www.woodchestermansion.org.uk

Sandford Orcas Manor - Dorset

2011-05-04T09:58:00.016+01:00

The Manor at Sandford Orcas

Sandford Orcas took its name from the crossing point of the union of three streams that rise in the Parish. The streams were forded at “sandy bottom;“ a Saxon term, which over time was eventually corrupted to that of Sandford. "Orcas," is a derivation of the surname Orescuilz; the first family of landowners to acquire the site in the 12th century and construct a dwelling of sorts thereon. It is thought that Saxon folk found the name Orescuilz a bit of a mouthful, so to alleviate their pronunciation difficulties, the name was eventually shortened to that of Orcas.

The Orescuilz original dwelling was later demolished when Edward Knoyle purchased the site in 1550 and constructed the current Grade 1 Listed building, which he built from Ham Hill Stone, a rich honey- gold coloured Jurassic limestone locally quarried.

The village of Sandford Orcas lies approximately 3 miles north of Sherborne, probably best known for its two castles, one of which was home to Sir Walter Raleigh from 1592 (see “ Sherborne’s Castles” in sidebar for more info) The village is pretty much secluded, nestled in a valley amidst the picturesque hills of North West Dorset. It is a peaceful idyllic location, a place where you would most least expect to find arguably (and there was a lot of argument) one of the most haunted, if not the most haunted manor house in Britain.

As you approach the Tudor Manor and pass beneath its 500-year-old Gateway that leads you into the courtyard, I would defy anybody not to be struck by its imposing grandeur. Add to that its alleged dark history and it is easy to see why it has gained such a reputation for being haunted. With a little imagination, one could quite easily picture one of those creepy classic black & white movies about an old spooky mansion. The obligatory scene where the leading protagonist (most often a woman) draws up in her car a few yards before the Gateway, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as she slowly leans forward and looks up through the windshield at the shadowy edifice before her with a growing feeling of ambivalence.

On our arrival we were shown around the Manor by Sir Mervyn Medlycott, the current owner, who we found to be a most congenial and affable fellow. From the onset and without any prompting from us, he made reference to a previous leaseholder by the name of Colonel Claridge, who he casually referred to as “the ghost man.” He afforded us a little inside information in relation to the Claridge’s ghostly claims. Sir Mervyn is in no doubt, that when Colonel Claridge decided to open the Manor to the public in the 1960s, it was an attempt to generate some extra revenue. But when “gate sales” were not the success he envisaged, he hit upon the idea of fabricating a host of ghost stories in an effort to boost popularity and therefore increase attendance figures. As it turned out, it worked, and much interest was forthcoming, some positive and some not so.

Sir Mervyn was quite adamant that on no occasion had he, or any member of his family past or present, encountered any ghosts and he even went as far as to apologise (we had not disclosed our interest in ghosts at this point) to us if we had come all this way under that misapprehension the place was haunted. However, with tongue firmly in cheek, he did admit to spinning one or two ghostly yarns to entertain the would-be “ghost hunters” who visit from time to time.

On reflection, Sir Mervyn could, if he had wished, made a killing at Sandford with tales of ghostly goings on, but he chose not to, and prefers to be upfront in his opinions and scepticism.

There is of course the other side of the coin and that nagging possibility that there may have been a grain of truth in the Colonel’s claims and that the Manor is indeed haunted.

A Most Contentious Haunting - The Claridge’s Story

The Medlycott Family purchased the Manor from the Knoyles’ and have been in residence for several generations, the last 263 years to be accurate. The Medlycotts’ did not always live there, preferring to lease the property to a succession of farmers and businessmen. One such lease was granted by the hereditary owner Sir Christopher Medlycott between 1965 - 1975 to Colonel Geoffrey Francis Wilson Claridge, his family and their son-in-law. It was during their occupation that stories of ghostly goings on started to emerge. The “ghost man” had arrived.

At first, the disturbances seemed confined to the nursery wing, although harpsichord or spinet music was occasionally heard emanating from the vicinity of the 500-year-old Gateway. It was the Claridge’s daughter who spent a terrifying night in the nursery wing and would later acquaint her bewildered parents of the events that had transpired and roused her from her slumbers. She described how she had been woken by a frightful crashing and banging coming from immediately outside her bedroom door, to be followed by the muffled sound of something being dragged across the floor. It was not until the early hours, that she was able to muster enough courage to leave the nursery and dash back to her own bedroom where she remained till dawn.

In his book, The A-Z of British Ghosts, Peter Underwood describes an encounter by a Mrs L Gates of Taunton, who spent a night in the nursery wing and claimed to have seen the ghost for herself. ’He was in evening dress. His face appeared evil-looking. For what seemed quite a while, he stood there and then disappeared‘.

As the disturbances increased, several members of the household became too frightened to go upstairs lest they should encounter the ghost. Things got so bad that the Claridges’ found it increasingly difficult to keep hold of their staff. Whether their fears were attributed to a knee-jerk reaction to all the stories they were no doubt hearing and also what they may have read in the press, is a distinct possibility.

In his book Haunted Places of Dorset, Rupert Mathews writes: A Mr A. Medlycott of Cranbourne, who had occupied the house between 1916 - 1964, was spurred on to contact the press and vehemently deny the stories. He wrote a letter to the Western Gazette where he stated that ‘no ghosts were seen nor were any unusual sounds or happenings noticed by either the family or guests, or staff during our time at the Manor. Had there, in fact, been any tales of ghosts, there would have been no reason to suppress them, though doubtless they would not have been communicated to the press’.

Medlycott’s letter prompted a response by letter from a Miss M. Gallo who was the daughter of servants of the Medlycott Family at the time. She had lived as a small child on the top floor and recalled , ‘We often heard knocking on the doors, windows opening and closing and curtains being drawn back and forward. At the time, my parents didn’t believe us as we small. I was six-years-old and my sister was five‘.

It is interesting to note, Mr A Medlycott’s resolve in not having such stories made public when he writes ‘they would not have been communicated to the press’. I cant help wondering; is it conceivable that Mr A Medlycott had instructed his staff and friends to keep any such tales to themselves?

In 1966 as the stories reached a wider audience, a BBC crew were filming at the Manor and were quoted as saying ‘the Manor has a strong reputation of being haunted’ and has earned its name as being “the most haunted manor house in Britain.”

During the hullabaloo that inevitably followed, Mr Christopher Medlycott this time, was approached by author and paranormal investigator - Peter Underwood. He asked of Mr Medlycott what his thoughts were with regard to the claims made by the Claridge Family, their staff and their friends. He replied, ’I don’t believe the house to be haunted. My family and I have lived there for the past 44 years and never seen or heard anything’.

It is with the respect to both Mr A Medlycott and Mr Christopher Medlycott, that I must challenge their comments. It has been my experience, that a family may live quite happily in a house without any problems whatsoever. Whereas another family living in the same property can, for reasons unknown, encounter all manner of strange unexplained oddities. This may well have been the case with the Claridge Family. If the paranormal exists, then who is to say what conditions must be in place to trigger it.

As the Claridge’s stories grew in their audaciousness, their validity was brought into question and the Colonel and his family were suspected of erroneous fabrication of dates, people and events and one or two somewhat dubious photographs to boot. So convinced was the Colonel that his claims were genuine, he invited a team of investigators (one of many I believe) from the Paraphysical Laboratory (a research unit organized by some members of the Society for Psychical Research) to investigate the Manor. The team stayed for several days and concluded, that in their opinion, the house was most certainly haunted, although team leader - Mr. Benson Herbert, was not prepared to speculate by whom or what, but said later ‘a prima facie case had been established and five ghosts had been verified‘. This declaration from the SPR was a welcome tick in the box for the Colonel, and just the confirmation he needed to add credence to his claims.

The Claridge’s staff and friends gamut of ghostly reports, if we are to believe them genuine, were to include:

A psychopathic priest, apparently responsible for several murders in life, is now, it would seem, frustrated in death. Unable to continue with his murderous spree, he contents himself by scaring folk witless by stand over their beds in the dead of night wielding a knife.

A man dressed in velvet, seen in the house.

A lady dressed in white, seen in the house.

A lady dressed in green, seen in the grounds.

Six ghostly monks, seen in the grounds. I’m at a loss to see where these chaps fit in to be honest, as there has never been a priory in or near Sandford Orcas.

Mrs Claridge claimed to have seen a woman dressed in red ascend the stone spiral staircase and disappear into a bedroom. Giving chase, Mrs Claridge was surprised when entering the bedroom to find it empty.

The ghost of a male servant, said to have murdered a former employer, walks the upper floors slamming doors.

A farmer, thought to be James Davidge, leased the Manor in the early 1740’s but got into financial difficulties and hanged himself from a trapdoor in the house. Although the trapdoor has long since been boarded up, it doesn’t seem to have deterred his ghost from haunting the kitchen dressed in a white milking smock. His ghost is one of the more frequently witnessed manifestation and has been reported by staff and the Claridges’ many times. During filming, one member of the BBC film crew claimed to have seen his ghost walking past the kitchen window.

One of the more shocking tales, surrounds that of a young sea cadet who murdered a shipmate whilst at sea. To avoid a public scandal, he was returned to Sandford under a veil of silence. Once there, he was incarcerated in a room at the back of the house where it is said he spent the rest of his life until his death several years later. His demented screams and the sound of someone or something hurling itself against the door has been heard by terrified witnesses.

A giant of a man, some seven feet tall, believed to have been a footman during the 18th century, apparently harboured an unhealthy interest in the local village maidens. He would take great delight in scaring them at every opportunity. It was his obsessive, sexual deviance that was to lead to his eventual undoing. He accosted a young girl from the village who he beat and raped. He was arrested, tried and sent to prison where he eventually died. His ghostly presence however, has returned to the Manor where it is preceded by a disgusting foul odour.

Even the inanimate seem to take on a life of their own. The two carved stone apes which stand above the porch are reputed to reanimate themselves and lampoon those that dare pass beneath them.

St. Nicolas Church

The Norman church of St. Nicolas, adjacent to the Manor does not escape the odd tale or two either. Ghostly footsteps have been heard chasing people down the church steps and into the lane below. Whilst within the church, a prosaic ghostly figure of a man has been seen fleetingly running up the central aisle clutching what appears to be a large key.

On the wall above the side door, there is a rather disconcerting wall carving in painted alabaster, depicting William Knoyle of 'Santfort Arcas' manor house who is clad in armour and kneeling between his two wives and their eleven children. Seven of the children kneel in black gowns and the others are in swaddling clothes of red and lying in line behind their mother - Fillip, his first wife. These four children are depicted in death. The body of William Knoyle rests immediately below the memorial, his tomb is dated 1607. Could it be the ghosts of William Knoyle and that of his wife Fillip who are also thought to contribute to the Manor’s list of hauntings.

Church of St. Nicolas

Here Lies the Body of Willaim Knoyle

Conclusion

Much has been written about the Manor’s alleged hauntings and its darker human legacy of murder and cruelty. A legacy which may have a grain of truth, as there have been many leaseholders over the centuries, so there is much scope for dastardly deeds.

One has to consider, in view of the controversy, that the stories perpetuated by the Claridges’ may well indeed have been manufactured and are nothing more than fanciful nonsense engineered for monetary gain, as strongly believed by Sir Mervyn Medlycott. That said, one can not dismiss entirely the claims from the Claridge Family and not forgetting those of their staff and their friends, many of whom have had strange encounters. Furthermore, one would have to question Colonel Claridge’s motives for ultimately attracting such media attention and running the risk of implicating his family, staff and friends in the furore that followed. To be thought of as deluded, eccentric fools and liars, which in some quarters is exactly what happened, would surely not be a cross anyone would want to bring to bear on their family, unless of course, they were all in collusion together and couldn’t have given a hoot as to what folks thought of them.

The house has been visited by several groups of paranormal investigators over the years, who in the main have reported nothing. But then why should that be so surprising, after all, elusive spontaneity is unquestionably what ghosts are all about, so spending hours and hours waiting for one to show is about as likely as successfully counting falling raindrops.

Whatever your thoughts are about Sandford’s mysterious Manor, whether you believe it to be haunted or not; you have to ask yourself this; can you honestly refute all of the claims by all of the witnesses as fabrication?

The Colonel and his wife Josephine are buried side-by-side at St. Nicolas opposite; their daughter still lives in the village.

Dunster Castle - Somerset

2011-04-23T12:39:00.027+01:00

Dunster Village

Brooding Edifice

The King Charles Bedroom

The Grey Lady is frequently seen on these oak stairs

Connecting corridor featuring three "dust halos"

Grand Oak and Elm Staircase, where not everything you draw is intentional

The quaint medieval village of Dunster lies within the picturesque hills and valleys of Exmoor National Park and just a stones-throw away from the Bristol Channel.

What is most striking about the village as you enter it from the High Street, apart from its “Englishness” of course, is its stunning castle, which is perched high up on a Tor, partly hidden by trees but still managing to tower above the village below.

The castles strategic position, commands views of the Avill Valley to the south and the coast road to the north and was an obvious place to construct a hill-fort. The Bristol Channel that used to lap at the base of the Tor has long since receded and now resides a comfortable two miles away.

Before 1066 the site belonged to the Saxon - Aelfric, who constructed the first fort from wood. The stone castle was built by William de Mohun, one of the Norman warlords who came over to England with William the Conqueror in 1066. The castle was to remain the domain of the Mohun Family for 300 years until their successors - the Luttrell Family, acquired it in 1736. Dunster has been home to eighteen generations of the Luttrell Family, although no longer living at Dunster, the Luttrells’ still maintain their long links with this part of West Somerset, with their equally ancient home at East Quantoxhead. The castle and grounds were eventually passed to National Trust by Walter Luttrell in 1976.

Dunster Castle has had a turbulent 1000 year history: besieged by King Stephen in 1138 and again by a Parliamentary army in 1645; the medieval fortress was demolished by order of parliament in 1650; Sir Hugh Luttrell renovated the castle in the 1420’s, which was in a state of disrepair, adding a Gatehouse; Anthony Salvin is commissioned by the Luttrell’s and begins rebuilding the castle in 1868 into what we see today; a wonderful Victorian castle and estate. Salvin's remodelling works were to include a major project to emphasis and return Dunster Castle to its medieval origins.

The Ghosts of Dunster Castle

Ghostly sightings have been reported at Dunster for hundreds of years. Probably the most famous of the castle’s ghosts and the one most frequently seen, is that of the 'Grey Lady' and the ‘Foot Guard‘, a shadowy figure who wears a tricorn hat. The Grey Lady especially, has been seen so many times that Trust’s staff have lost count and now consider her part of the family. More about the Grey Lady later.

The pair tend to manifest as blurred shadowy shapes or reflected images but occasionally their presence is announced by strange noises, cold spots and general feelings of unease by those sensitive to such things.

The Leather Gallery

The Leather Gallery, so-called because of its leather hangings, depicting the story of Anthony and Cleopatra. Originally a banqueting hall would have been adorned with wall tapestries made from fabric, as apposed to leather which were introduced much later do help disguise the nasty niffs from cooked meat and fish that fabric tapestries tended to retain.

It is thought that this area is one of the most haunted parts of the castle.

During the Civil Wars the castle was seized by Royalist soldiers and The Leather Gallery was used as their dormitory. It would seem that the soldiers liked it so much they chose to return after their deaths, for it is here, that many times the sounds of men shouting, heavy footfalls and the slamming of doors have been heard by National Trust staff long after the castle’s visitors have left. Even during the day, some people have claimed to have been tapped firmly on the shoulder, only to turn and find no one there.

It is believed that there is a distinct “cold spot” here, though I couldn’t find it myself. One of the Trust’s conservationist was recently cleaning when she suddenly became aware of a dramatic drop in temperature, along with a feeling of being watched. Turning around she was confronted by the ghostly figure of a man dressed in Royalist military uniform. Within seconds the temperature climbed and the figure vanished. This is not an isolated case, ghostly soldiers are a regular occurrence in the Leather Gallery.

King Charles Bedroom

The King Charles Bedroom is said to be the most haunted room in the Castle, taking its name from Charles II, who as Prince of Wales, slept here in 1645. This room supposedly has an “atmosphere” that some find very unpleasant indeed, even to the point of refusing to cross its threshold, which has happened countless times, those effected claiming a feeling of malevolence or just uneasiness. I must say I felt nothing unusual here, no surprise really, being psychically aware and me don’t go together in the same sentence - bloody annoying that!

The Grey Lady

The Grey Lady, mentioned earlier, is Dunster’s most frequently seen apparition. She has been sighted in several rooms including the Library, the Billiard Room and the connecting corridor that flanks the latter two, but most often she is seen on a flight of oak stairs that lead down off said corridor.

The wife of the first administrator often complained that she felt an awful feeling of foreboding, that 'something evil was haunting those stairs.' So much so, that she convinced her husband to have the stairs exorcised. Several days later a spirit medium attended a seance here and claimed to have banished several spirits.

However, the story takes a twist at this point, for a few days later, a staff member returned from holiday totally unaware of the mediums visit. On ascending the stairs in question, she suddenly remarked how cold they felt and how before they had always felt warm and happy. It would appear that the mediums endeavours to rid that stairs of its ghostly presence only compounded the problem.

It is said that generations of the Luttrell Family have been terrified by repeated encounters of the Grey Lady at this particular spot. She glides up and down the staircase then vanished into a wall, leaving an icy chill in her wake. Legend has it, that she may have been a servant girl abused by the castle keeper and possibly died at his hands.

Another spooky spot and indeed another staircase, is the elegant late 17th century "Grand," carved oak and elm staircase that leads off the main Hall. The impressive, elaborate balustrade was likely carved by Edward Pearce the Younger, one of the most accomplished sculptures of his day. Each of the panels is craved from a single plank of elm 23cm thick, and together they form a continues rhythmic pattern of curling acanthus leaves intertwined by scenes of fox, beagle and stag hunting. It is on these stairs that the “Grey Lady” has also made several unexpected appearances.

One of the strangest stories was reported by a local artist who recently visited the castle. She took up position at the foot of the stairs and started to sketch. Immersed in her project she suddenly had an overwhelming compulsion to include the figure of a young girl descending the stairs, the inclusion of this mystery figure was not intentional and what’s more, there was no one on the stairs at the time to draw.

Sightings of the Grey Lady continue to this day, as many Trust Guides and visitors have witnesses. So it would seem, that despite earlier attempts to eradicate her from Dunster she remains very active.

Gatehouse leading to the oubliette

The Giant in the Oubliette

The castle’s Gatehouse dates back to 1420 and would have formed part of the barbican entrance which protected the gateway. The right-hand tower contained an oubliette, or pit, constructed from stone and some 25 feet (7 meters or so) deep. The pit held a dark secret, for an oubliette was a place where men and women were thrown and left to starved to death during medieval times.

A story, verified by excavations during the late 19th century, confirmed that during the early 1700s an excavation was undertaken of the oubliette which unearthed its macabre secret. A male skeleton was found, some 7 feet tall - a giant of a man, bearing in mind the average height of an adult male at that time would have been around 5 feet 3 inches. The skeleton was discovered manacled to the wall by his wrists and ankles, presumably left to starve to death like so many others. It is said that his remains still lie in-situ at the bottom of the oubliette. The oubliette is now covered and tiled over but just standing there and being aware of what lies below, is a little creepy. Haunting cries of men and women have been heard coming from the area of the oubliette.

Next to the Gatehouse is a flight of stone steps, clearly visible in the photograph, which seem to unnerve some dogs. Several owners have mentioned how their animals have refused to climb the steps, seemingly troubled and wary at this point. The present Head Gardener similarly struggles to coax his dog to climb the steps, the animal preferring to wait patiently beyond the door.

The Stable Block

The old stable block, which is adjacent to the Trust shop is the haunt of a spectral "Man in Green." The stables are yet another area of the castle were some folk have experienced a feeling of dread, some even going as far as to suggest that murders may have taken place there.

One story concerning the appearance of the Green Man happened as the shop was closing late one afternoon. A previous shop manager caught sight of someone dressed in green walking past the entrance to the shop enroute to the stable block. Thinking he was a visitor who had not seen the ‘closed sign’ she went after him but by the time she reached the shop doorway (the only way to the stables is past the shop entrance) the figure had completely disappeared.

This was not an isolated case, for the mysterious Man in Green has been witnessed at the far end of the stable block on several occasions and many who have attempted to enter that area complain of feeling a deathly chill. Even during hot sunny days, the far end of the stable block is chilly. I don’t personally think this has any supernatural connotation, it is simply that the stables are constructed from stone, timber with a cobbled floor, all of which will render any building chilly.

We chatted at length with the current shop manager about the ghostly goings on in the stable block; he told us of an encounter that had happened only recently. A rather portly, elderly gentleman got the shock of his life and was seen running from the stables as white as a sheet and in obvious distress as he pushed his way through throngs of visitors. Apparently, whilst at the far end of the stables, he saw a man step out of the wall in front of him then abruptly disappear.

There are also stories of people claiming to have witnessed strange, floating green orbs at the far end of the stable block.

In the stockroom opposite the shop, books and boxes are often found on the floor in disarray, as if they have been pushed over. What is more unpleasant, is the feeling of unease and being watched, that some members of staff have felt when in the stockroom. But most curious of all, was an occasion when several boxes were ruined by a inexplicable green slime. Now I know what you maybe thinking; you maybe thinking ‘Slimer’, the disgusting little green guy form the movie Ghostbusters, you can be forgiven, for I too found this one hard to swallow and the little green guy kept jumping into my head. But I have it on good authority that it did actually happen. There you go, green slim at Dunster Castle.

Dunster Castle is a lovely place to visit, not just for its history and creepy ghost stories but also for its stunning views across Exmoor National Park and out towards the Bristol Channel. Just strolling atop the ancient Tor, then passing on down through fragrant gardens, briefly stopping at the little Victorian pet cemetery, then on down through the tranquil wooded walk that takes you to the “Old Water Mill” and 16th century “Lovers Bridge,” which crosses the ambling River Avill.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks must go to - Peter, one of the National Trust’s Room Guides, who’s extensive knowledge of the castle’s hauntings, along with his often amusing ghostly anecdotes, were invaluable in compiling this piece.

Readers Photographs

Just what are the strange ghostly images photographed by Tracy Myers when she recently visited Dunster Castle during a holiday break in 2011?

In Tracy's email, she writes: 'The photo of what looks like a couple sat together is strange because they are completely out of context compared to other things in the room, namely the reflection in the mirror of the woman visitor stood next to me, the strange couple look too small and high up to be anything I can think of, and I do remember that apart from the other woman visitor the only other person in that room at the time was her small granddaughter. The more I enlarge that photo and look at the detail and out line the more I am convinced I have captured an old couple in old fashioned costume.'

'The other picture really gives me the creeps as I am convinced it is a figure from the civil war times, and he is in the Leather Gallery, what appears to be his legs go behind the chair, which is strange as it was against the wall, the style of dress is uncanny, when I first looked at my holiday pictures I went cold when I saw this one, I couldn't believe what I saw. He is in front of one of the leather wall hangings, they are dull, not highly reflective. The more I zoom in on this one the less I can explain it, I am convinced this one is a ghost. Especially as it is my own photo and I know for certain that it hasn't been set up or faked.'

Poltergeists

2011-04-18T21:51:00.019+01:00

Poltergeist; a German word meaning: “poltern,” to rant or be noisy; and “geist,” to mean a spirit or ghost.

The poltergeist is regarded as potentially the most terrifying and destructive of all ghost phenomena. Frequently audacious, capricious and occasionally, though rarely it must be said, malicious. Capable of indiscriminate, disruptive and destructive outbursts, which in some cases have driven folk from their homes. If that wasn’t enough, then there is one trait that the poltergeist exhibits that must surely be considered as the most disturbing of all and that is its potential to inflict physical harm on its victims. If this be true, then the poltergeist has to be deemed a thoroughly unpleasant little SOB and one to be avoided at all costs.

Poltergeists have been reported for millennia, from all over the world. Many religions believing them to be enslaved spirits under demonic influence, compelled to perpetrate acts of violent destruction. Medieval witches were blamed and flamed; called to account, accused of summoning up elementals; invisible spirit entities to do their bidding, often with an unpleasant outcome for their intended victims.

Early Catholic religion believed poltergeists to be demons sent by Satan to possess and defile the living. In such cases distraught families would often seek the help of an exorcist; an ordained priest trained in the ritual of ceremonial exorcism. Prayers would be recited, sometimes for days at a time, in an effort to solicit the help of the almighty and his minions in an attempt to elicit the demon and in so doing drive it from its host.

Exorcisms are rarely performed today, as they are considered to be psychologically too risky, doing more harm than good and what‘s more, no one, religious or lay, would like to acknowledge the fact that Satan and his legions is alive and well, and merrily crisscrossing the globe possessing the souls of the living.

I think the only demons we should concern ourselves with in a modern world, are our own personal ones.

Who’s at risk from poltergeist attacks?

Poltergeist activity is believed by many mediums and spiritualists, to be the product of a mischievous spirit, most likely that of a child. An infant spirit entity that tends to focus its psychic attacks on women under the age of 20, more often than not, pubescence girls who are generally considered introvert and possessing an above average intelligence.

The “paperclip throwing” poltergeist that took up brief residence in the stockroom of a Marlborough High Street toy shop in the 90’s, initially terrified the younger female members of staff but later gained their confidence by playfully returning paperclips, which the staff would toss into a specific corner of the room.

Just why young women should be a target for poltergeist attacks is open to question. It maybe because there is so much going on emotionally and chemically during the pre-teenage transition, that in some cases, these young women may unknowingly exude a certain something and leave themselves open to the attentions of the poltergeist entity, drawn inexplicably to sexually maturing individuals with all their emotional baggage and trappings.

Poltergeist attacks are not always confined to the female sex though, occasionally, although rarely, males can be targeted too. Men and boys suffering from repressed anger, depression, alcoholism or sexual tension, have been known to unwittingly trigger poltergeist attacks. One such case took place in 1980 where a poltergeist infestation targeted a family in Wiltshire, which by chance, included two teenage females who, at the time, were suspected of being the focus of the attacks but were later exonerated. As it turned out, suspicion fell on the 45 year old father who had been suffering sever depression as a result of pressures at work, so much so, that his libido had been severely effected resulting in his impotency and related frustrations. Subsequent medical attention and treatment saw the infestation abruptly cease. Coincidentally, could not his depression have effected the two girls to such a degree that they were indeed the focal point for the poltergeist manifestation and the fathers' return to normality also alleviate the emotional tensions and stress that the two girls must have been subjected to?

The owner of The Ram Inn in Wotton-under-Edge - John Humphries (see sidebar) was, and still is I believe, subjected to poltergeist attacks. One in particular has become intimately intrusive, and has on occasion climbed into his bed at night and embraced him. Others visitations are not quite so affectionate and have forcibly pulled him out of his bed in the dead of night.

Mind over matter.

Poltergeist activity seems to follow a pattern and starts quite unobtrusively; “where are my keys?” or “why do you keep moving stuff around?” Some would say these two examples are simply down to absence mindedness along with a multitude of similar instances. But at what point does absence mindedness cease and a positive recollection of a task performed earlier is brought into question. “You were with me last night; you saw me switch off all the lights didn’t you?“ Innocuous little oddities, that at first are simply regarded as irritating but later can develop into something altogether quite disturbing. More often that not this bizarre phenomena can cease as abruptly as it started, sometimes only lasting for a few hours or days leaving a home in disarray, its bewildered occupants each suspicious of the others secret shenanigans.

Whether poltergeist disturbances are attributed to the entity itself, or the entity using its host as a channel for telekinetic mischief, forcibly inducing involuntary acts of destructive behaviour from its host, is open to debate. Psychologists would, I‘m sure, put such behaviour down to fabrication, whilst other researchers of the paranormal may explore and pursue the possibility of a psychokinetic link with the individual.

The Enfield Poltergeist.

One such example of possible psychokinesis, is the famous Enfield Poltergeist which hit the national press in the late 70‘s. The extraordinary phenomena took place in a conventional three bed council semi in North London, between 1977 - 1978. The property was occupied by divorcee - Peggy Hodgson, along with her four young children, one of whom was named Janet, aged 11 at the time. It would be Janet that seemed to be the focus for the poltergeist attacks.

The disturbances started with Janet complaining to her mother that her bed was shaking and that there were scratching sounds coming from within the wall behind her bed. The disturbances escalated over the coming months and included: loud knockings; pooling water; a chest of draws which on one occasion moved by itself in Janet’s bedroom blocking the door; Janet being thrown from her bed; Janet levitating; foul odours, objects being hurled about and even occasionally, Janet speaking in deep guttural tones. The children claimed on several occasions to having been visited by the ghosts of a little girl and an elderly man who introduced himself by ”channelling” through Janet as “Bill,” who had apparently died in the house some years previous of a brain haemorrhage.

As the activity grew more intrusive and destructive, a distraught Mrs Hodgson turned to Maurice Grosse a member of the SPR (Society for Psychical Research) who investigated the case at length and was convinced the children’s stories were authentic, a belief he took to his grave age 90 in 2006. The Enfield case was widely debunked as trickery and hoaxing but many witnesses, including police officers claimed they had seen and heard things whilst in “that house” that defied logical explanation. Towards the end of 1978 the disturbances fizzled out and peace returned to the house.

It’s interesting to note that many of the incidents that Janet and the other children claimed to have occurred, bore a striking resemblance to some of the scenes played out in the 1973 movie The Exorcist, which received its video release in the UK in 1979, although pirate copies had been available much, much earlier. Is it possible the girls got hold of a copy and were subsequently seduced by its chilling content to such an extent that it effected them psychologically, inducing them to play out their own creepy fantasies? It is not difficult to imagine the impact such material would have on young impressionable minds. I recall the movie effected many who saw it at the time. I remember news runs showing Catholic priests standing outside cinemas handing out leaflets advising people not to see the film. Many who did, left partway through in shock, some later claiming they too had become possessed - suggestion can be very malleable.

The Enfield Poltergeist was parodied by the BBC in 1992, as an example of how easy it to dupe the viewing public. The program was entitled Ghostwatch, which, as expected, created so much furore (it was filmed live) that people were phoning in convinced the show was for real, many claiming all manner of weird stuff was happening in their own homes as a result of the show.

Violent poltergeists - the Carla Moran story.

Most poltergeist infestations are merely a nuisance and are not even attributed to restless, mischievous spirits. But there are some that can not be quite so easily ignored, those infestations that are malevolent in the darkest sense of the word. Take for example probably the most terrifying case of poltergeist attacks ever documented; the utterly extraordinary case of Carla Moran, who claimed to have undergone repeated sexual assaults and beatings by an entity in Culver City California in 1974. The ferocity of the assaults were so severe, that Carla would exhibit bite marks on her neck and inner thighs, as well as welts, cuts and bruising, often in places she could not have possibly reached by herself. Her home was to became a battleground as an invisible intruder ripped her life apart and that of her family. Doctors and psychologists who treated her became convinced she was covering for an abusive boy friend which she emphatically denied.

In 1983 a movie was made entitled The Entity, which starred Barbara Hershey in the lead roll as Carla Moran. Although it was given a “licence to thrill,” some of the incidences portrayed in the movie were said to have been based on true events, even those of the paranormal research team who claimed to have caught the entity on film. Carla Moran eventually left her home and is now believed to be living in Texas under a pseudonym. However, as in many poltergeist cases, moving house does not always guarantee anonymity from the entity and more often than not, it will follow its victims, as was reputedly the case with Carla Moran. Poltergeists are thought to be unlike any other ghost phenomena in as much as they will attach themselves to a particular individual and not be 'grounded' (haunt) a specific location.

Conclusion.

In life, there are those who are blessed with a temperate, pleasant, disposition; rarely flustered, preferring a non-confrontational lifestyle. Whilst others, conversely, are volatile and unpredictable; given to bouts of violent behaviour, are easily offended, having what is commonly termed as a “short fuse.” With this in mind, I wonder; is it conceivable that in death, those characteristics are retained by a few “lost souls” who, for whatever reason, are unable to make the transition from this world to the next and subsequently find themselves lost and trapped in the world of the living unaware that they are dead. Could it be, that the poltergeist is merely an angry spirit with an axe to grind, simply because he or she has missed the bus? An ‘angry spirit’, strong enough to punch a hole back into the domain of the living and in so doing, cause no end of problems. Or is the explanation far more likely to be the manifestation of a bored adolescent seeking attention, a product of an overactive imagination with a desire for tomfoolery and deception?

Seend - A Ghosty Funeral Cortege

2011-02-14T09:53:00.016Z

The village of Seend is situated on the A361 between Devizes and Trowbridge.

I would venture this pretty little village could be forgiven if it were to described itself as opulent; grandiose and maybe just a little ostentatious in its unabashed display of its lavish 18th century manor houses, many of which are enclosed by towering wall gardens and infinite driveways. These beautiful buildings line the High Street, which is a busy route for the A361. It maybe as a result of Seend's busy thoroughfare, that the village’s oldest haunting may have been compromised; disrupted or interfered with in someway.

Just off the High Street is a lane, some 200 yards long, that leads down to the 15th century (although it has Norman foundations) church of the Holy Cross. It is at a pair of arched, rustic iron church gates, that a spectral funeral cortege, comprising of several individuals, ends its solemn march.

Earlier accounts by villagers tell of having seen the ghostly procession cross the A361 from the village and disappear into the lane. It maybe possible, as mentioned earlier, that the constant traffic flow has somehow interfered with the ghostly “recording,” and the “crossing” of the A361 is no longer in evidence. However, the final part of the haunting from the lane to the church gates, is still witnessed to this day.

Descriptions have varied little over the years. Commonly; the party is described as consisting of several hazy, ethereal like individuals, dressed in what is believed to be the style of the 18th century.

One such account took place in 2006 when an elderly couple were leaving the church one summers evening after tending a relatives grave. As they left through the church gates and started back up the lane, they noticed several people walking slowly towards them. Well aware of the tales surrounding the lane, they stood 'transfixed' as the procession silently approached them diminishing with every step, until nothing was left but an empty lane.

The lane leading down to the church is flanked by high brick walls which conceal the manor houses beyond. The lane itself has a certain seclusion about it; a lonely spot away from the main road, cut-off from the thunder of the traffic. A place I would advocate, may quite easily harbour a haunting or two.

A Grave Experience

2011-01-28T09:41:00.041Z

Have you ever walked through a graveyard at night and felt a little uneasy, a growing feeling of foreboding perhaps? I suppose it unavoidable really not to feel cognizant in the presence of those buried therein. To be conscious of that in itself is probably enough to make even the most sceptical feel just a tad uncomfortable. As for the feeling of foreboding; well there will always be those with a more ghoulish and fanciful outlook to their immediate surroundings. Those who will contemplate with a morbid curiosity their own proximity to death, considering that just *six feet down* and in all directions lay the remains of countless corpses in varying stages of decomposition. It is easy to see why the imagination can run riot when courting such thoughts in such places.

It is not surprising graveyards have gained a reputation for being haunted,(see churches in sidebar) after all, are they not the perfect stage to have inspired many an author of ghost fiction to put pen to paper. It is understandable then, that some folk feel a sense of unease when entering these gardens of the dead, especially at night, when it is felt by some that they take on a sombre; brooding; even menacing ambience. A place of tall imposing shadows, cast by numerous lichen encrusted headstones. Some of elaborate angels cast in stone, their grey weathered faces set eternally in mournful repose as they gaze down upon neglected forgotten graves who's inscriptions have long since been lost to times erosion. The eerie cry of the owl and the tortured squeal of its catch echo hauntingly through the darkness. An amorphous mist that no graveyard at night is complete without. Its icy fingers caressing and entwining the graves, its presence made all the more spectral by the light from a full moon. Then there are the watchers, someone or something is out there, watching, waiting and I don’t mean the resident winos and junkies who frequent such places, familiarizing themselves with their fast approaching final destination. No! I refer to the 'otherworldly', the unseen menace lurking in the shadows, the grisly ghouls, the soul collectors, the tomb hoppers, your worse nightmare - Brrrr!

There are some who are convinced that the closer to the dead they can get, the better chance of encountering a ghost, so where better to start than in a graveyard. I‘m not altogether convinced such places are likely to yield any better results than anywhere else. I can’t help thinking why a ghost would want to waste time haunting its own grave, when there is so much more fun to be had scaring folk witless elsewhere, but then am I in danger of endowing a ghost with a modicum of intelligence.

From my own experience of graveyards and I’ve visited a few, they have always been environments that positively encourage quiet contemplation. It’s almost as if the cacophony of the 21st century has been purposely muffled, possibly by the influence of those that reside within, now there's a thought. I have never found graveyards intimidating or scary but then I don‘t wonder them in the dead of night, well not if I can help it.

As I walk amongst the spires, crosses, plaques and seraphim, each a symbol of deaths ultimate victory over the living and each bearing an epitaph to those who are no loner with us only fills me with melancholy, especially when I come across the graves of children, snatched from a life only just begun.

From the day we are born, death stalks us, it hides in the shadows, never hurrying but always vigilant. Life is precariously balanced and it takes very little to tip that balance.

There is no need to look for spectres of death in graveyards, as death will ultimately find us and when that day comes, as it surely will, then we will join those who I now walk amongst.

*Six Feet Down*

The directive that bodies should be buried 6 feet down dates back to the Bubonic Plague of 1665, where is was thought that at such a depth there was little or no chance of infection spreading and also deep enough to prevent scavengers digging up infected corpses. Today however, the depth at which a coffin may be interred is a little less stringent and in some parishes in the U.K. it is permitted to bury a body in little more than 30 inches of soil.

'I saw an angel in the marble and I chiselled until I set him free'.

~ Michelangelo ~

M.R. James.

2010-12-13T20:35:00.016Z

Over the centuries, there have been many authors who have penned some of the finest works of ghost fiction, but in my opinion, there is one name in particular that stands head and shoulders above the rest and who’s works have inspired generations of writers - Montague Rhodes James (1862-1936)

M.R. James wrote over two dozen short stories of a supernatural theme during the late 19th and early 20th century. His atmospheric, chilling style of writing and his unique prowess in the art of suggestion, leaves the reader to use their imagination to fill in the blanks and to also ponder that all of his stories were written in such a way as to “put the reader into the position of saying to himself: 'If I'm not careful, something of this kind may happen to me!”.

M.R. James was to become well known amongst his fellow scholars at Eaton and King’s College Cambridge (where he studied archaeology) for his “Christmas gatherings,” which would later, as they gathered popularity, be affectionately referred to as the meetings of the “Chitchat Society.” It was in his gloomy candle-lit rooms over 100 years ago that he would indulged a captive audience with his latest tales of the supernatural.

One such story - “Oh, Whistle and I’ll Come To You, My Lad” is probably one of his most chilling and evocative tales and a personal favourite of mine. It is a story expertly crafted which warns the reader of what might happen if he or she should disturb that which should be left well alone. The story is set during the winter months on Burnstow Beach and in the creepy old Globe Inn, Suffolk. The main protagonist is one - Professor Parkins, who has decided to take a sort break to brush up on his golf. Just before he leaves for Burnstow, one of his colleagues catches up with him and asks if he could investigate the site of the Templar’s preceptory on Burnstow Beach with a view, should the professor think worthwhile, of organizing a summer dig there, the professor agrees and sets off.

Once settled at the Globe Inn, Parkins decides to take a brisk walk along the beach. James’s description of the desolate and often wild East Anglian landscape and Burnstow Beach in particular, only adds to the bleakness of the tale. He hasn’t gone far when he discovers, quite by accident the preceptory that his colleague had referred to. On careful examination of the surrounding area, he determines that he has stumbled upon the site of what must have been the Templar’s church. Further examination of the ground reveals a series of flint stones set in mortar and protruding, half buried from one stone, is what appears to be a whistle. Levering the item free from the stone, Parkins decides to pocket it and take it back to the inn for further inspection.

That night after cleaning and examining the artefact, he perceives the object to be that of a bronze whistle of some four inches in length and as he turns it in the light of the candle he notices an inscription “QUIS EST ISTE QUI VENIT. “ Parkins Latin is a little rusty but he is able to discern part of the inscription to mean “who is this who is coming?” Tis a whistle, he thinks, so I should blow it and with that he puts the instrument to his lips and blows. At that instant, he is momentarily started by the whistles hauntingly distance note. Little does Parkins realise what he has inadvertently unleashed…

M.R. James is considered as one of the greatest writers of antiquarian supernatural literature that England has ever produced.

To enjoy this classic ghost story as it was intended, I strongly suggest you read M.R. James original tale, however, should you not want to wait for a copy then why not allow Robert Powell to regale you of this chilling ghost story. It is in two parts, click in the window for part two.

Cross Guns - Avoncliff

2010-11-26T14:00:00.017Z

Atop a steep valley in the picturesque hamlet of Avoncliff, stands the Cross Guns Inn. Built in 1496 as a private residence, it is one of Avoncliff’s oldest buildings. The terraced gardens offer a splendid view of the Avoncliff triple arched aqueduct, designed and built by John Reenie and John Thomas (bet his school days were memorable) between 1797 and 1801. Carrying the Kennet & Avon canal over the River Avon and Box railway, this stone built edifice ranks as one of the most magnificent of Britain’s artificial waterways constructions. The Cross Guns is also situated just 100 yards from Brunel's original wide-gauge railway, which must have served the hungry and thirsty railway workers during its construction.

The house was to become an inn in the early 1600’s and took the name - The Carpenter‘s Arms. Extensions were added, first to the east to accommodate the many millworkers, quarrymen and travellers and secondly to the west, in the early part of the 18th century after the canal arrived to accommodate the influx of rail workers, working boatmen (bargees) and their horses, which would have been stabled behind the old cellar.

In 1794 the 9th Battalion of the Wiltshire Rifle Volunteers was formed and duly established a rifle range beside the pub. It was decided to honour the local yeomanry by changing the pubs name to the Cross Guns which has remained unchanged to this day. The pub was purchased in 1999 by current owners Ken and Jenny Roberts and still remains a family run free house.

The Blue Lady

At a time when there were no roads to speak of in Avoncliff, folk would often use a footpath which led down from the top of the valley, behind the pub and on down to the river below. Now it just so happens, that the old footpath would have passed directly through what is now the ladies toilets, which is where the Blue Lady is most often encountered.

Of all the phantoms reputed to haunt the Cross Guns, the Blue Lady is the most frequently seen. When encountered, she is always described as dressed in blue or grey-blue in the style of the Victorian period. She has been sighted in various rooms in the pub and gardens. Anglers fishing on the banks of the Avon and boaters who have moored on the canal attest to fleeting glimpses of her as they make their ascent from the valley en route to the pub. She is said to stand quite motionless looking down at the river from the garden. You can imagine the look of shock, when visitors reach the pub only to be told the Victorian lady dressed in blue you have just described, is probably one of our ghosts.

One of the first sightings of the Blue Lady was by a member of staff - Janet, who is sadly no longer with us. The encounter took place about 10 years ago. Janet had just nipped outside to the ladies, when moments later the pub door burst open and in came Janet in state of panic claiming she had just seen a woman step out of the wall in the ladies toilet. Now it is unclear if there were people in the pub at the time but if there were, I can only imagine it must of caused quite a stir. Another member of staff - Christine, eventually managed to calm Janet down enough for her to relate what had happened. As Janet began to stumbled through her story, she described how she had been heading for the exit of the toilet, when all of a sudden, a woman stepped out of the wall blocking her way. Terrified, Janet made for the door which meant having to pass through the apparition which incredibly she managed. Janet describe the woman as dressed in blue-grey with wild staring eyes. She also recalled the “Lady” wore ankle boots which, as Janet raced for the pub door, where heard ’click-clacking’ behind her as if the Blue Lady were in pursuit. Janet claimed to have seen the Blue Lady several times since that night but nothing quite as traumatic as her first encounter. Janet was not the only hapless individual to encounter the Blue lady, several customers have come racing back into the pub as white as sheets with similar stories. Some witnesses, a little more curious than terrified after their ordeal, have returned with friends, no doubt hoping to get a second look...they never have.

The Blue Lady’s arrival is often preceded by a noticeable drop in temperature. There have been instances when staff and visitors have felt an icy chill moments before she manifests. Such an incident occurred one evening while a party were having a meal beside the cosy inglenook fireplace. A female member of the party suddenly claimed of feeling intensely cold and looked about to see if a door had been left open. At that very moment, she said she saw quite plainly, a woman in grey-blue glide partway through the lounge and into the public bar. She was the only one in the party to have witnessed the apparition.

Landlord - Ken Roberts recalled an incident that happened recently. One afternoon two women were sat in the garden having a drink, when for no apparent reason, other than they both had the distinct impression of “being watched," they glanced up at a first floor window (used in the 1500‘s as a family room) only to see an elderly woman wearing what appeared to be a white bonnet smiling back at them. They continued to watch in utter amazement as the figure slowly disappeared before their eyes. The description given by the two women does not seem to fit that of the Blue Lady but then there’s more than one ghost in the Cross Guns.

Ken Roberts admits to only ever having one “paranormal” experience in the pub and even now, he’s not totally convinced it was paranormal. He had been working late, helping design a website for the pub with a friend who had brought his camera to take some photographs. Together they waited patiently for the pub to empty, as it was nearing closing time. The idea was to get a few cosy atmospheric photographs of the pubs interior with nobody in it. Shortly after the last customer had left, there suddenly appeared in the lounge “two strange lingering lights,” which seemed to hover above their heads.” At first Ken thought it may have been smoke highlighted by the fire, or possibly a reflection from somewhere. These explanations were quickly dismissed, when the lights started to move about the room. Ken’s friend took several photographs in succession and the results Ken says, “have been interpreted differently by all who have seen them.”

One of several images taken that night

Ken has never seen the Blue Lady or any of the other ghosts reputed to haunt the pub. He has always felt that because there have been and still are, so many reports of strange goings-on, it would be foolhardy of him to refute anything that his staff and customers claim to have seen and felt.

Many of the pubs ghosts have been perceived peripherally, just a fleeting but clear image from the corner of the eye. Tall shadows resembling human form are a frequent occurrence in the kitchen, where many such shadowy sightings take place. The chef - Robert, claims to have seen a large woman (solid in appearance this time) who’s dress resembles that of a “Victorian housekeeper,” standing in the door way to the kitchen, not once but on several occasions. One such sighting was shared by colleague - Christine, who was sitting in a adjoining room and saw the same apparition via a mirror on the wall that is so placed as to give a clear view into the kitchen. As fleeting as the apparitions was, seconds after it disappeared, they both looked at one another via their respective reflections exclaiming “did you see that?” both did as it turned out.

An old gentleman in leggings and wearing a flat cap thought to be that of a 18th century bargee, is occasionally seen seated on one of the settles in the public bar. Christine claimed to have seen him only recently late at night as the pub was closing. At first she thought he was a customer chatting to Ken, so thought little of it until she mentioned it moments later to another member of staff, that there was a customer still drinking in the bar and chatting to Ken. Her colleague looked surprised and told her she must be mistaken, as she had just come from that area and Ken was alone. Christine knew there was no way the gentleman could have got past her and out through the pubs front door without her seeing him. Immediately she returned to the bar to discover that Ken was indeed all alone washing glasses. She asked him if he had seen the old gentleman - he had not. It seemed on this occasion, Christine had been privy to yet another of the Cross Guns resident ghosts.

Staff laying tables in the lounge in preparation for the evening diners have spoken of seeing a monk like figure standing by the inglenook fireplace, or on occasions disappearing into, or standing close to the cellar door. The cellar is said to link back to a tunnel which leads down to the canal, though excavations have not been undertaken to confirm this. Several steps down from the lounge will take you into a priest hole, where many people have claimed to have felt “uncomfortably nervous.”

Several years ago before Ken bought the pub, the “disturbances” had got so bad that the previous landlord had called on The Dean of Salisbury to arrange for the pub to be blessed. A blessing took place but alas, with little or no effect, indeed some of the staff at the time firmly believed it accelerated the problem, which is not unusual in my experience. Often to attempt a “house cleansing” or “light-leading ritual,” or in this case a “blessing,” can make things a whole lot worse. Why this should be dear reader, I have absolutely no idea.

Is the Cross Guns the most haunted pub in Wiltshire?

Well it certainly has a remarkably history of ghostly encounters, encounters I may add, that are not confined to the annals of a myriad of paranormal reference books gathering dust on library selves. Old tomes indexing a plethora of ancient “cyclic hauntings” that occur but once a year if your lucky. No, indeed not, for what is happening in the Cross Guns is very much current. Even now, visitors and staff are reporting strange anomalies in this most quintessential of English pubs.

I think, even as a sceptic, it would be unreasonable and indeed blinkered of me, or anybody else for that matter, to just simply dismiss all the accounts as figments of the imagination, or a trick of the light or some other well intended explanation. Something is in the Cross Guns of that I am sure, just what that something is, is open to investigation and debate.

Should you wish to stay at the Cross Guns, then accommodation is available. Many ghost hunters have spent eventful nights at the pub, some, according to Ken, with interesting results. Only recently Ken told me of a group of researchers from Swindon who stayed overnight, during which they claim to have witnessed amongst other things, several small children playing on the aqueduct in the dead of night. On closer inspection there was found to be nobody there.

The Cross Guns is a cosy little pub offering excellent locally brewed beers by Box Steam Ales, which, incidentally is also owned by Ken Roberts and family. I can recommend the “Tunnel Vision” but not if you’re driving, or walking for that matter. A traditional menu of home cooked fayre awaits the weary traveller and you never know…the unexplained too.

Oh and ladies! do take care in the loos.

Westwood Manor - Bradford on Avon

2010-08-30T15:53:00.063+01:00

Westwood Manor

The Corner Bedroom

Set in the peaceful Wiltshire countryside, this 15th century Manor house has remained largely unchanged, other than a few alterations to its interior which were made during the 16th and 17th centuries. The last owner of Westwood was Mr Edward Graham Lister, who was responsible for much of the 20th century restoration. Lister died in 1953, from a motoring accident. He left the contents and endowment to the National Trust. Today the house is occupied by a tenant who administers it on behalf of the Trust

It was a warm sunny afternoon the day we visited Westwood. What immediately struck us, as we stepped through the grey stone entrance into the grand hall was that 'lived-in' feel, an expression used all to frequently for lesser properties but in this case well deserved. Low Jacobean ceilings with lime plaster mortifies, grand Tudor fireplaces, oak panelled walls, Gothic oriel windows and not forgetting the handsome topiaried garden, all added to that feeling of being welcomed.

Heavy deep panelled oak doors lead off to all the rooms and one in particular, one which I had a vested interest in, was the Corner Bedroom. It is said that if you manage to get a good nights sleep in this room you have done exceedingly well. For it is this room that is reputedly haunted by the ghost of a woman who's identity is uncertain. Many guests who have slept in the Corner Bedroom have had eerie experiences and restless nights. Previous owner Mr. Edward Graham Lister, was in no doubt that the ‘Corner Bedroom is most definitely haunted‘. Many times he claimed to have seen the ghostly form of a woman or heard unexplained footsteps emanating from that room. Guests and visitors alike have reported having had unpleasant feelings when staying in, or just being in, the Corner Bedroom. It is interesting to note, that the elaborate tapestries which hang from bed, come from the infamous haunted bedroom at Littlecote Manor near Hungerford, which was, in 1575 the scene of a most heinous crime perpetrated by ‘Wild’ Will Darell' where, in a fit of rage he threw his newborn son onto an open fire pinning it there beneath his booted foot. A decidedly unpleasant chap by all accounts. The Bedroom is said to be haunted by the mother of his child. This could be a case for a residual transference haunting.

I spent sometime alone in the Corner Bedroom, just sitting there listening to a faintly discernable breeze as it sang in the eaves. I remember the ornate stone fireplace and imagined what it would be like when a fire had been lit, I could almost hear the spit and pop from the knots in the firewood. I think this would be a cosy room to spend the night in, but then I’ve not been disturbed by strange women in the night, well not recently. I recall a distinct stillness about the Corner Bedroom, there was no movement to the air. There were few visitors that day so we pretty much had the place to ourselves hence the quiet I suppose. I am reluctant to say the room had a certain feeling about it but my partner did later remarked when she had joined me, that she felt she could 'happily loose herself in here, such was its tranquillity'.

A former tenant by the name of Mr Denys Sutton, claimed there was another ghost at Westwood, a distinctly unlikeable fellow that took the shape of a fearsome headless spectre that would wonder the house silently in the dead of night and frighten the trousers off the unwary.

One of the guides recalled a story that the gardener had told her, a gentleman who has been in service at the Manor for many years. He described having just entered the Music room, when he smelt and then noticed pipe tobacco rising and curling above a high-backed chair. The chair was facing away from him, so he could not see who was sitting there. He called out but there was no reply. He approaching the chair but when he was but a few feet away, to his surprise the smoke suddenly evaporate, but what was more of a surprise was that the chair was unoccupied.

It is no secret that Westwood Manor is said to have been cursed. The story goes, that the Manor was once the home of a magistrate who caught and sentenced a gypsy for poaching. Hearing of her husbands arrest, his enraged wife marched up to the magistrate and vociferously cursed the house and family. Shortly after, the magistrate and his family started to have misfortune, so much so that they sold Westwood and left. The curse of Westwood Manor seems to have endured, for there have been reports of mysterious fires, violent deaths, one occupant supposedly hanging himself, whilst another drowned and yet another threw himself from a second floor window.

The Manor has had many famous visitors over the centuries, one in particular was Queen Mary, she adored Westwood. She would often take a liking to a particular item of objet d‘art, so much so that the household would have to discreetly hide objects that they thought might interest her on subsequent visits. This measure was taken just to ensure they would not be obliged to make yet another gift of her adorations for certain objects she picked up during her visit. She was greatly loved and received by all at Westwood Manor and her pen, the one she used to write letters whilst staying at the Manor, is now in a glass box beneath her photograph in the grand hall.

Church of St. Mary the Virgin

The Monk's Walk

The Monk's Walk

The church of St. Mary the Virgin is situated adjacent to the Manor. Earliest records of there being a church on this site date from around the 11th century but it was during the late 15th century, early 16th century that the magnificent tower was constructed with its Gothic traceried windows, sinister looking gargoyles, ornate pinnacles and small dome.

There are two ghosts reputed to haunt the church grounds. One is that of a medieval soldier who is said to throw what looks like a spear at the church door and the other, is that of a monk, who has been seen walking the path beside the church.

In Norman times, Westwood was one of several estates assigned for the support of the monks at Winchester Priory, and the residents of the Manor continued to be tenants of the Priory until it was dissolved by Henry VIII. The occupation of Westwood may account for the monks ghostly presence.

I recommend you visit Westwood Manor if only for its intimate charm. The garden is small but infinitely absorbing and peaceful, allowing time to reflect.

Newark Park - Wotton-Under-Edge (Gloucs)

2010-08-23T20:11:00.019+01:00

Newark Park House

Part of the Haunted Stairway

The Tudor Bedroom

Newark Park estate is situated close to the town of Wotton-Under-Edge. It stands in Gothic splendour high on a limestone cliff, giving spectacular views over Gloucestershire, the Mendip Hills and the Marlborough Downs.

Newark was built by Sir Nicolas Poyntz in 1550 as a Tudor hunting lodge, originally named ‘New Walk‘, it was largely constructed from building material acquired from Kingswood Abbey some five miles away. Following the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, much of the Abbey was demolished and the stone and timbers used for building elsewhere. Today, only the 16th Century gatehouse and some precinct walling remain of what must have been a once grand Abbey. It is thought by some researchers of the paranormal who lend support to the ‘imprint’ theory, that Newark’s hauntings may be the result of Kingswood Abbeys restless monks, who, by means unknown have managed to transferred from Kingswood to Newark.

The Clutterbuck family purchased the house in 1790 and commissioned James Wyatt, a renown English architect to update and extend it introducing a Georgian gothic arched porch and a new remodelled south elevation.

In 1949 the National Trust took possession of the lease and a further twenty years of letting ensued. A succession of tenants adapted the house for use as a nursing home for the elderly. By 1970 it had become very rundown and neglected. Nature had reclaimed the once beautiful gardens and the house was now in a state of disrepair. The Trust were desperate to find someone willing to rescue the house from almost certain ruin. Eventually, the lease was taken by Robert Parsons, a Texan, who in 1971 signed the agreement on the understanding that he would restore the house and gardens, which he did and dedicated much of his life in doing so. He was joined in the early 1980’s by Michael Claydon, who is still the current occupier, together they finished the project. Robert Parsons died in 2000 after a short illness but during his occupancy he was convinced the house was haunted.

One article written in 1978, stated unequivocally ‘the house has many ghosts’ and went on to surmise that the sound of footsteps on the stairs could be the Abbot of Kingswood searching for his lost abbey and that the hauntings would subside when the restoration to the house were complete. This is not a new theory, some believe that by disturbing a buildings fabric, it can in some cases trigger paranormal activity. As for spooks hitching a ride from building to building…

Robert Parsons spent much of his time living alone when the house was semi derelict, he claimed to have experienced many inexplicable disturbances. He would often lie in bed night after night listening to the sounds of heavy footsteps on the stairs which lead up to the first floor. The footsteps would often be accompanied by tapping, rapping, thumping and knocking. Michael Claydon has also heard similar inexplicable sounds coming from the stairs and also the terrifying crash of doors being slammed at great force. The stairs, more than anywhere else in the house, seem to have developed into a ‘hotbed’ for unexplained phenomena . On one occasion, Michael Claydon was going downstairs from the second floor when he noticed his dog Boston, a Great Dane, on the half landing with hackles raised and emitting a slow growl whilst appearing to watch something at the foot of the stairs. Michael watched in stunned bewilderment as the animal moved its head, apparently tracking the progress of something unseen. This chilling behaviour lasted all of 10 minutes, Michael and Boston were alone in the house. Many guests and visitors to Newark have claimed of feeling uneasy when on the stairs, especially between the ground and first floor.

At the top of the house is the Tudor Bedroom, most likely to have been the bedchamber of Sir Nicolas Poyntz. Many guests staying in that room have been woken by the sounds of shuffling footsteps coming from the other side of the door and also the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. The muffled voices of women, soft whispers and men arguing, are another ghostly feature of this bedroom. As I looked about the room I was amused to see some light reading that Michael Claydon had made available for his guests on one of the bedside tables: Great Ghost Stories, The Oxford Book of English Ghost Stories and one or two similar tomes, which I am sure were carefully selected so as to keep his guests at their ease - nice one.

Many researchers of the paranormal have held vigils at Newark and still do. Peter Underwood, the celebrated author and acclaimed ghost researcher, spent several days with members of The Ghost Club and obtained some surprising results. A full and detailed account of their visit is available to read in his book Nights in Haunted Houses..

The house has a long history of hauntings, all have been audible but none, I am given to understand have been visual, unless of course you count the strange photograph above.

This curious amorphous shape was captured quite by chance when a professional photographer was taking promotional photographs for the National Trust’s handbook. He was blissfully unaware of the ’blemish’ during the shoot and only discovered it when later developing the film. He immediately contacted Michael Claydon who has since put the photograph on display in the upper part of the house. I will leave to you to decide what is in the photograph. Coincidentally, the image was captured outside the Tudor Bedroom.

Michale Claydon welcomes visitors to his home and is always fascinated when people claim to have seen or heard something in one of the rooms. There have been incidences where visitors have felt uneasy in certain parts of the house, more often than not on the stairs.

Should you wish to do some ghost hunting of your own, the National Trust hires out an apartment on the first floor that accommodates six.

Worbarrow Bay (Dorset)

2010-08-20T15:56:00.014+01:00

Worbarrow Bay lies close to the village of Tyneham, now nothing more than a ghost village since the military requisitioned village and bay in 1943. The bay and village are now used extensively as a tank practice range, which may account for the bays lack of visitors, along with the half mile trek from the car park which no doubt deters many. Having said that, the bay is open to the public when the army are not wasting tax payers learning how to kill people.

A Smugglers Haunt

Worbarrow Bay became a popular nocturnal landing site for smugglers during the 17th 18th and 19th centuries, as did several other coves and caves along the coast which make up Britain’s Jurassic Coastline. Worbarrow Bay was ideally located; dominated by imposing chalk cliffs which offered cover during darkness and blessed more importantly, with the deepest and calmest of waters, which enabled ships to anchor a few meters offshore, ensuring quick passage of illicit goods from ship to beach.

It was on one such night in 1680, that a lone smuggler was spotted by a troop of Revenue men who had been supposedly tipped off there were smugglers operating in the area. As the smuggler unloaded his contraband on the stony beach, he was suddenly alerted by their approach. Curtailing his illicit activates, he panicked and foolishly made what he thought was his escape. He ran headlong towards the cliffs and unfortunately for him a dead-end. Cornered and in desperation he ran into the sea hoping to make his escape by swimming the dark waters. The Revenue men soon caught up with him and yelled instructions from the beach that he should turn back and be held accountable, which he apparently ignored. With nothing left to do, they fired their pistols fatally wounding him.

There is another more gruesome version of the same story, which describes the Revenue men dragging the bedraggled smuggler from the sea and stoning him to death where he stood, using the abundance of pebbles that cover the beach.

The official account of that night tells how, as the Revenue men approached the smuggler, he panicked and opened fire on them whilst trying to make good his escape along the beach. In retaliation, the Revenue men issued the order to “halt in the King’s name!” which was ignored, forcing them to open fire with dire consequence for the hapless smuggler.

Whichever story you favour, there is no getting away from the claims by those who would swear Worbarrow Bay is haunted by the very same individual who perished on that fateful night. It is said on clear still nights, his ghost can be seen running along the beach as if pursued. Some say as he reaches the point where cliffs meet shoreline, he abruptly turns and dashes into the sea. Chilling screams accompany this spectral “imprint,” screams thought to be his tortured soul as it writhes in agony whilst being cut down by a hail of bullets or possibly stones. The screams are said to eventually fade on the wind and are carried out to sea. Some people describe seeing a man standing in the water looking to shore but when spotted abruptly vanishes.

Worbarrow Bay, as mentioned earlier, is now a World Heritage site and part of Southern England’s Jurassic coastline. I spent time there recently just absorbing its rugged charm, listening to the sea as it lapped against the shore and enjoying the feel of the lightest of breezes on my face. It is not difficult to find yourself lost in the moment and imagining visions of a ghostly smuggler. Worbarrow Bay is unspoilt, free from “Kiss-me-Quick hats, Punch and Judy shows, candy floss and swarms of tourists battling for a place on the beach the size of postage stamp. It is a peaceful place, a place where you can walk beside the shore with someone special or in quiet solitude if you prefer, either way, it is a place of tranquil contemplation, fascinating history and eerie legend.

Ouija Boards - a study in suggestion

2010-08-19T09:49:00.031+01:00

I think far too much credence has been given to the alleged supernatural properties of the Ouija or spirit board. What started out as a harmless Victorian parlour game, seems to have inherited an altogether sinister and unhealthy reputation. A reputation that has been exploited over the years by authors and filmmakers only to ready to link Ouija with the occult - and why not!

The Ouija comprises of a board originally made of wood (some of the earlier ones were very elaborate indeed) decorated with the letters of the alphabet and numerals from 0 - 9. The words Yes and No and in some of the later offerings - Hello and Goodbye. A planchette, a small wooden heart shaped pointer on three wheels, is used to spell out messages believed by many to be from the spirit world.

The Ouija grew in popularity toward the end of the 18th century when spiritualism was at its height and the antics of table tipping and table knocking were becoming somewhat trite. These cheap tricks were deployed by many unscrupulous mediums to announce to the paying “circle” that they were in the presence of a spirit. This deception would then lend weight to phase two, where the medium would appear to “go into trance” and start to commune with the dead. Not surprisingly, these shenanigans were later exposed in their hundreds by researchers of the paranormal, journalists and others only to willing to expose these people for what they were.

The Ouijas’ growing popularity was further promoted by manufactures claiming it could 'summon up ghosts and spirits'. Its popularity proved irresistible for mediums and spiritualists alike and became an essential tool of the trade. It even managed to acquired its own “do’s and don’ts.“ Certain precautions would have to be adhered to at all times, for example: a short prayer would be uttered at the start and finish of a sitting. The placing of a silver coin at the edge of the board. No multiples of three sitters at anyone time were allowed in the circle. The Ouija should never be used when the moon is full. The list grew and grew a bit like Chinese Whispers. All these precautions were designed to protect those participating from evil spirits. Or was it maybe an illusion designed to create an atmosphere of menace and uncertainty?

The Ouija was an ideal instrument which could be easily manipulated, often with the aid of an accomplice within the circle. Members of the circle or séance, would be instructed to lightly place their fingertips at the edge of the little planchette, and before long it would start to move, it was not an option to disappoint. The planchette would glide, unaided of course, from letter to letter, supposedly under its own power, and would spell out messages from beyond the grave.

Ouija relied heavily on the mindset of the susceptible, the suggestible and the gullible. People of an impressionable nature, those who daily read their horoscopes in the national papers for example, would probably do wise to leave the Ouija well alone.

Having sat in on several such sessions, I am convinced it is what resides within our conscious or subconscious psyche, that ultimately decides the outcome of an Ouija sitting and propels the planchette and not as some would have you believe, messages from beyond the grave.

Today the Ouija board is consider nothing more than just a toy, as it was intend 100 years ago or more. It is unfortunate that some people still see fit to demonize it.

Corfe Castle (Dorset)

2010-08-16T17:52:00.011+01:00

As you approach the ruins of the castle from the village of Corfe, it is difficult not to be in awe of its magnificent and altogether imposing dominance. Built as a fortification, primarily as a defence from invasion from the coast; the castles strategic position was carefully engineered to give advantageous views across the Purbeck Hills, the road from Swanage to Wareham, but most importantly, an uninterrupted view towards the coast.

The castle was constructed approximately 1000 years ago during the rein of William the Conquered and was deemed by its builders to be "impregnable." There is evidence that the site had been settled as far back as 4000BC. The Romans had a stronghold here, as did the Celts from around 1300BC. The remains of 12 barrows circle the castle, thought to be the tombs of the 12 brides of Celtic chieftains.

During the middle ages it was to become one of five Royal castles; King John is reputed to have kept the Crown Jewels there, along with 22 imprisoned Frenchmen who he had incarcerated in the dungeons but neglected to feed and water them. The distressing sounds of men in their death throws have been heard coming from within the castle walls.

Throughout its history, the castle has been linked to many a pernicious deed. One such story is that of the Anglo-Saxon heir to the throne - Edward the Martyr; who was murdered in AD979, on the orders, it is thought, of his stepmother - Queen Elfrida, who was determined to see her son Ethelred ‘The Unready’ succeed as king. The story goes, that Edward had just finished a hunting trip when he arrived at the castle gate and was offered a glass of mead. As he drank he was set upon and stabbed in the back. He managed to take flight but shortly afterwards, exhausted and weak through loss of blood slipped from his horse and fell into the stream that runs beside the castle. He was quickly discovered by some of the Queens men and hidden in an abandoned hut. Edwards body was not to remain undiscovered for long, for a search party was dispatched to look for him and find him they did, due, it is said, to a strange shaft of brilliant light that guided them to where Edward lay dead. This miraculous discovery soon spread and the stream where Edward fell was deemed to have healing properties, especially to those struck down by blindness.

Edward was buried in Shaftesbury convent some 30miles away, where the miracles are said to have continued at his tomb, so much so that the convent became a place of pilgrimage. Edward was subsequently canonised in AD1001.

Edwards spectral arrival at Shaftesbury is just one of several ghost stories from the town. Many have claimed over the centuries to have witnessed two phantom figures leading a packhorse with a body draped over its back. They slowly labour up the steep hill that is ‘Gold Hill’ towards Shaftesbury convent, where Edward was finally laid to rest.

The outbreak of the Civil War saw the castle besieged by Cromwell’s army in 1645. Sir John Bankes, the owner of the castle, was a staunch Royalist but had recently died leaving his wife Lady Bankes to gallantly fended off the Parliamentarians assault. No matter what Cromwell’s army threw at Corfe the castle lived up to its impregnability and stood firm. It was only through an act of treachery instigated by Colonel Pitman, one of Lady Bankes employees, that Corfe defences where eventually compromised.

In his desperation, as food was nearly exhausted, Colonel Pitman secretly opened the gate to the enemy and Cromwell’s men stormed the castle. A short battle ensued whereupon the Royalists were defeated. The castle was confiscated then blown up by Cromwell’s engineers. What remains of the castle today is pretty much how Cromwell’s men left it.

It is Lady Bankes ghost that haunts the castle to this day. She is described as being dressed in white, with her head bowed, although some say she appears to be headless but there is no reason why this should be, as she was spared by the Parliamentarians. Her ghost has been seen to walk the castle walls, then glide slowly down the hill to the stream which runs alongside the castles base.

The ghost of a Roundhead has been seen from time to time in the National Trust tearooms and stockroom close to the main gate.

Finally; a legion of Roman soldiers is said to haunt the track that runs down from the Purbeck Hills to the foot of the castle. It is here that the ghostly ‘Army of Purbeck’ marches toward Lulworth and Kimmeridge.

Sherborne's Castles (Dorset)

2010-08-15T06:40:00.028+01:00

Sherborne Castle

Old Sherborne Castle

Centre section completed in 1594. Four more wings were added by Sir John Digby from 1620

Landscaped by Lancelot 'Capability' Brown in 1753

Raleigh's Seat

There are two castles at Sherborne; well, one to be more accurate, the latter one, built by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1594, is actually of Tudor design but was later to become known as the New Sherborne Castle.

Old Sherborne Castle was built in the 11th century by a Norman nobleman called Osmond. Osmond later gave the castle as a gift to Roger of Caen - Bishop of Salisbury. It was during the exchange that Osmond is reputed to have placed a curse on the castle. He was heard to utter these words, ‘whosoever shall take those lands from the bishopric or diminish them in great or small, should be accused, not only in this world but also in the world to come; unless in his lifetime he make restitution thereof'. In other words, anyone other than a bishop residing in the castle better relinquish it pronto or suffer dire consequences.

The castle remained a stronghold during a turbulent time, protected, some say, by its curse. It wasn’t until the Reformation in the 16th century when the monasteries were dissolved and many bishoprics lost their wealth and office, that the curse seemed to take hold.

Osmond’s Curse

Sherborne was passed to the Protestant Edward Seymour - Duke of Somerset by King Edward VI. In 1552 Edward VI grew tired of Somersets’ irritating pursuit of power and had him promptly executed. The estate was then to pass to the young King who died of consumption one year later. The estate then passed to Catholic - Mary I, who, through recompense gave money to the church, maybe to pacify the curse. She died without child and the estate was then passed to Elizabeth I, who, in 1592 leased it for a paltry rent to probably the most famous of Sherborne’s custodians - Sir Walter Raleigh. It is said that during a trip from London to Plymouth, Raleigh came upon the old castle and immediately fell in love with it and vowed it would be his no matter what.

His enthusiasm for the old castle was to falter, for he soon discovered that restoration and modifications needed to make the castle habitable, were becoming a drain on his finances. He decided to construct a new castle in the deer park opposite, which at the time was occupied by a wooden hunting lodge. Raleigh completed the house in 1594 as mentioned earlier and called it Sherborne Lodge. A four-storey house with hexagonal cornered turrets, forms the core of the present castle. It seemed that Sir Walter had escaped the curse that had befallen his predecessors, for the time being at least. Raleigh went on to become a respected member of parliament, a celebrated explorer of the Americas, winning much acclaim for his introduction of tobacco and the humble potato to Britain.

One story surrounding Raleigh’s’ tobacco indulgence (he learned the art of pipe smoking from the Red Indians) took place whilst he was sitting smoking his pipe in what is now referred to as ‘Raleigh’s Seat’. A stone structure he had built, so he could sit and admire his gardens while at the same time keeping a watchful eye on the road below, which was the main route to Dorchester. The story goes, as Raleigh was relaxing one morning enjoying his pipe, a servant approached him from behind carrying a pitcher of ale, when to his horror he perceived his masters beard to be on fire. With much haste he threw the contents of the pitcher all over Sir walter. Luckily for the servant, Raleigh saw the funny side and let it go. I think I may have set light to the servant for wasting good ale.

One of Raleigh’s pipes, a gift from the Red Indians resides in the castle museum.

Raleigh’s good fortunes were about to take a turn for the worst, when in 1603 Queen Elizabeth died. Following Elizabeth’s death, James I was crowned king in 1603. It was James I who would be instrumental in the eventual downfall of Raleigh; the curse was about to catch up with him.

Sometime after the kings coronation, Raleigh found himself implicated in a plot instigated by Lord Cobham to replace James with his cousin, Lady Arabella Stewart. He was arrested and tried and although he managed to dodge the axe, he was to remain in the Tower of London for the next 13 years. A small portrait painted during his incarceration hangs on the wall in one of the ground floor rooms. A vision of a sad, dishevelled and broken man, which is in stark contrast to the large portrait of him hanging on the opposite wall during happier times at Sherborne. During his incarceration his beloved estates were forfeited to the crown. King James I eventually allowed the property to be purchased by Sir John Digby in 1617, who added four more wings during the 1620s in a similar style.

Raleigh eventually managed to secure his release by promising King James that he would sail to Guiana to bring back a fortune in treasure. The expedition was to end in disaster, not only did Raleigh have to contend with a mutinous crew but also the tragic loss of his son during a clash with the Spanish. Hearing of the Raleigh's confrontation, a furious King James, keen to curry favour with Spain, ordered Raleigh to return where he was promptly arrested and once more thrown into the Tower of London. From there he was tried, his punishment was read out on 28th October 1618, where he was informed that he was to be beheaded the next morning.

Raleigh went to the block on the morning of 29th September 1618 and was heard to ask of the executioner if he may examine the blade. Running a finger along its edge he remarked, ‘a sharp medicine, a cure me thinks for all diseases’. His final words before the axe fell were ’strike man strike‘. Raleigh was laid to rest in St. Margarets' Westminster where his tomb can be viewed today.

The Ghosts of Sherborne

It is Raleigh’s ghost that has been seen many times walking the grounds dressed in splendid court attire. He is said to stroll amongst the oaks until he reaches his favourite stone chair, whereupon he appears to mournfully gaze out across the estate. His ghost is reputed to be more active during the autumn months, especially around the anniversary of his death - 29th September.

One of the most current ghosts is believed to be that of Lady Charlotte Digby (the Wingfield Digby family acquired the house after Raleigh’s death) who’s sons inherited the house following the death of their father. Lady Charlotte took on the mantle of housekeeper and it is believed her frequent appearances are her way of checking up that all is in order. One such encounter was recalled to us by one of the guides during our visit. She told us of one afternoon whilst she was on guide duty and sitting in the Blue Drawing Room, she happened to noticed an elderly lady with a mop of white hair peeping around the door. She thought nothing of it at the time, assuming the lady was part of the visitors party she could hear chatting to another guide in the adjoining room. Moments later, she got up and walked through to the Green Room (the adjoining room) where she enquired of the other guide as to the whereabouts of the elderly lady. There is no elderly lady in the party replied her colleague. She was then asked to described who she thought she had seen. To her surprise, her colleague told her that what she had seen, was more than likely the ghost of Lady Charlotte Digby, who’s portrait hangs in the Green Room. Many people have mentioned an odd atmosphere when passing along the short corridor that links the two rooms, in fact some visitors wont even enter the Blue Drawing Room. I have to say on that particular day we felt nothing unusual. The guide went on to tell us that recently a medium visited the house and described many of the spirits therein, apparently having no prior knowledge of Sherborne’s ghostly history - the internet, books, word-of-mouth perhaps…oh “Doubting Thomas” me.

Another one of the guides we spoke to, this time whilst in Raleigh’s Bedroom, told us of occasions when she has been locking up at the end of the day alone. She described often feeling uneasy, as if she were being watched. She also mentioned the current custodians of the house (the Wingfield Digby family do not live in the house but reside in a modern farm house close by) who have reputedly heard footsteps hurrying along the upper floors when they have been the only people in the house. The swishing and rustle of a lady’s dress has been heard fleetingly in the Green Room . Their children have reported seeing the figure of a man on the roof dressed in dark clothing looking down at them. This was before the recent work carried out on the roof by workmen, one of which reported hearing someone behind him say “you be careful with that mind”. He turned round to discover he was alone. We were also told that some of the working party employed to do repairs in the house only work there once - can‘t imagine why.

In his book Ghosts of Dorset, Peter Underwood describes the experience of Lady Chatterton in 1878 during her stay at Sherborne. She was to sleep in Raleigh’s Bedroom with her nurse in the next bed. In the dead of night she was awoken by an intense white light dancing about the room and within the light she observed men fighting and shouting as they passed overhead. The whole spectacle appeared like ‘reflections cast by a magic lantern’. She was terrified and looked across to her nurse for help. To her horror her nurse was sat bolt upright in bed but not awake, for she seemed to be transfixed by the light and communing with the spectres by pointing at them and making gestures for them to leave. Leave they did, for the manifestations ceased as soon as they had begun and the feeling of dread ebbed away. The nurse fell back on her pillow, apparently exhausted. The following day the nurse seemed oblivious of the previous night and said nothing to Lady Chatterton, or anybody else for that matter.

The sounds of clashing swords and men shouting are still heard on the upper floors and especially in Raleigh’s Bedroom.

Sherborne Castle remains the family home of the Digby family and it would seem the curse has died with Sir Walter Raleigh. As for the Old Castle; well, that was reduced to ruins by Fairfax of the Parliamentarians in 1645.

Our visit to Sherborne's Castles proved to be a relaxing, informative and inspiring day. We very much enjoyed chatting to the guides and strolling through lovely peaceful grounds, which overlook a tranquil lake designed by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown in 1753. Sitting in Sir Walter Raleigh’s chair, one could imagine him writing his poetry and smoking his pipe whilst enjoying his home and gardens, just as we did.

Crop Circles - no little green men please

2010-06-29T12:35:00.047+01:00

Can someone please tell me why there are still people out there who are convinced that crop circles are the work of little green men or some other paranormal influence. Only today, a friend of mine working at a college near Devizes, a college currently running a “crop circle” course, whatever that entails, telephoned to tell me she had overheard one of the tutors discussing the most recent of Wiltshire‘s crop circles with one of the attendees. He was referring to the figure-of-eight circle, which appeared on 16th June between the villages of Chirton Bottom and Urchfont. The tutor was heard to say, “they are just too perfect to be man made - there's no doubt about it“.

I’m at a loss to understand why these individuals, who I’m sure are making a fast buck from lectures, the odd book - the very odd book, videos and suchlike off the backs of the gullible, can’t, or wont accept what is screamingly obvious to most of us. Is it really so difficult to accept that we mere mortals have the ability to produce a pattern in a cornfield? Consider some of mankind's achievements, in what is a relatively short period of time: Against all the odds, we have managed to put men on the moon (no conspiracy theories please) and bring them safely back home, no small feat when you consider NASA was utilizing less technology in the "Luna Lander" than you would find inside a Playstation 3. We developed technology which allows us to communicate from the four corners of the globe in the blink of an eye. We have the microchip, which can perform millions of calculations per second. We have learnt to fly and are now capable of travelling several times faster than the speed of sound. We have harnessed the power of the elements to enable us to produce power. These are just a few examples - not bad huh! But still, after all our achievements, these deluded fools are not prepared to accept we are capable of producing a bloody pattern in a cornfield. If these people would just stop and look at what Neolithic man has achieved at Avebury with the crudest of tools, then surely creating a pattern in a cornfield must be considered childsplay.

Is it by sheer coincidence that many of the circles appear in Wiltshire around the time of the summer solstice, when Avebury and Stonehenge are besieged by pagans and witches and druids and folk dressed up like wizards merrily waving staffs and wands about. I suggest such a gathering would be a golden opportunity for the circle makers to delight the gullible with their latest artistic creation. For is certain that amidst the strange and weird, who make the pilgrimage year after year and patiently wait in anticipation of something profoundly mystical to occur from just another sunrise on just another day, there are teams of artistic techno types who have meticulously planned their assault on Wiltshire's cornfields before, during and after the celebrations, and are ready, equipped and able to go stomp some more corn.

“Crop Art” as I prefer to call it, would seem to be on the decline, there are fewer designs appearing today than there were in the 70's, 80's and 90‘s. This is due in part to local farmers fighting back, especially in the coming season of 2012 (see sidebar) when any circles found will be immediately removed. It is also due to the ‘novelty factor’ wearing off. It’s like any mystery, when it’s been exposed it looses its appeal. Today crop circles are seen as an art form, often stunning, often beautiful, too often awful, but to local farmers who’s livelihoods they affect, there creators are regarded as nothing more than trespassing vandals, they have a point.

Nunney Castle

2010-06-20T16:11:00.023+01:00

South Wall

Battle Damage to North Wall

Brooding Ruins

Drawing from 1822 by J. C. Buckler, showing Cromwell's handy work

There have been few places I have visited that I can honestly say were as peaceful and tranquil an experience as Nunney Castle, which came as a surprise when you consider it was a Saturday when my partner and I decided to pay Nunney Castle a visit. I must say, we had expected to have to battle through hordes of tourists suffering from acute “Pentax Eye” accompanied by legions of bored, irritable children wanting ice-creams and other distractions. However, this was not to be the case, as we were pleasantly surprised to find we had the castle entirely to ourselves, bliss.

The castle was built in 1373 by Sir John Delamere after securing a licence from King Edward III to erect a fortification at Nunney. Not the most grandiose or fortified of castles, Sir John instead favouring a French style château, no doubt his choice influenced by his time spent in service during the French wars.

He never intended the castle to be a stronghold, in fact it was built more as residence than a fortification, constructed at a time of relative peace. The walls were fashioned from aslar (dressed stone) not the most resilient of materials against possible attack but certainly beautiful to behold. The castles only defence were a number of arrow slits or bow loops, even these were few and far between and one can‘t help thinking that Delamere had them installed for show rather than for any strategic advantage. The only entrance had no portcullis to lower in case of assault, just a wooden drawbridge which spanned the moat, one of the deepest in England, at approximately 10ft. Again, it would appear the entrance was constructed more for aesthetics than a deterrent.

The castles structure was to be tested, when in 1645 Oliver Cromwell's army commanded by Thomas "Black Tom" Fairfax despatched two regiments to lay siege to Nunney Castle under the misapprehension that it contained a sizable stash of ammunition and arms - it didn‘t. Taking position on high ground, Fairfax let rip with a single cannon shot (the cannonball can be seen in All Saints Church opposite) which successfully demolished the north wall which in turn forced a rather hasty surrender by Colonel Prater who was ‘holder’ of the castle for the King at the time. The north wall eventually crumbled and fell into the moat where it stayed until the early 1900’s when it was cleared of rubble and partially restored.

A.W. Coysh’s book “The Mendips”, tells of the eventual auction of Nunney castle in 1950. Described as “a valuable relic of domestic architecture of the 14th century”. The castle, its lawns, brook and moat went under the hammer and were purchased for the princely sum of just £600 by Mr. Rob Walker of the Johnny Walker Whiskey dynasty. In fact it is a Walker, Mr. R.R.C. Walker to be precise, who is the current owner and who also resides in the village

Hauntings

The quite unassuming Gibbet Hill lane between the village of Nunney and Frome, is said to be haunted by a phantom hitchhiker. Describe as male, in his mid thirties and wearing a check sports jacket and casual trousers. This chap seems to take great delight in thumbing lifts from unwary motorists, only to vanish in front of their eyes should they be gracious enough to stop and offer him a lift. There is one story which appeared in the national press (in fact many stories of this ghost appeared in the national press) surrounding an encounter with the “phantom hitcher“. A motorist driving along Gibbet Hill lane stopped to pick up a gentleman thumbing a lift beside the road. As he got into the car, the driver asked him where he would like to be dropped off, at that moment his would-be passenger abruptly vanished. The same ghostly hitcher has also been seen many times in the lane leading up to the castle. Some motorists have been so shaken by their encounters that they have filed reports with the local police.

One other ghostly tale is that of a 'cloaked woman', who is said to walk beside the moat at dawn. Her history is a little sketchy but it is thought she was accused of witchcraft and put to death outside the castle walls.

Rumours

The locals still talk of rumours surrounding buried treasure somewhere beneath the castle ruins and there being a secret tunnel running from the castle to the church of ‘All Saints’ opposite. There is a stark warning near the gate leading up to the castle prohibiting the use of metal detectors. Is this a cautionary warning to dissuade the treasure seeking opportunist I wonder.

Peace Remembered

As I walk through these castle ruins an unmistakable chill asserts me, yet a warm summers day awaits me without. As I gaze upon its once elegant halls now crumbling. As I look skyward at its splendid towers now home to a thousand birds. As I run my fingers along its weathered walls and imagined who might have walked these same steps and touched these same walls and who might walk them still.

To close: Nunney castle stands as a hauntingly romantic visage of a time long since past. Its charm enhanced by the most elegant of moats, neatly manicured lawns, babbling brook and the quaint peaceful village of Nunney.

Can Some Locations Elicit Preconceptions?

2010-06-07T17:00:00.051+01:00

Let's ask my 'hypothetical' psychologists that question. I would imagine their response to be something akin to, “what exactly do you mean, ‘elicit preconceptions'?" What indeed! Well, I can best describe it as the ‘feelings’ that some claim to experience when told that a location they are about to enter is either reputedly haunted, or there has been an unpleasant 'incident' therein. Would my hypothetical psychologist, having been given this example respond, “had these same people you describe not been privy to such ghostly tales or the like, would they still experience these ‘feelings' you describe? I very much doubt it.” My hypothetical psychologist may well have a point.

There are many people, especially so-called ‘sensitives’, who firmly believe some locations can and do, retain a residue, an atmosphere, a feeling, a certain 'something'. Some even claim to be in the presence of spirits in such places.

How many times have you walked into a room and thought to yourself, this is a happy place, I could spend time here and conversely, this is an sad place, I would like to leave now please? What makes people decide what is good and what is bad about somewhere, after all, there is every likelihood they have never been here before, know nothing of its history, and yet they sense something is not quite right.

I have a theory. When some people enter a strange room (I will use a room as an example in this case) they are immediately bombarded by its visuals. Many will immediately take in its décor, its smell, how well it’s lit, how it’s furnished etc and subconsciously assess and compare it with their own tastes. If it doesn’t meet with their expectations, then the result is all too often, “I don’t like this place, it doesn’t feel right“, when in actual fact, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the room that a lick of paint and some decorative imagination and thought from that individual would almost certainly put right. This spontaneous mental assessment tends to colour some peoples perceptions and can project negative feelings about a room which others would find perfectly acceptable.

This explanation may go someway to rationalize the feelings of dislike and apprehension some get about a place. Feelings which are based on nothing more than first impressions, gained from their own personal tastes and nothing more. It is a fact that many property vendors go to great lengths to ensure their homes have the correct ambiance. Little tricks are used to great effect, for example, the smell of ground coffee, baked bread and the subtle fragrance of fresh flowers are often a sure-fire winner to help create a welcoming, friendly ambiance for a prospective buyer. It is an inherent trait in most of us too present our homes as somewhere where we enjoy living and hope others will find comfortable and cordial. We strive, well some of us do, to create that all important 'first impression'.

Consider that special welcome you get from your local village pub. Its roaring log fire, low oak beams, the smell of wholesome cooking wafting in from the kitchen, fine ales and wine to savour but most importantly, the ambiance generated by the friendly locals and hearty landlord and landlady. Surely there is no mystery attached to a buildings ambiance, it is in essence its people that generate its atmosphere, it's the living that create a comfortable inviting décor. It is the locals at my village pub that produce the banter and laughter and that special welcome that makes you want to go back again and again. If you, like me, have been to pubs, or anywhere else for that matter, which are the exact opposite to the one I have just described, would you want to go back? Of course not! "Had a bad ‘feeling’ about the place you know - bloody unfriendly!“

What I‘m trying to say, is that I think that sometimes folk have preconceptions about certain places, occasionally negative ones, often impressed upon them at an early age. Take the churchyard for example - eerie places churchyards or so we‘re told, especially at night and under a pale misty moon. You should have been home 30 minutes ago, so you decide to take a shortcut, a shortcut which will lead you ultimately through the churchyard, which means passing countless graves. Your pace is nervously brisk as you hurry through this garden of the dead, your senses alert for the faintest of sounds, acutely aware that at any second icy skeletal fingers will reach up from beneath the damp, cold earth to grab at your ankles, but they never do, do they.

If that wasn’t bad enough, consider the old derelict house just down the street, the doors and groundfloor windows all boarded up now, but you can still get in if you know where to look. They say it’s haunted you know, only the foolhardy go there after dark, in the night. The garden has succumbed to an army of marauding weeds which have chocked the life from once pretty flowerbeds and invaded the once meticulously manicured lawn. Inside, a layer of dust covers everything like a thick grey shroud. Long abandoned cobwebs hang from every corner, their weavers now just shrivelled husks, a brief life spent in endless construction. The firstfloor window frames, now rotten and splitting, most of the windows have been smashed by neighbourhood kids, leaving jagged shards which still cling precariously and menacingly to splintered frames - nobody bothers, nobody cares. There is a smell too, sweet and sickly, cloying, tis the smell of death, the result of a decomposing rodent which has crawled under the floorboards to seek a place of solitude in which to expire. “Got a bad feeling about this place.”

I am of the opinion that places don’t harbour grudges or ugliness or evil. I'm feel sure it's an awareness of a locations history that can, and often does, ignite imaginations which may, in some, elicit preconceptions.

Some places leave a tragic ‘legacy‘, simply because of what took place there, whether it be a battle, an accident, or some other dreadful incident. Roundway Down (see sidebar) near Devizes was the scene of a bloody Civil War battle that claimed the lives of many men and horses in 1643. Today, there are still those who claim to have heard the cry of men and the whinny of horses as they fall in battle. This may well be true but then again, could this not be the product of a fanciful imagination - a preconception?

Urchfont Manor

2010-06-01T19:15:00.017+01:00

The village or Urchfont lies along the northern edge of Salisbury plain, approximately 7 miles south of Devizes. Urchfont Manor dates from about 1680, it was built on the site of an earlier house from which a fireplace and some other fittings survived and are now incorporated in the current building. It was Sir William Pynsent, who came to Urchfont in 1678 who was responsible for the construction of the new house.

Sir William Pynsent died in 1719 whereupon the estate passed to his son and heir – William Pynsent Jnr, who on his death in 1765 left the house (there was no heir) and its entire estate to the then Prime Minister - William Pitt the Elder, a gesture which confounded some of his peers. William Pitt later sold the property to the Duke of Queensberry, who already owned lands in the parish of Urchfont.

The manor passed through several owners before it was purchased in 1928 by Hamilton Rivers-Pollock. A distinguished lawyer who lived there with his family until his untimely death in 1940.

Hamilton Rivers-Pollock’s life was to be overshadowed by periods of depression following the crash of his fortune during the Second World War. It was on the 11th June 1940, during one of these desperate bouts of depression, that Hamilton Rivers-Pollock, after giving all his staff the day off, took a loaded pistol, approached his wife, who was seated at her piano and shot her once through the head. From there, he walked to the stable block and shot dead his horses, after which he returned to the house and shot his dog, before returning to his wife where he turned the weapon on himself.

A column in the Devizes Gazette made it clear that this was a 'very distressing case', as the couple were much respected in the community and a great deal of sympathy was felt for their children. Half the article talks about the couple's lives and their achievements. The second half goes into detail concerning the inquest. 'Mrs RP was found with a bullet wound to the head and the conclusion was that suicide was not possible. Her husband, who had been in a distressed state, was found next to her and had shot himself through the mouth'.

The manor was to pass to Rivers-Pollock’s son - Martin, who leased the property in 1941 to London County Council, who turned it into a hospital for the care and convalescents of children evacuated from London suffering from TB.

The house was eventually bought in 1945 by Wiltshire County Council to establish a residential centre for adult education. The college was officially opened in June 1947 and remains a place of learning today.

Hauntings

The ghost of a woman dressed in black, thought to be that of Mrs Rivers-Pollock is thought to haunt the manor. One such encounter with the 'Lady in Black' took place at Christmas several years ago. The staff had just finished locking all of the manor’s many rooms in preparation for the Christmas closure. They had gathered in the dining room to enjoying a drink before leaving for their Christmas break. Suddenly, two members of staff became aware of a figure of a woman passing the entrance to the dining room. Mystified and just a little concerned (bearing in mind that the manor was closed to residents for Christmas) they immediately went to investigate. Several minutes passed, when on their return, they had to admit that there was nobody else in the building.

A course tutor staying over in one of the bedrooms in the main building, described an eerie episode with his duvet cover. Waking up late at night because he felt cold, he noticed that his duvet was bunched up at the foot of his bed. Thinking nothing of it and assuming he’d kicked it off in his sleep, he hauled the cover back over himself only for it to be pulled away moments later.

A resident staying in the Coach house (an outbuilding) questioned staff the following morning as to who might have been walking about in the dead of night and furthermore, who might want to try her bedroom door handle.

Some of the housekeeping staff find servicing the top floor bedrooms can often be an “uncomfortable experience,” many claiming they have often felt like they are being watched. An electrician recently undertaking some work in one of these bedrooms, refused to work alone as he felt a presence was in the room with him.

Urchfont Manor has a dark history, of that there is no dispute but having visited the house several times and strolled through its pretty tranquil gardens, I have to say, I have felt nothing but peace in an environment seemingly untouched by time. Having said that, I still think there maybe something that wanders the corridors of this grand old manor in the dead of night.

St. John the Baptist Church - Wroughton

2010-04-30T08:57:00.020+01:00

St. John the Baptist Church

The Haunted Yew Tree

North face, where the ghost of a woman has been seen, possibly a victim of premature burial.

Evidence of a human settlement at Wroughton, can be traced to the Mesolithic period, though little archaeology has been forthcoming; unlike the many scattered finds found throughout the area putting a settlement at Wroughton during the Neolithic period; no surprise when you think that the Avebury stone complex is only a few miles south of the village. Evidence of there being a church on the site of the current building, date to at least the 10th century.

There is much evidence and indeed archaeology to support a Roman farming community at Wroughton. There is also the story that a bloody battle is reputedly to have taken place close by on the slopes of Barbury castle: It was the year 825AD, the battle of Ellendun (now part of Wroughton but with an ‘e‘ on the end) between King Beornwulf of Mercia and King Egbert of Wessex, was to end in a decisive victory for Egbert and a pivotal event in English history. Burial sites in the vicinity are believed to be associated with the battle.

On a recent visited St John’s and on entering the graveyard, I couldn’t help but notice an impressively large Yew tree to the south. It’s canopy covers some 60 feet or so in all directions. Centuries old headstones, encrusted with lichen, stand in its shadows, their inscriptions barely visible. As I approached the Yew, a sudden gust of wind disturbed its branches, causing its heavy bulk to creak and groan, it was at that moment when I recalled stories of its ghostly history.

I had lived in Wroughton for most of my childhood and had heard tales of something frightening which sometimes stood in the shadows of that ancient Yew. Many tales of folk seeing a ghostly figure of a man, a man believed to have hung himself from its very branches, earned this tree a place in local legend. Some had described their encounters as one of “being watched,“ particularity when preoccupied tending the grave of a loved one. Others claimed to have had a fleeting glance, a peripheral sighting if you prefer, of a “shadowy figure;” no sooner seen than gone.

Sightings of this mysterious wraith still occur today. The figure is always described as wearing black and standing beneath the Yew, (no mean feat considering how low its branches are) unmoving, just watching, its features indiscernible, disguised as they are by the trees deep shadows.

There is folklore attached to this old giant, which as kids, none of us ever had the gumption to try. The tale goes; that should you run around the trunk anti-clockwise on the stroke of midnight, then you will summon the Tree Ghost. What is not clear however, is once the Tree Ghost has been summoned, what method is deployed to send it back from whence it came. This is probably another reason why, as kids, we could not be coaxed into playing out this ritual. It is unclear whether the Tree Ghost and the shadowy figure are one of the same apparition.

A Story of Premature Burial.

The Victorians lived in fear of premature burial, so much so, they would go to extraordinary lengths to ensure they would not fall victim to a living entombment. The thought of being pronounced dead and then waking up in the cloying, suffocating blackness of ones own coffin was just too much to comprehend. One example of this ‘phobia’ was to instruct the coffin makers (before ones death of course) to make a small hole in the lid of the coffin. This aperture was to allow a chain to be passed through and attached to the hand of the body. The other end was then affixed on top of the filled grave to a post with a bell attached to it. I can't help but wonder, who would be prepared to sit all day and all night beside the grave, just in case its occupant should wake and tinkle the bell. It was this bizarre practice of chain and bell, that is believed to have given rise to the expression; “for whom the bell tolls”.

It was not until 1852, when the stethoscope became widely available, that a noticeable decline in errors regarding the pronouncement of death subsequent interment, would eventually eased the tortured and troubled minds of many a Victorian.

It is strongly rumoured, though not confirmed, that such a fate befell a young woman buried at St. John the Baptist during the 19th century. Shortly after her burial, it was discovered to the horror of the family physician, that the woman was subject to seizures which would paralyze her entire body and outwardly give the impression of death. Her coffin was hastily exhumed and when opened, it was clear to all that the body had moved but what was more horrific, was the discovery of deep scratches on the underside of the coffin lid, inflicted by the terrified woman’s desperate futile attempts to claw her way to freedom.

It is possible that the figure of a woman seen wearing a dress the colour of ash and in the style of the Victorian period, who stands motionless in the graveyard at the north face of the church, is that of the poor retch who met her death as a result of premature burial.

I think I may stick with cremation.

Sudeley Castle

2010-04-09T08:59:00.031+01:00

Sudeley Castle

The Banqueting Hall

The Queen's Gardens. One of the locations for Katherine's Ghost

Earliest records of there being a building at Sudeley date back to the 11th century. A Saxon manor was constructed at Sudeleagh and occupied by King Ethelred ‘The Unready’ - an unfortunate title. Nothing remains of the manor today.

Sudeley castle has seen many occupants over its 900 year history. One of its more prestigious residents was none other than Queen Katherine Parr - the last wife of King Henry VIII, who out lived him till her death in 1550.

It is believed the ghost of Katherine Parr, affectionately referred to as the Lady in Green, still haunts Sudeley to this day. The story surrounding her haunting is one of tragedy.

Following the death of King Henry VIII in 1547, Katherine did not have to wait too long before she was approached by Thomas Seymour, the younger brother of Jane Seymour. Thomas Seymour’s dogged determination to get closer to the crown would eventually be his undoing. He was well aware that Katherine had held more than a passing interest in him for sometime. So, following his first proposal to his daughter of 15 years - Elizabeth and her subsequent rebuff, he went looking for Katherine, intent on securing her hand in marriage. It came as no surprise when she accepted his proposal. The pair were secretly married only months after Henry’s death, much to the distaste of Katherine’s peers.

Sudeley castle was given to Thomas Seymour by Henry’s son - Edward VI, Katherine’s stepson. Henry had shown little interest in the castle and had allowed it to fall into disrepair. Thomas Seymour graciously accepted Edward’s gift and took the title, 1st Baron Seymour of Sudeley. The Seymours' moved into Sudeley accompanied by a great many staff, who immediately set about restoring the castle to its former glory.

Within a few months of their arrival at Sudeley, Katherine fell pregnant. She gave birth to a baby girl on August 30th 1548 and named her Mary. Sadly, tragedy was to follow, within a week of giving birth, on the 5th September Katherine was dead, a victim of puerperal fever. The fate of Mary remains unknown to this day. Records document her second birthday at a time when she was in the care of Dowager Duchess of Suffolk, a close friend and confidant of Katherine. Some believe she died as a child, whilst others believed she grew, married and had children of her own. I hope the latter is true.

Shortly after Katherine’s death, Thomas Seymour left Sudeley for London, abandoning Mary. Seymour’s insatiable lust for power eventually caught up with him. He was arrested and put on trial for treason. He was beheaded in 1549.

Sudeley passed to William - Marquess of Northampton, Katherine Parr’s brother.

Queen Katherine Parr was laid to rest in St. Mary's Chapel in the grounds of Sudeley. Her body was exhumed in 1782 after the Castle and Chapel had been left in ruins by the English Civil War in the mid-17th century. The lead casket was opened and to the astonishment of those who oversaw the exhumation, the body was found to be 'uncorrupted'. Katherine’s porcelain white skin and auburn hair remained intact as if she were asleep. However, lack of attention and knowledge saw the body quickly degrade. Queen Katherine was reinterred in 1817 by the Rector of Sudeley. Her body now rests undisturbed in eternal peace within a marble tomb.

Tomb of Katherine Parr in St.Mary's Chapel

The Lady in Green

Some members of staff claimed to have witnessed a "melancholy figure" who is said to stand looking out from a landing window which overlooks the gardens. Could this apparition be that of Katherine Parr? She is described as being tall (Katherine was nearly six feet) and wearing a green dress in the style of the Tudor period. Her ghost has also been seen in the “Queen’s Garden” which is still the original Tudor parterre. Again she is described as a melancholy figure who gazes forlornly into the ornate pond. Maybe Katherine still searches for Mary, the baby daughter she never got to know and love.

A Modern Victorian Ghost Story

There is another ghost at Sudeley, which has been seen much more frequently. It is said to be the that of Janet, who was employed at Sudeley from 1896 as housekeeper. Janet’s responsibilities were to ensure the strict management of the household and its many staff. She was a staunch purist when it came to segregating the male and female servants from one another at night. Janet administered the strictest of rules, and if broken, the offender would suffer her wrath. She was a formidable character.

Many of the maids were young, impressionable and often gullible, some in their early teens, a prime target for the attention of amorous males servants. Janet would have none of it, she would stand sentinel at the top of the stairs in the dead of night to ensure no after-hours “goings on” would ensue. At Sudeley, the servants bedrooms were split into two levels. The female bedrooms occupied the upper floors, whilst the males bedrooms were situated on the lower floors, separated as they were by a single staircase and as far as Janet was concerned, never the twain should meet.

So determined to protect the girls virtues, that even in death, Janet refuses to leave Sudeley and to this day her ghost has been seen by staff and visitors at the top of those very same stairs. She is described as being dressed in a mop cap, white blouse and long faded pink and white skirt. Her features are contorted into a frown of displeasure. Wow-betide any male suitor who should try to pass Janet.

Janet’s ghost is not confined to patrolling the stairs. She has been seen several times in the ‘needlework bedroom’ and also leaving the main guest bedroom and entering the ‘Rupert Room’, No doubt continuing with her daily ghostly chores. Janet’s ghost is now common place with staff and she is treated as one of the household.

Imaginary Childhood Friends

2010-03-15T22:09:00.026Z

(Image credit Ryden)

Many children claim to have imaginary or invisible friends and will happily play and interact with these unseen friends throughout childhood.

A study was undertaken several years ago by the University of Manchester. They found a staggering 60 - 70% of children studied, at some point during their childhood, acquired an imaginary friend. They concluded that this ’phase’ should not be cause for alarm amongst worried parents. On the contrary, the study revealed that imaginary friends were often an asset in developing a more creative, confident, articulate and socially more adept future adult.

Several years ago a friend of mine experienced a bout of imaginary friend phenomena with her 4 year old daughter. Occasional she would mention "the little girl that tucks me in at night." My friend thought nothing of this to begin with, until one time her daughter woke her in the middle of the night complaining rather sleepily, that the little girl that tuckers her in bed at night, wouldn’t let her go to sleep. An overactive imagination, possibly and most likely but would that account for keeping a child from sleep, when all she wants to do is just that?

My friend next door. (names have been changed but events are a true)

I can remember when I was about 8 years old, we lived in a village close to Swindon. We had not moved in long before I met Ian - the boy next door. I shall refer to him as Ian for this story, though that was not his real name. I immediately liked Ian and we would often happily play together. There was however one rather strange little quirk about Ian; he had an invisible friend who he called Tom - Tom shall be a pseudonym for this story. He didn’t actually come right out and say “I have an invisible friend called Tom," he just sort of introduced me to Tom one day after I had mentioned for the umpteenth time who he kept talking to.

Often when we played together, Tom would join in. Ian would suddenly be distracted from play, look into the distance and with a beaming smile announce Tom’s arrival, whereupon he would engage in conversation (albeit one way) as if a real person had joined us at play. I must confess this threesome took a little getting used to but I never once questioned Tom’s existence, I just kind of accepted it. Although I never saw Tom, I would happily play and talk with him Tom through Ian.

Sometimes I would be invited next door to Ian’s house for tea and would notice that Ian’s mother would always set another place for Tom. She would do this without a second thought, almost as if she too were aware of Tom’s presence. When I think back, I suppose she must have thought it a phase Ian was going through and like all childhood fantasies he would grow out of it sooner or later. Some may argue that acknowledging a Child's fantasy could be fuelling an unhealthy imagination and should be discouraged at every opportunity.

Occasionally I would ask of Ian as to the whereabouts of Tom, as sometimes he would not mention him. The response, more often than not, was a dismissive shrug of the shoulders and a single word response - “dunno!” Had they fallen out I would wondered, can you fall out with an invisible person? I never did find out on the rare occasions that Tom went walkabout, as Ian could not be coerced into offering any further explanation for Tom’s absence. Is was almost as if he were forbidden from divulging the reasons for Tom’s apparent absenteeism. This was a darker side to their relationship and when I think back now, just a little disconcerting and chilling. Sometime arguments would breakout between them, by arguments I mean a one way heated exchange with thin air. Sometimes things got so bad that Ian would just up and leave marching off indoors, while I sat there open mouthed and feeling just a little scared.

We eventually moved away when I was about 12 years old but I still recall that Ian still had Tom as his companion. We didn’t speak much during that final year or so before we moved, not because we had fallen out or because I had tired of invisible Tom, it was just that we kind of drifted apart. Kids tend to have circles of friends, which change with the weather and I was no exception. I had new interests which brought new friends and I suppose on reflection Ian did not share my interests, although he never said as much. It was never my intention to ostracized Ian but he just saw fit not to join in we us.

I have not met Ian since moving away but would love to catch up with sometime and get his take on Tom today.

Do children see the dead?

There are some who believe that children have strong psychic abilities and are able to see the dead. This would go some way to explain the imaginary friend phenomena. It is thought that most children lose their psychic ability as they mature into adulthood and adopt a more logical outlook on the world. A door closes on our childhood and shuts out a time when our imagination was limitless and unquestionable. In adulthood we block those images we can’t easily and rationally explain, preoccupied as we are, with the tasks of day-to-day living in the organized chaos of the 21st century - we become desensitised.

I wonder if those lucky people (or unlucky if you prefer) who say they are still in tune with the spirit world; call them psychics or sensitives if you like. I wonder if their particular 'door' is somehow still left ajar. Many of these people claim their first encounter with the spirit world was as a child.

The death of a child is heartbreaking to those it leaves behind but consider for a moment that child's spirit, its soul, its life-force if you will. A young life barely at the threshold of life's journey of discovery suddenly snuffed out. A life-force that had been so vibrant and strong up until death. Could that same life-force be strong enough to punch a hole back into the domain of the living, or am I in danger of walking in the realms of fantasy. If this be true, then maybe that child's earthbound spirit, soul or life-force does what any child would do if suddenly found alone and that is to seek out companionship amongst its own and go in search of a little friend.

Whatever you believe invisible or imaginary friends to be, there is one thing for sure, those children that claim to have had one or have one, truly believe and who would be brave enough to refute their claims.

St. Nicholas Church - Biddestone

2010-03-08T22:30:00.012Z

The picturesque Cotswold village of Biddestone, lies just off the A4 west of Chippenham. It dates from Saxon times and is probably how one would imagine a quintessentially English village should look. The village green and duck pond are flanked by quaint cottages and some rather opulent 18th century houses. A couple of traditional English pubs serving fine ales and wholesome fayre complete the picture.

The church of St. Nicholas was built over Saxon foundations but is mainly of Norman construction. A magnificent and hefty 300 year old oak door opens into the nave where a 300 year old font dominates the central aisle. The church organ, which is a mere 200 years in comparison, was reputedly last played in 1972.

The rare bell turret was built in c.1480 and was constructed to house the medieval Sanctus bell, which was rung religiously (pardon the pun) three times a day at the point of consecration, so the ploughmen, farmers and Shepherds in nearby fields, who were unable to attend the service, could cross themselves.

It is said that the graveyard is haunted by the figure of a man dressed in black who was reputedly hanged there. Just what his crime was, and the date of his execution seemed shrouded in secrecy. Several attempts to extract more information from the local diocese have been met with a wall of silence. Are we to believe, if the story be true, that the church is a little embarrassed by this past transgression?

After some research with the Wiltshire & Swindon History Centre, it would seem unlikely that anyone would have been hanged on church premises. It is more likely that the individual was hanged locally and buried in the churchyard in unconsecrated ground.

Savernake Forest & Hotel

2010-02-22T15:17:00.033Z

The Royal Forest of Savernake lies close to the historic market town of Marlborough. It covers some 4500 acres and is one of England’s oldest woodlands, believed to be more than a 1000 years old. Earliest records of Savernake date back to 934 when ’Safernoc’ as it was referred to in the Saxon charter by King Athelstan first appeared.

Savernake is privately owned (the only privately owned forest left in Britain) by the Earl of Cardigan and family trustees. The upkeep of the forest is now the responsibility of the Forestry Commission. A large proportion of the Savernake is still open to the public, where one can enjoy peaceful woodland walks and take in Savernake’s abundance of wildlife, ancient trees and landscapes.

Royal Connections

In the 16th century, a branch of the Seymour family living at Wulfhall, near Burbage, had as its Warden of Savernake Forest - Sir John Seymour. Sir John’s daughter - Jane, was later to marry King Henry VIII - his third wife. It was not unusual for Henry to visit Savernake and indulge in his passion for deer-hunting. It was during one of these visits with the Seymour family, that his attraction for Jane blossomed. She was to be the only one of Henry’s wives to bare him a son - Edward, later to become Edward VI. Soon after Edward’s birth, Jane became ill and died shortly thereafter. It was well known that Henry regarded Jane as his only ‘true love’. Jane was to be given a Queen’s funeral, the only one of Henry’s wives to receive such status. She shares his tomb at St. George’s Chapel -Winsor Castle, again, the only one of his wives to do so.

Haunted Savernake

Savernake has many ghosts but probably the most famous is that of the Headless Horsewoman. This terrifying apparition of a headless woman sat astride a huge white horse, is said to gallop at breakneck speed along The Grand Avenue which runs through the centre of the forest. The story behind this haunting is one of horror and tragedy: During one Royal hunt, the unfortunate woman’s horse took fright and bolted into think woodland, whereupon horse and rider parted company at a point where a low forked branch interrupted their passage. A branch I may add, which took off her head with the greatest of ease. It is unlikely as some would suggest, that this spectre is the ghost of Jane Seymour. As I recall, Jane Seymour was one of the lucky ones to have kept her head.

Further sightings include that of a family visiting Savernake from Reading in 1968. They were enjoying a peaceful afternoons break, when suddenly they were startled by the sound of an approaching horse. The sound of hooves seemed to be “all about us”, one of the parties members later recalled. During this frightening encounter, another member of the party happened to glimpse a shadowy form of a horse and rider as it passed through the trees at great speed.

In 2002 a group of walkers were strolling down the Grand Avenue when they became aware of the sound of a horse approaching at speed. The thunderous sound "engulfed us" then faded away into the distance, on this occasion nothing was seen.

Woodland Apparitions

There have been many sightings of so called ‘woodland apparitions‘. Often being described as shadowy - animated figures, some human in appearance and some animal. One such ghostly animal is that of a white stag. These spectral wraiths are said to dart amongst the ancient trees especially at dusk.

I am not surprised that Savernake should harbour such a rich tapestry of hauntings, bearing in mind its medieval hunting heritage.

********************************

The Savernake Hotel

Savernake Hotel 19th Century (Image credit www.burbage.wiltshire.com)

Savernake Hotel today, now privately owned

At the edge of the forest stands the Savernake hotel, built by the Marquis of Ailesbury in 1864, as a catchment area for passengers disembarking at Savernake station, now abandoned. It is a little perplexing why the Marquis should decide to build his hotel 8 miles from the station, hardly on the door step. He must have recognized his error, as in 1868 he arranged for a road to be built that would cut the commute to his property ensuring a more regular trade.

Many ghostly encounters have taken place over the years at the hotel, none more so than the frequent encounters by residents and staff of a large black dog said to haunt the grounds, kitchen and bars. One visitor actually stepped over the animal when she approached the reception to register. Her husband was heard to enquire of his wife what it was that she was doing. “Stepping over the dog!”, came her reply. “What dog?” countered her husband.

The phantom dog's appearances are all the more surprising, given that dogs were barred from the public bars.

Another frequent visitor to the hotel was an elderly Victorian gentleman, who was often spotted sitting in the lounge bar smoking a pipe. Residents have also reported seeing the same gentleman upstairs. One such incident was recounted to staff by a rather shocked resident. She described how, when returning to her room she was suddenly confronted by an elderly gentleman who: “Appeared from nowhere, then walked straight across our path directly through a locked door”.

The bar staff had reported the taps which supplied gas to the beer pumps being turning off. This mystery deepened when the manager at the time locked the cellar door (with the only set of keys) only to discover the gas had been switched off again overnight. Other disturbances include: doors opening by themselves, keys going missing and lights switching on and off.

Today, the hotel has been converted into three homes but retains much of its original features. I can't help but wonder if the hauntings still continue. Begs further investigation me thinks.

A Morbid Fear of Stairs

2010-02-06T14:57:00.041Z

Have you ever wondered what is about stairs that can, for no logical reason instill a totally irrational dread in some people? The boffins have even given it a name, Climacophobia - a morbid fear of stairs.

Like all phobias, Climacophobia is a state of mind, often endured over many years. A psychological scar, possibly the result of fall at an early age from stairs or a slope. Alternatively, it could be triggered by seeing someone else badly hurt as a result of a fall.

Let me put the phobia element to one side for a moment and concentrate on the nonsensical, that moment when, as rational human beings, we are temporarily blinded by such an inexplicable terror as to leave us frightened to death by this most innocuous of inanimate objects. This appointment with fear is instantaneous, sudden and unsolicited, it’s a one-off with no previous history, it is irrational and yet it causes our minds to effectively miss a gear and our rational to evaporate into utter dread.

Let me give you an example:

Picture the scene if you will. It’s late at night, you’re alone downstairs, the rest of the family has long since gone to bed. The late movie is over so you decide to retire. You switch off the television, you may have a quick tidy round, check that all the doors are locked. When you‘re happy with your end of evening ritual and comfortable in the knowledge that all is secure, you switch off the lounge light and step into the hallway where you switch on the hall light, which in turn instantly illuminates the stairwell - your stairwell - the stairwell you have been climbing up and down since the day you moved in without a thought. This time however, on this night, something doesn’t feel quite right, you can’t put your finger on it but there's is a knot in the pit of your stomach that wasn’t there a minute ago. A tense uneasiness starts to manifest itself at your very core.

Nervously, you switch on the landing light before extinguishing the hall light, don’t want to be caught out in the dark - in the quiet and at the foot of the stairs. Tentatively you put one foot on the bottom stair. That‘s another thing! Why do all stairs creak? You start your assent. About a quarter of the way up the uneasiness tightens its grip, your heartbeat quickens, you sense that something is behind you and close at your ankles, a malevolent presence that at any moment is going to grab you and haul you back down to confront some unimaginable terror. You dare not look back, for looking back would only cause you to confront your worst fears...

Now, it’s at this point when commonsense goes out of the window and several rather overexcited neurons deep inside your head, decide to empty a bucket full of adrenalin over your brain. The result of this sudden chemical assault, is a burst of energy which sends you racing up the remaining stairs three at a time as if the devil himself were chasing you.

Once at the top of the stairs, you seek refuge behind the bathroom door, throwing the lock as you do so. With your back pressed firmly against the door, your body bathed in a cold sweat, your heart pounding in your chest, you try to catch your breath whilst feeling just a little foolish. You may at this point ask yourself a very pertinent question: What the bloody-hell was that all about? As you momentarily attempt to gather your thoughts, there comes a soft tap-tap-tap which emanates from the other side of the door. When you eventually pick yourself off the ceiling, you become aware of a faint sleepy voice drifting through the woodwork, “will you be much longer love, I need to pee?“ The sound of your partners voice has never seemed quite so sweet.

The above incident happened to me several years ago. I can not offer you any explanation for this momentary lapse of reason, other than at the time, I can assure you it was very real and pretty bloody scary. I really did think that something else was sharing my stairs with me. It has never happened since and hopefully never will again.

The fear of stairs is not just confined to Homo-sapiens. There are many documented cases where animals, especial dogs, have shown a reluctance to climb a flight of stairs where previously there had not been a problem. I know this to be true, as one canine I’m aware of refuses to climb a flight of stairs that leads into a cemetery quite close to were I live.

When you think about it, stairs can often be quite lonely and spooky places, neither here nor there, a sort of no-mans land if you like, exposed, between two floors, neither in one place or the other. It’s worth mentioning that many sightings of ghosts have occurred on or near stairs. Why this should be, I have no idea, other than the possibility that stairs are some kind of portal into the next world, I'm talking ascension theory here people.

To finish: Hollywood is no stranger in utilizing stairs as an effective means of creating a menacing atmosphere to terrorize its audience. Most notably, the scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho; a deranged Norman Bates stabs to death the unsuspecting Mr. Abrogast at the top of a flight of stairs. His agonizing slow-motion fall, as he tumbles backwards into oblivion is a vivid and terrifying moment.

Father Damien Karras’s dramatic finale, as he plunges to his death through a bedroom window and onto a cavernous flight of stone steps in William Friedkin’s The Exorcist.

F.W. Murnau's 1922 silent classic Nosferatu, pictured above, which contains arguably the creepiest of all staircase scenes. The emaciated shadowy figure of Nosferatu the Vampyre ascending a staircase to claim his next victim. Now that's the stuff what sofa cushions were made for.

Sleep tight…

Silbury Hill

2010-01-13T10:31:00.016Z

A moat, possibly, encompasses 70% of Silbury's base

North View

Silbury Hill, is an enigma, a mysterious artificial mound, whose purpose still puzzles archaeologists and scholars to this day.

Silbury Hill is situated on the A4 near Beckhampton. It lies in close proximity to the West Kennet Long Barrow and Avebury Stone Circle. Early Silbury dates from approximately 2100BC. Its completion is thought to be around 2500BC though dates vary depending on who you read. Though the latter date is further endorsed by the discovery and subsequent carbon dating of several antler-picks found near its summit.

The summit is a flat affair measuring approximately 98 feet. At its base, some 70% of the mound is surrounded by a ditch which is permanently waterlogged. It is not clear whether the ditch was dug intentionally, or was simply a by-product of building material. Whatever the reason, it is an attractive addition to the mound, appearing as if Silbury has a moat.

Silbury's was constructed in three steps or terraces, the first rudimentary mound was approximately 20 feet high. Each subsequent step was constructed using fashioned chalk blocks smoothed to give Silbury its 60 degree slope then backfilled and packed with rubble, sarsen stone, crush chalk and earth. Silbury hill stands 130 feet high and has a base circumference of 1640 feet. It comprises of 12 million cubic feet of chalk, earth and boulders and covers approximately 5 acres at its base. It has been calculated by archaeologists to have taken in excess of 18 million man hours to complete. At the time of its construction, Silbury may well have been the tallest manmade structure in the world, predating even the Pyramids of Egypt. Today it is recognized as being Europe's tallest man made mound.

Carbon dating would seem to suggest that work started around 2100BC, as mentioned earlier. Remains of plants and insects, especially winged ants, would indicate that work began on the lower earth mound around August, probably at the time of the Celtic festival of Lammas, at the start of the harvest season. This theory is further endorsed by the mound being visible from settlements that would have existed at Avebury two miles to the north and may have been symbolic during harvesting. This adds further speculation to the mound being associated with harvest rituals.

More fanciful theories for Silbury's construction have grown over the centuries, here are just a few:

1, A burial site for King 'Zel' or Sil, said to be sat astride a golden horse and buried deep within the mound. Excavations in 1723, 1776 and 1849 unsurprisingly failed to find any evidence of King Sil or his horse. His ghost is said to ride around the foot of Silbury when there is a full moon.

2, A solar observatory or giant sun dial has been suggested which may have been used to measure the seasons of the year. Silbury casts a shadow across the carefully levelled plain to the north towards Avebury. A ley line (a hypothetical line of subterranean 'earth energy' said to connect ancient sites) is thought to run from Silbury, through Avebury church terminating at Winterbourne Abbas. This ley, plus Silbury, may have been instrumental in contributing to the accurate calculation of the passage of the sun and determining when to harvest. I would have thought our ancestors intelligent enough to know when their crop was ready for harvesting by simply looking at it, as farmers do today.

3, A fertility symbol dedicated to the earth goddess and again used to calculate the passage of the year.

4, Folklore tells of a story involving the devil, who, on his way to bury the town of Marlborough under a sack of earth (folklore is a bit vague as to why the devil had it in for Marlborough)encountered the priests of Avebury. A much heated debate ensued, whereby the devil was forced to drop his sack of earth where he stood and hey presto! Silbury was born, lucky old Marlborough if you ask me.

5, Fairy Hills: from Irish fairy-lore. Fairies, Elementals and Nature Spirits were believed to inhabit mounds, and what a mound Silbury is, you could have a whole fairy city in that monster. Some say that in the dead of night, at a time when you were allowed access to the hill, muffled sounds of revelry and gaiety could be heard coming from within the mound. Some have even described thousand of twinkling shimmering lights dancing about Silbury's summit. At this point, fairy folklore gets a little darker. Should you find yourself enticed into a fairy mound - beware! For all is not what it seems. Although you will be welcomed and promptly invited to eat, drink and be merry by these ethereal entities, your eventual return and emergence back out into the real world will leave you horrified. Because, as you were innocently partying within the mound, outside, enchantment has dealt you a cruel blow, for one hundred years have elapsed and all those you loved and cherished are long dead.

6, Now I have a theory which will no doubt upset on or two of you, but I think it should be included in contemporary folklore. When Avebury stone circle was under constructed, what happened to all the earth that was dug out to create the deep trenches that run parallel with most of the stones, it had to go somewhere, where better than pile it up where Silbury is today - sorted!

When you stand before Silbury Hill, as I have done on many occasions, you can’t help but marvel at what is quite simply a staggering feet of engineering. You may consider what drove ancient man to undertake such a massive project. Silbury was most definitely constructed for a purpose but we will probably never know what exactly, but one thing is for sure, it was certainly no folly and it remains a stupendous enigma.

I think it poignant to mention that those who started building Silbury would never have seen its ultimate completion. But then I wonder, did those who worked on early Silbury ever intend or visualize that it would grow into what we see today.

Please note: access to the hill is no longer permitted, this is to prevent anymore erosion and damage inflicted by thousands of visitors over the years. Thank you for complying to the notices.

The Waggon and Horses - Beckhampton

2010-01-11T10:21:00.035Z

The Waggon & Horses. Note the enigmatic Silbury Hill in the Background

Beside the A4 between Marlborough and Devizes, stands a quintessential 'English pub'; The Waggon and Horses at Beckhampton.

The inn was built in 1669 primarily as a coaching inn and christened The Black Bear. Its walls were chiefly constructed from sarsen ashlar, which would have been quarried from either the Marlborough downs, or more likely Avebury henge, at a time when historic Neolithic stone circles offered little interest other than for building materials, which is clearly evident in several of the buildings in the village, including the church and Manor. In 1724 the inn’s name was to changed again to that of The Hare and Hounds. This was possibly in response to the hare coursing which was prevalent in the area at that time. Finally in 1823, it became The Waggon and Horses, a name no doubt derived from the waggoner’s and drovers who frequented the inn having travelled along what is now the A4, a route they would have used to drive their livestock between Bath and London markets. The inn offered accommodation, grazing land for cattle and a stable and smithy.

The Waggon and Horses appears in Charles Dickens’s ‘Pickwick Papers,’ and it is more than likely that Dickens would have visited the inn at sometime during his brief stay in Bath, a city incidentally, which Dickens is said to have loathed, describing it as ‘a mouldy old roosting place, built by a cemetery full of dead people‘. It is clear that the bard and I must disagree with regard to his scathing description of Bath, for to describe this beautiful city in such a derisory fashion just beggars belief and what's more, what does he expect to find in a cemetery other than dead people.

What follows is an extract from Charles Dickens "Pickwick Papers", which describes Tom Smart’s visit to the inn.

"Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the house as he threw the reins to the hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It was a strange old place, built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, with cross-beams, with gabled-topped windows projecting completely over the pathway, and a low door with a dark porch, and a couple of steep steps leading down into the house, instead of the modern fashion of half a dozen shallow ones leading up to it. It was a comfortable-looking place though, for there was a strong cheerful light in the bar-window, which shed a bright ray across the road, and even lighted up the hedge on the other side; and there was a red flickering light in the opposite window, one moment but faintly discernible, and the next gleaming strongly through the drawn curtains, which intimated that a rousing fire was blazing within. Marking these little evidences with the eye of an experienced traveller, Tom dismounted with as much agility as his half-frozen limbs would permit, and entered the house."

Hauntings

Given its age (and that’s no qualification for a place to be haunted) I suppose it’s not surprising to find the pub has acquired a haunted history. There are two ghosts said to frequent the area of the public bar. One is that of an elderly lady dressed in what appears to be a white smock. Some who claim to have seen her, think she maybe the ghost of a previous landlady. She is most often seen standing at the bar (customers side) her features are always described as ‘unclear’ or 'misty', so no positive identification has ever really been forthcoming.

The second ghost is that of a gentleman. He is said to be dressed in the style of Victorian England. Many of the locals over the years claim to have seen him leaning against the fireplace whilst smoking a pipe. He is accompanied by a small dog which is curled up at his feet. Sometimes the unmistakable aroma of pipe tobacco has been noticed near to the fireplace even when it has not been lit. Why that should make a difference I don't know, pipe tobacco has a distinct aroma which would be difficult to confuse with the smell of a log fire.

The A4, which passes immediately outside the pub is said to be haunted by a coach and horses. The sound of galloping hooves and the clatter of carriage wheels has been heard to draw up on the cobbles immediately outside the pub. The local Police have said in the past, that the audible distraction to passing motorists is believed to have been the cause of several accidents on the approach to the Beckhampton roundabout.

The old Roman road that passes close to Beckhampton was once a notorious spot for highwaymen who seized the opportunity to rob the wealthy who journeyed by coach from London to Bath in the 17th and 18th centuries. This “rouges thoroughfare” may also account for several other reports of ghostly coaches and horses seen hereabouts and also the occasional sighting of a caped figure wearing a tricorn hat, believed to be the ghost of Walter Leader - see sidebar for more info on Beckhampton’s highwaymen and Walter Leader.

With its close proximity to Silbury Hill, the West Kennet Long Barrow, Avebury Stone Circle and the medieval market town of Devizes; The Waggon & Horses is an ideal watering hole, providing excellent Wadworth beer from the wood and wholesome country fare, just what‘s needed after a day exploring the mysteries of Wiltshire’s ancient historic sites.

Waggon and Horses (01672 539418)

E-mail: waggonhorses@wadworth.co.uk

St. Mary's Walk - Devizes

2010-01-04T09:44:00.003Z

Running parallel to St Mary’s Church is St. Mary’s Walk. Many locals will not use this route after dark, simply because of who is buried there and the terrifying tales associated with the walkway.

During the Civil War of 1643, Devizes became overrun with the bodies of fallen soldiers, space was at a premium in the churchyards, so in desperation, a decision was taken to bury the bodies upright (standing room only people) close to the church in an effort to conserve space.

Recently, during redevelopment of the area, sixteen bodies were unearthed and reburied in St. Mary’s church. However, beneath the paving slabs of St. Mary’s Walk, there still stand many of the bodies of those lost souls.

Stories from unsuspecting individuals claiming to have had their ankles and feet grabbed by unseen hands, vehemently believe that they have been the victims of the ghosts of long dead soldiers, who are said to reach up from their graves beneath the paving slabs of St. Mary‘s Walk.

Many have witnessed 'vaporous looking figures,' which appear to stand unmoving on the walk way. I must say, having walked this route at night, it can be a pretty spooky place...I dare you!

Lydiard House and St. Mary's Church - Swindon

2009-12-28T14:18:00.011Z

Lydiard House

St. Mary's Church, haunted by a menacing cowled figure

A friend of mine recently challenged me by suggesting I write something about Swindon. Now I'm not one to shirk from a challenge but I have to say, on this occasion, trying to find anything remotely ghostly to write about Swindon was proving quite a challenge. I guess I should not have been too surprised, when Swindon’s only claim to fame appears to be a series of mini-roundabouts unimaginatively christened ‘the magic roundabout’ - sorry Swindon. That aside and after some arduous searching, I was lucky enough to receive a tip-off from another friend who duly pointed in the direction of Lydiard House on the outskirts of the town in a village called Lydiard Tregoze. As it turned out, Lydiard House and the adjacent church of St. Mary's, have both acquired a haunted history over the years.

Lydiard House and Grounds

Lydiard House was built in the sixteenth century and is a fine example of Palladian architectural style. It was occupied for some 200 years by the St. John lineage, pronounced sin-jin. Today, the house is owned by Swindon Borough Council and used primarily as a conference centre. The council have done an admirable job in renovating the grounds and lake, and are to be commended for their efforts in making Lydiard House and park a pleasant experience when visiting, a complete contrast to the dreadful town centre.

Haunted Lydiard House

Probably the most frequently seen of Lydiard's ghosts, is that of Sir John St. John. A staunch Royalist who’s life had been marred by tragedy when he lost three of his sons in the Civil War. His misfortune did not stop there. After the war, he was reduced to poverty by the parliamentarians simply because of his Royal support. His gusto and determination however proved the driving force to enabled him to rebuild his fortunes and restored his wealth.

His ghost has been spotted in the Morning Room and the adjoining Library, where staff and visitors have reported seeing him leant casually against the fireplace. A former caretaker by the name of Mrs Ingram said of the ghost, 'he appears quite solid, just like you or I and if it wasn’t for his sixteenth century clothes, then he would quite easily be mistaken for a living person'. Sir John’s ghost is not confined to the house it would seem, as he has been seen several times outside strolling about the estate and sometimes offering assistance to startled visitors. His presence is frequently preceded by a strong sweet smell of tobacco. His ghost has been describe as morose and melancholy, not surprising given the tragedies and misfortunes he had to endure in life.

There is a splendid effigy of Sir John inside the church of St. Mary's, together with those of his two wives and also a stunning gilt statue of his son Edward. This particular statue is often referred to as the ’Golden Cavalier’, now what a splendid ghost he would make.

Back inside the house, the spectre of a woman dressed in white has been seen several times on the staircase. No one knows for sure who she is but some speculate she could be the ghost of Lady Blunt, who’s apparition is said to appear every 30th October on the anniversary of her fiancés murder. This story is not confirmed however, but her ghost certainly is.

The grounds are also said to be haunted by the ghost of the little drummer boy who has been seen silently tapping out a beat on a drum slung across his shoulder.

A phantom coach and horses haunts the 'avenue' that leads up to the House. These stories were started by park rangers in the 1940's but continue to this day.

St Mary's Church

The church of St. Mary’s, which is situated in the grounds of Lydiard Park, is said to be haunted by the ghost a grey cowled figure. Many who have witnessed the apparition report a strong feeling of malevolence. There have been members of staff who, in the past, have refused point blank to enter the church alone after experiencing feelings of ‘someone watching them' or the sensation of 'being followed’. There have also been reports of organ music emanating from within the church after it has been locked up and secured. Other phenomena include the sound of a weeping woman and flitting shadows, only ever perceived peripherally.

Lydiard House and park is open to the public but if you wish to visit the church, then you will have obtain permission from the house reception.

St. Peter's Church - Broad Hinton

2009-12-01T20:12:00.006Z

South View

North View

An Unpleasant Experience This Way Comes

St. Peter’s ad Vincula Broad Hinton

The earliest records of St.Peter’s Church, date back to the thirteenth century, but a pair of tenth century Saxon window-heads, were discovered during repairs in the nineteenth century and are now incorporated in the interior walls. One to north face of the chancel arch and one to the west of the vestry. An ornate sarsen stone path was added in 1883 and circles the church. I do wonder if some of the stones may have been quarried from Avebury stone circle, some eight miles south…naughty!

The current church was restored in 1634 and work completed the following year. The church you see today has remained unchanged ever since. On first encounter, as you approach the lych-gate from the north, the building has a mysterious quaintness which feels untouched by time. The lych-gate opens onto the ancient sarsen path, which snakes invitingly past the church and out of sight, just beckoning you to follow.

Lady Winnifred Glanville of Broad Hinton Manor and Her Lost Treasure

In 1645, Lady Glanville, on hearing that Cromwell was to pay her a personal visit to claim unpaid taxes (parliament had decreed it was to recover all taxes owed during the years of 1644 - 1645) urgently gathered up all her silver, jewels and cash and secretly buried them somewhere in the village. The Glanville’s had insisted they had paid their taxes promptly and on time to the king but this would not prevent Cromwell from extorting more.

Arriving at Broad Hinton manor, Cromwell was met at the door by a distraught Lady Glanville brandishing a burning torch. Taken aback by the woman’s demeanour, Cromwell was stunned when Lady Glanville hurled the torch back into the manor directly onto a pile of wood, that she had stacked in the hall in preparation for his impending visit. The house was immediately engulfed in flames and Cromwell, seeing Lady Glanville had obviously lost her mind (as indeed she later would, suffering a breakdown and dementia) left empty handed.

There is another version of this story, that suggests that Sir John Glanville, Lady Glanville’s husband, set light to the property well before Cromwell’s arrival. In so doing denying Cromwell and his troops any claim on the property. I think the first version is more exciting myself. Picture the dear woman waving a burning torch under Cromwell’s nose, sounds so much more heroic.

Much later, a broken-hearted and mentally confused Lady Glanville - her husband now incarcerated in the Tower of London (formerly the speaker of the house) for supporting the wrong side during the Civil Wars. Her son Francis - dead, again a victim of the Civil War.

Francis's body was returned to Broad Hinton by request from Lady Glanville, where he was interned within St.Peter‘s Church. A statue of Francis was commissioned by Lady Glanville and can be seen in the church along with his gloves and helmet.

As for Lady Glanville’s buried fortune.

Her frail mind was such, that she could not remember where she had buried her treasure. It is believed to this day, that somewhere in the village of Broad Hinton, there lays entombed a considerable fortune. It is this fortune, that the ghost of Lady Winnifred Glanville is said to search for. Dressed in period costume, with a mournful expression, her ghost wonders the churchyard and the area near to the church tower. Some have even claimed to have seen her ghost about the village, close to where the manor used to stand.

St.Peter’s Ley Line

Near the tower, there are several stone steps which lead down to an underground chamber, just what the chamber had been used for (bearing in mind it was pitch black down there and the only way to see in was to use the flash on my camera) I have no idea. It was whilst descending these steps, that my partner, who accompanied me on that day, was gripped by an intense feeling of nausea, so much so, that she was unable to reach the bottom step. A little later, she would call me over and ask me to go down the very same steps. She mentioned nothing of her experience as I descended. When I reached the bottom, she enquired whether I had felt anything, “no” I replied, I had felt nothing, at which point she told me her story. Reluctantly she followed me down but again she felt unwell and had to return to the top.

We were both blissfully unaware of any ley line connection with St. Peter's until later, when I was reading up on the history of the church and happened to noticed a reference to ley lines in one particular journal. To my surprise, the document indicated that the ley crossed at the approximate vicinity of the steps.

The following is taken from said journal: A ley (a hypothetical line of ‘earth energy’ which is thought to align ancient monuments and places of geographical and historic importance) connects the village of Bincknoll Castle to St. Peter’s Church, where is passes through the lynch-gate then on past the rear of the tower. From there, it traces a line to Avebury, then finishes at Wansdyke - Tan Hill earthworks.

Ghost Hunting

2009-11-22T10:58:00.041Z

Ghost Hunting, in my humble opinion, is invariably cold; dark; damp; uneventful and rarely yields anything by way of tangible evidence. In fact in my experience, the search for this most elusive of quarries has never yielded anything by way of tangible evidence. Having spent many uneventful hours in reputedly haunted locations in my distant past, I can assure you, ghost hunting is not all it’s cracked up to be. So why do so many people find it so fascinating and want to get involved?

I suppose the supernatural could best be described as a final frontier of sorts, a mystery begging to be investigated. It is unlikely that the vast majority of us will ever venture into outer space or dive the deepest oceans, but all of us can investigate the supernatural if we so desire and by whatever method we choose. Ghosts and hauntings have been reported for thousands of years but it is only recently, say over the last hundred years or so, that people have actively started to investigate the supernatural and specifically the existence of ghosts.

What follows are my tips for ghost hunting. How you decide to investigate ghosts and what methods you choose, will be entirely of your own choice, here goes:

Firstly, I think it essential to research as little about the location you are going to investigate as possible, a shed load of history regarding its haunted past is only going to set some folks imaginations on fire, the fact the place is reputedly haunted should be more than enough information. I will give you an example of too much information prior to a vigil that can become lodged in folks heads before even erecting a tripod.

John Humphries, the owner of The Ram Inn in Wootton-Under-Edge, will allow you to stay at his 11th century home for a small donation and will include an in-depth and very informative tour of his home, complete with some bone-chilling stories. By the time he has finished his tour, you may well be forgiven if you decide to look for the door. There are some genuinely unpleasant ghosts reputed to haunt The Ram Inn and John’s stories will guarantee to send a chill down the spine of even the most sceptical amongst you, as they did with one or two members of my party who were genuinely quite disturbed by John‘s tales and took some persuading to stay the course. Make no mistake, The Ram Inn is a fantastic stage for a vigil, its dark brooding interiors, creaky stairs and of course its haunted history which include poltergeist activity, shadowy figures, unpleasant odours, incubus attacks, and a whole lot more just beg to be investigated. Should you decide to hold a vigil there, I strongly suggest you give the tour a miss to ensure a clear head.

Secondly, it is important not to go it alone (unlike one ridiculously staged U.K. TV show about hauntings I could mention) it's common sense really and I wont insult your intelligence by explaining why, other than several pairs of eyes and ears are better than one - just for confirmation. My party occasionally included a spirit medium, the tech crew, plus, and this is so important in my opinion, a couple of impartial observers, "waterproof sceptics" I like to call them. Essential to help keep the balance and ensure your party keeps its feet firmly on the ground, oh and inject a modicum of humour to boot.

Equipment

Okay; you have your team of intrepid investigators, you have obtained permission to do your first vigil; what equipment are you going to need? This is a tricky one and has been the bane of contention amongst ghost hunters for as long as I can remember. I am often bewildered when I see items on television and in magazines and books, showing teams of ghost hunters with an array of impressive electronic gadgetry which would not look out of place on the flight deck of the Space Shuttle: There are magnetometers, used presumably to measure the magnetic intensity of ghosts. Sound and motion-detectors, set to trigger at the slightest of movements; all well and good assuming a ghost has substance. I've even heard of folk taking Geiger Counters on vigils; does this mean horror-of-horrors! that some spooks maybe radioactive? An impressive assortment of thermometers to measure changes in temperature and identify those “cold spots.” Okay, the temperature has dropped a few degrees, so what does that prove, that there's a nip in the air or a draught from somewhere? I’ve yet to hear of a cold spot being a precursor to a full blown manifestation but I live in hope. There are a host of other bits and bobs that some ghost hunters have in their arsenal and good luck to them but I do wonder with all this gadgetry, if there has ever been a single case where a gizmo has confirmed conclusively the existence of a ghost; I guess not, as such proof would surely make global news.

The subject matter by its very nature is not, as far as I’m aware, something that can be measured by conventional electronic devices or any other gadget currently available. It can’t be quantified or measured or analysed in laboratory conditions, its very existence is pure conjecture; its very presence utterly elusive.

Peter Underwood, author of many books on the paranormal, president of the Ghost Club of Great Britain and an authority on ghost research, is said to take with him on vigils and possibly still does: torches and batteries, cameras, chalk dust, a reel of cotton, blu-tac and tennis balls. The torches and cameras, well they don’t need an explanation; the chalk dust was sprinkled about the base of objects in an attempt to see if the dust was disturbed, this could suggest the presence of poltergeist activity; or a draught - sorry Peter! The cotton and blu-tac were used to secretly secure the foot of doors against their frames, therefore effectively sealing a room. If the cotton remained unbroken, then it was safe to assume that nobody had entered that particular room. This practice was applied more for rumbling the hoaxer, than catching any ghost. Finally, the tennis balls, there purpose similar to that of the chalk dust, to encourage interaction with a playful spirit, one which hopefully may take the opportunity to move them.

Equip your party as you see fit, most items are common sense really; ensure all batteries are fully charged, take plenty of pens and paper, a Dictaphone is always handy gadget, as trying to make notes in half light can be difficult. Oh and don't forget something to eat and drink. The bottom line is, before you go out buying loads of equipment and bleeding your bank balance dry, I suggest maybe Mr Underwoods’ frugal approach and start off just using some of the items listed above. I have a feeling you might get similar results to those of the super-tech ghost hunters.

The Witness

Now to the witness, the most important part of any investigation. Take things slowly as some people can often appear quite distressed by what they are going through. Take this into account and proceed with empathy and consideration, asking relevant generic questions, you may discover much by just listening.

It is important never to refute anything that the witness may tell you, try to be diplomatic with your responses and offer a plausible explanation where possible for what maybe happening. It’s surprising, through discussion, how much can be discovered and explained with a little investigation of the immediate surroundings. If no explanation is forthcoming, then its time to set up your equipment with the minimum amount of fuss and disruption to the homeowner.

“You Don't Know What You're Doing!”

Finally, when you start researching and news gets around, as it invariable does, be prepared at some point to possibly attract the attention of certain individuals who will often vociferously insist you are meddling in “things you know nothing about.” These pompous fools will claim to be “in the know,” on all matters paranormal and supernatural. They will appear cocksure and dogmatic, so much so, that they will eagerly decry your methods and efforts to investigate the subject matter. I am not referring to fellow ghost hunters here - no! I am referring to certain individuals who are convinced they are in commune with the dead and very often will charge to “cleanse a house,“ a practice which I find utterly abhorrent, in as much as these individuals could be so brazen as to extract money from people in such a way and for what; to blithely inform them that following some phoney ritual or the like, that their homes are now free of ghosties?

If these people are so sure they have got it right, then surely there would be no mystery, nothing to investigate and this blog would not exist. The bookshelves at your local library would no longer weigh heavy under the weight of numerous tomes on the subject of the paranormal, the supernatural and for that matter - the afterlife and instead, would be considerably lighter holding just a small (very small) collection of volumes penned by these individuals explaining the correct method to research, film, record and even capture your very own ghost, which you could then presumably take home and store in a jar on top of the mantelpiece - mystery solved!

Whichever method you adopt to investigate the ghost phenomena, I wish you the very best of luck. Let me know how you get on.

The Ram Inn - Wotton-Under-Edge (Glos)

2009-11-16T09:47:00.009Z

I don’t as a rule write about my own investigations, but this particular one in Gloucestershire deserves a mention.

In a secluded valley in south Gloucestershire, lies the quaint Ango-Saxon market town of Wotton-Under-Edge. Within this historic town, there is one building that stands out (especially if you're a ghost hunter) above the rest -The Ancient Ram Inn. A grade two listed building, once the meeting place for highwaymen, thieves and other undesirables. The Ram is believed to date back to 1189 and is regarded as one of England’s most haunted establishments and certainly Wotton‘s oldest building.

The Ram Inn closed its doors as an inn in the late 50’s and stood unoccupied and slowly decaying for several years until the current owner - John Humphries read an article in a local paper which announced ‘the oldest building in Wotton-Under-Edge; The Ram Inn, is marked to be demolished for road widening’. John immediately seized the opportunity to view the building and fell in love with it. He persuaded Whitbreads' the brewery to sell the property, which they did for £2500. The deal was struck and John and his family moved in. The Ram had been saved.

A Brief History

As mentioned earlier, the town was originally an Anglo-Saxon settlement. It was due to John’s enthusiasm and endless research, that an old Saxon map came to light, revealing the The Ram was originally set in a circle ringed by huts. Later, whilst excavating the grounds, a row of wooden post holes were unearthed and what appeared to be the remains of an ancient Saxon dwelling. This ’pagan circle’, which also encompasses the nearby church, is rumoured to have been of mystical significance. The find was further endorsed by the discovery some time later of a crude grave in the ‘Men‘s Kitchen‘ (a ground floor room) which contained the skeletal remains of several children; a sacrificial dagger and various pieces of pottery. A good friend of John’s and a local dowser, is convinced there are more bodies buried under the building but this has never been confirmed as excavation work ceased after funds ran out. John has promised himself that one day when funds allow, he will complete the dig and hopefully unearth a secret subterranean tunnel which is rumoured to lead from the Ram to the 11th century church opposite.

The Ram Inn, with its low oak beams, brooding interior and an atmosphere to send shivers down the spine, positively instills a feeling of unease. From the moment you step into the building, you can’t help but feel a certain ‘something’. It's difficult to explain in hard print but I my opinion, if ever there was a place that deserved to be haunted, it’s this one.

Hauntings

The Ram has an abundance of unexplained ‘incidents‘, which have been witnessed and documented by many professional people over the years, including: doctors, clergy and the police, in fact folk from all walks of life have openly testified to having experienced things they could not explain.

Amongst The Ram’s many spectral inhabitants are: a cavalier, a monk, a shepherd and his dog, all said to haunt the ‘Bishops Bedroom’. A 'Grey Lady' called Elizabeth, who was allegedly murdered by highwaymen after overhearing a conversation she should not have been privy to. Indeed, the remains of a female skeleton were unearthed under the floor of the Men’s Kitchen and are believed to be those of Elizabeth. Her ghost has been seen walking from the ’Beaufort Bedroom’, across the landing and down the stairs, whereupon she vanishes at the point of her grave. The same flight of stairs is haunted by a 'shadowy, menacing figure' who takes great delight in pushing the unwary down the stairs. The stairs seem to be a focal point for ’cold spots’, which some believe maybe a manifestation of paranormal activity. The ghost of a young girl has been seen waving at passers-by from 'Beaufort Bedroom' window. It is said that even the road immediately outside the building is haunted by a phantom motorcyclist. The roar of its engine can be heard in the dead of night, as it thunders up to the front of The Ram then abruptly stops, only to be followed by repeated revving of the engine. When John has peered out from his bedroom window on countless occasions, there is never anything there.

Many people who have stayed at The Ram and particularly in the Bishop's Bedroom, describe the terror of being physically dragged from their beds by unseen hands in the middle of the night. Others have felt an ‘oppressive presence’ accompanied by flashes of light, sharp rappings on the walls and an unpleasant odour. Some who have stayed in the Bishop's Bedroom do not make it through the night and just up and leave.

The Bishop's Bedroom, which is regarded as the ‘heart of the house’ by many mediums and psychics (some of whom have refused to enter because of a 'malevolent presence‘) is where most of the 'paranormal activity' has taken place. On entering this room for the first time, my team and I were immediately struck by its deathly quite, which was odd due to its close proximity to the main road. Many people have experienced a presence in this room, including me - I think, which I will go into later. John recalled one incident that happened to him shortly after he and his family had moved in. He had just got into bed, had switched off the light, when suddenly he was grabbed by both wrists and flung out of bed. John has never slept in that room since that night.

Other disturbances which occur throughout the building included: heavy footsteps heard walking the attic, where a murder is said to have taken place; knocks, clicks, odours, furniture being moved, pools of water where there are no leaks; often a sign of poltergeist activity. Wisps of what appear to be smoke but without the associated smell. A powerful force said to pick people up and throw them across rooms. John has experienced this invisible energy, having suffered its wrath on several occasions. In one such encounter, he described being pinning to a wall for several seconds, whilst a friend of his was thrown across the room after trying to help him. This energy has manifested itself in other ways. One night John recalled locking himself in his bedroom, terrified by the melee going on in the adjoining room. Thinking there were intruders in the building, he grabbed an antique sword, mustered up the courage and flung open the door, at which point the noise ceased. However, John was astonished to see that all his furniture had been piled up in the centre of the room. John also believes that on several occasions, he has been the victim of succubus attacks (a medieval female demon with sex on her mind) whilst in bed. He describes being woken in the dead of night with a pressure on his chest and also the sensation of something entwining itself around his body - now that is scary!

Some animals are also effected by The Ram‘s ambiance. Many of John’s friends no longer bring their dogs to visit, as the animals will not enter the building but just sit outside whimpering.

During our investigation, John showed us many letters from people who had stayed and written about their experiences. One letter in particular caught my eye. Two builders were doing some work restoring one of the walls, when the younger of the two men heard footsteps behind him, thinking it to be his partner, he said something only to be met with a stony silence. Turning around to find out why there had been no response, he discovered the room was empty - he fled in terror. What is more, is the young man later swore blind that the footsteps chased him into the street. He was so shocked by his experience, that he ran across the road and in to the church, at which point the footsteps ceased and where he remained for sometime until he was eventually coaxed out.

The Investigation

My team and I (there were four of us in all) visited The Ram on three separate occasions during 1996 and clocked up some 50 hours there. During our stay there were several ‘incidences’ which I feel are worth mentioning.

On the first visit, after various items of electronic gadgetry had been deployed by our resident techno geek - Mike, we set about organizing our vigil. One pair would walk the building every thirty minutes, armed with torches and Walkie-Talkie’s, whilst the other pair would stay in the Bishops Room, which was to be our base camp.

The first night looked as if it might pass with little disturbance, in fact most of it did, that is until approximately 2:15 am. I was laying on one of the beds, in the Bishops Room, when suddenly my right foot was pushed quite hard downward. Startled, I glancing around the room at my three colleagues, expecting one of them trying to conceal a guilty look. I was surprised to see that no one had moved, two of my team were reading, whilst the ever attentive techno geek - Mike was dozing in a chair well out of reach of my foot. I remember asking, “okay whose funny?” They all looked at me quizzically, even Mike stirred from his slumber. I described what had just happened and immediately Mike whipped out his digital thermometer, the way you do, and checked the area near my foot. The temperature had dropped some 5 degrees since last measured - interesting that, but what does it prove?

Our second visit involved an incident with Mike. We all decided to go walkabout just to escape Mike’s incessant snoring; yes he was asleep again. Foolish on hindsight really, leaving him alone in the Bishops Bedroom, a golden rule broken tut-tut. We had just gone down stairs when it became apparent that Mike was trying to contact us via the Walkies. We attempted to return his hale but were only met by noisy static. Hurrying back to the Bishops Room, we discovered him in some distress. After we had calmed him down, we managed to establish what the problem was. He said he had awoken suddenly feeling intensely cold and had realized he was alone. He tried to raise us on the Walkies but although his fingers worked the keys, his voice was trapped in his throat. After some discussion and reassurance, we put the whole thing down to a vivid dream and the temperature drop down to waking from a deep sleep. He reluctantly accepted this explanation but I don’t think he was totally convinced and to be honest, neither were we. Suffice-to-say he was not left alone again nor did he fall asleep.

As I mentioned earlier, many people have testified to a ‘presence’ in the Bishop's Bedroom but until the final visit, none of us had really experienced said 'presence'.

The last visit took place on a hot afternoon in August. My colleague and I decided to call in on John one last time, to finish off some filming for a program we were putting together for our achieves. It would give me the opportunity to shoot some video footage in daylight, without the clutter of equipment and team members bless 'em.

Armed with just my video camera and a light, I left my colleague in the garden with John. I started by filming the notoriously haunted stairway. From there I moved upstairs and filmed in the Beaufont Bedroom. Finally, I crossed the landing to the Bishop's Room; the door was shut. I must just mention, that at no time had I been thinking about The Ram’s history or its ghosts. I was concentrating on lighting and getting the best shot.

Lifting the camera up to my eye and opening the door at the same time (one needs effect you know) I went to step into the room but was suddenly riveted to the spot, by what I have no idea, only that a feeling of utter dread took hold of me. I remember slowly lowering the camera and staring into a completely empty room, the feeling however, was that someone or something was in there. To say I was terrified would be to understate. To try to describe in any detail how I felt at the precise moment is difficult, other than a feeling that I was intruding in someway, an overwhelming sense that something wanted me out.

I remember trying to call out to my colleague but the words would not come. My legs felt like lead weights were attached to them, my heart thundered in my chest. After what seemed like an eternity but must have only been a few seconds. I managed to compose myself enough to take flight. I hit the top of the stairs running and descended them two at a time, until eventually bursting into the August sunshine.

I would later be told how visible shaken I had looked. All John would say when I told him of my experience was “oh that happens to many people in that room, some can‘t even cross the threshold”. His casual response to my story didn’t really help temper my shattered nerves.

I still ask myself just what was it that had so spooked me. Could there really have been some unseen entity lurking in that room, something that I had inadvertently disturbed. Or was I simply the victim of The Ram’s colourful history, a history that came flooding back just at the moment that I open the door, resulting in blind panic. If there was something in that room on that sunny afternoon in August, then maybe I now know what it is like to confront the malevolent entity that has become infamous with The Ram Inn.

Conclusion

So, is The Ram haunted? Well in my opinion and having heard many stories, read many of the letters left by visitors attesting to some bizarre and often frightening experiences, having listened to the findings of two respectable spiritualists that accompanied me on one particular vigil, having spoken with other paranormal researchers who have investigated The Ram, I would have to say quite possibly. There have been too many strange and inexplicable stories recalled by a host of reliable witnesses to just discount all of them as figments of the imagination, in fact, I think it quite naive of anyone to suggest it so.

Why not spend a night at The Ram and make up your own mind. All John asks for is a small donation towards the upkeep of the building.

Good Luck

To visit the Ram, contact:

John Humphries
The Ancient Ram Inn
Potters Pond
Wotton -Under-Edge
GL12 FHF

Good Luck!

Lacock Hauntings

2009-11-04T13:08:00.016Z

Lacock Abbey

Lady of the Lake

The West Steps

The picturesque 15th century village of Lacock has many ghostly tales but for this post, I will focus on just two locations; Lacock Abbey and The Sign of the Angel Inn.

Lacock abbey was founded in 1232 by Ela - Countess of Salisbury (d. 1261) who was also the first abbess. She came from a rich and powerful family. She inherited her father’s title when she was just six years old and became a ward of King Richard the Lionheart. She was later to marry William Longspree, the King’s illegitimate brother. Lacock Abbey was built in his memory.

Canonesses (nuns) occupied Lacock Abbey from 1232 - 1539. There would have been at least 15 women at any one time living at the Abbey. They would have lead a frugal life, each day spent in almost total silence, rising at 2:00am to take part in one of seven religious services. They would have had no contact with friends and family, devoting their entire lives in the service and worship of God.

Following the break up and subsequent sale of the monasteries in the 16th century by King Henry VIII. The Lacock estate was put up for sale and purchased by Sir William Sharington (1495-1553) treasurer to the mint. He kept the magnificent 13th century cloisters (occasionally used for the Harry Potter movies) and the 15th century chapter house but decided to add an impressive 16th century mansion. It is this building which is reputedly haunted by a hideous deformed dwarf, who appears dressed entirely in black. It is said that many years ago two children were staying at the house when they saw an ‘ugly little man’ walk through their room. It is also said, that several years after this encounter the skeletal remains of a deformed dwarf were found buried in the wall of that particular room. The identity of this decidedly unpleasant little fellow remains a mystery but his spontaneous appearance over the years has caused those who have encountered him to flee in terror.

There is a little ornate lake in the grounds, which is said to be haunted by the ghost of a beautiful young woman dressed in a flowing white gown, which appears to float behind her, caught one would assume, by the gentlest of breezes. She is most often seen strolling beside the lake, her features are described as ‘mournful’ or ‘melancholy‘. It is thought this beauty maybe the ghost of Rosamund Clifford, who was allegedly mistress to King Henry II during a time when he had lost favour with his wife - Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Rosamund Clifford’s death in 1176, was both untimely and somewhat mysterious and it was rumoured that she met her death on the command of a jealous Eleanor - though these accusations were never proved. Just why Rosamund Clifford should haunt the lake is unknown, other than the possibility that it may have been a favourite ’haunt’ of hers, no pun intended.

Lacock is probably best known for one of its former resident families - The Talbots’, who succeeded the Sharingtons’ ownership of Lacock in the mid 18th century. Years later, one family member in particular - William Fox Talbot (1800-1877) who was born and died at the abbey, was to become best known for his pioneering work in the field of photographic negative development. A museum dedicated to his work occupies part of the abbey. One of his first photographs which still survive, was taken at the Abbey in 1835. It shows a grainy picture of one of the abbey's oriel windows taken near the west steps using one of his tiny rudimentary box cameras.

Many years later, a photographer taking photographs at the west steps was to have a very strange encounter. Whilst framing one particular shot, he noticed the presence of a ‘most beautiful young woman’ who was standing close to the steps and looking up at the abbey. He made sure the figure was in the centre of his viewfinder and took just one photograph of her, as he was eager to make the young lady’s acquaintance. He started to walk towards her but when he was only a few yards away she abruptly disappeared. Somewhat stunned, he immediately made enquires in the abbey as to who he thought he had seen. He was surprised to find that he was not alone in witnessing the young lady, for in turned out that many similar sightings have been reported at the foot of the west steps. Later, when the photographer was developing the film, he discovered to his surprise that although the picture of the west steps were perfectly framed, the mysterious young lady was not evident on the negative. It is thought that this ghost may also be that of Rosamund Clifford.

The Sign of the Angel Inn

The Sign of the Angel Inn

Note the inclusion of the ghost mentioned on the pub noticeboard as you go in

The Sign of the Angel Inn

This 15th century inn located in Lacock village, was formerly a wool merchants house and is a fine example of a Traditional English pub. Oak beams, log fires, polished wood floors and antique furniture, all compliment and add to its cosy atmosphere.

The inn is said to be haunted by the ghost of an elderly woman, who has been frequently seen over the past 15 years or so. She is believed to be one of the previous owners who just refuses to leave. A friendly soul by all accounts, who has been spotted several times by staff and diners patiently sitting at one of the tables in the lounge bar. She has also been seen in one or two of the guest bedrooms. A friendly spirit to some maybe, but not to a certain carpet fitter who, in 1980 whilst laying stair carpet, experienced the ghost firsthand as she appeared right in front of him. Suffice-to-say, he left the premises in somewhat of a rush, vowing never to return.

I was amused when reading the noticeboard at the entrance to the Inn, that there is reference to its 'resident ghost'. Great stuff!

Devizes Ghost Walks

2009-11-02T09:39:00.001Z

Local historian, author and guide - John Girvan

John Girvan recalling one of many ghostly tales

Living as I do in close proximity to the town of Devizes, I have to admit, that I had not attended one of John Girvan’s legendary Ghost Walks until recently, the night before Halloween to be exact.

John Girvan is a respected local historian and author, with a wealth of knowledge, not just on Devizes and its plethora of ghosts, but on the towns rich and often diverse heritage.

The tour starts a 7:00pm, and lasts for about an hour and a half. John will guide you through the streets and back alleyways of this ancient market town. He will enthral you, I am sure, with his many ghost stories of tragic romance, gruesome murder and the bloody Civil War. You will visit 13 locations, some dating back as far as the 15th century. There is also group participation if you dare to dowse at the site of the gallows. I will say no more, for fear of spoiling your evening.

For further information and how to book your walk, click on the link in the sidebar.

Halloween

2009-10-19T16:54:00.007+01:00

Image credit Joan De La Haye

Halloween, has its roots in The Festival of Samhain

The day we now celebrate as Halloween, has its roots in ancient Celtic beliefs. The Celtic Druids ‘end of summer’ festival - Samhain, began or begins (now a pagan festival) at sundown on the 31st October (their new years eve) and lasted for three days. It was a celebration in honour of the dead and to give thanks to the sun god - Lugh, who’s passing indicated the end of summer and beginning of winter.

It was a brief moment in time, when the Celts believed that the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest and that the dead were able to breach the veil and pass into the realm of the living. Once there, they would seek out their homes and loved ones. It was also a dangerous period; dangerous because the Celts believed evil spirits could also cross the liminal. The Celts believed this transition by the dead was essential to ensure a rich and prosperous harvest for the following year. It was also a time when Samhain - the god of the dead, who had collected up all the souls of those who had died the previous year, would set them free to join in 'Druid heaven'.

The Halloween we celebrate today (or not as the case may be, preferring as I do, to give the impression of being out so avoiding having to open the door to the neighbourhood’s little horrors) has been integrated, somewhat reticently it has to be said, into the Christian celebrations (again a three day affair) of All Saints Day, followed by All Souls Day or "The Day of the Dead" and finally, All Hallows Eve, which was eventually shortened to Halloween. Halloween has survived many attempts to eradicate it from the calendar by the Christian church, (even now many Christians choose not to celebrate it) simply because it was deemed to have pagan and or Satanic roots.

Any similarity between Samhain and today’s Halloween celebrations is purely coincidental. The holiday was popularized by the Americans centuries ago, as are the traditions of bobbing for apples, Jack-o-Lanterns (lit pumpkins) trick-or-treat and of course dressing up as ghosts and ghouls etc. These traditions are loosely based on Celtic customs, for example: trick-or-treat was probably derived from the practice of leaving a ‘treat’ (milk or cheese) outside the doors of friends homes to appease evil spirits. The dressing up as ghosts and ghouls is to symbolize the good and bad spirits as they walk with the living.

The most favoured custom on Halloween, has to be the Pumpkin or Jack-o-Lantern.

History of the Jack-o-Lantern.

People have been making jack-o-lanterns at Halloween for centuries. The practice originated from an Irish myth about a man nicknamed "Stingy Jack." According to the story, Stingy Jack invited the Devil to have a drink with him. True to his name, Stingy Jack didn't want to pay for his drink, so he convinced the Devil to turn himself into a coin that Jack could use to buy their drinks. Once the Devil did so, Jack decided to keep the money and put it into his pocket next to a silver cross, which prevented the Devil from changing back into his original form. Jack eventually freed the Devil, under the condition that he would not bother Jack for one year and that, should Jack die, he would not claim his soul. The next year, Jack again tricked the Devil into climbing into a tree to pick a piece of fruit. While he was up in the tree, Jack carved a sign of the cross into the tree's bark so that the Devil could not come down until the Devil promised Jack not to bother him for ten more years.

Soon after, Jack died. As the legend goes, God would not allow such an unsavoury figure into heaven. The Devil, upset by the trick Jack had played on him and keeping his word not to claim his soul, would not allow Jack into hell. He sent Jack off into the dark night with only a burning coal to light his way. Jack put the coal into a carved out pumpkin and has been roaming the Earth with it ever since. The Irish began to refer to this ghostly figure as "Jack of the Lantern," and then, simply "Jack O'Lantern."

Source ~ The History Channel ~

Halloween, in my opinion, is a harmless celebration where kids can go out trick-or-treating and generally scare the bloody neighbourhood to death - bless em! For us adults, it’s a good excuse to dress up like your worst nightmares and go out and party. But remember the “witching hour” dear friends, between 12 midnight and 1am on the 31st October when the veil is at its thinnest. Don’t be caught out alone in the countryside, for you may inadvertently attract company you hadn’t bargained for - have a good one!

Ghosts by Llewellyn

2009-09-29T12:31:00.008+01:00

Unaccustomed as I am to reviewing music albums, I thought I would make an exception with regard to this offering by Llewellyn, which I think apt considering the theme of this blog and worth a mention.

What the composer has set out to do, is select eight of Britain’s most famous hauntings and set them to music. The result is an atmospheric and haunting collection of New Age instrumental pieces, which I think capture the lonely and often desolate landscapes attributed to them.

My favourite track, although I like them all, is "The Piper," who's ghost is said to haunt Inveraray Castle. The piece starts with the sound of the wind blowing across Loch Fyne and carrying with it the haunting sound of The Piper, who was an unfortunate victim of Montrose and his army and was hung nearby. The Piper is still seen walking the castle and the sound of his ghostly pipes still echo across the loch.

Other tracks include: 'Lady Hoby' of Bisham Abbey; who beat her son to death for simply being a little slow. Soon after his death, she too succumbed to the Reapers scythe. It is her ghost that is believed to haunt the Tudor abbey to this day.

There is the infamous 'Borley Rectory', which was intensely investigated by the late paranormal researcher Harry Price; who in 1929, gave Borley the title of most haunted house in England.

Llewellyn is an accomplished writer and composer of New Age music. I hope you enjoy Ghosts as much as I have and decide to add it to your music library.

Hear the entire first track - The Piper

Silbury Hill - Public Notices Do Not Work

2009-09-27T15:47:00.011+01:00

These notices surround Silbury hill and could only be missed by the visually impaired or blatantly arrogant.

Previously, I made you aware of the blatant disregard for Silbury Hill's public notices, which clearly state, 'Please do not climb the monument'. So it is with regret, that once again whilst walking passed the hill, I notice several individuals dressed with more than a passing similarity to the 1970's TV character - "Catweasel." Oblivious of the signs put there at great expense by English Heritage, they busied themselves by banging what appeared to be drums, whilst leaping about on top of the hill like a bunch of crazed marionettes on speed. I thought to myself, are these the so-called 'neo-pagans' that the locals talk about, who apparently and unashamedly disregarded Silbury’s delicate conservation in pursuit of their own 'archaic rituals'. If it wasn’t these neo-pagans chaps, then it may possibley have been a coach-load of tramps on a day trip in the country to attend a percussion recital; or maybe it was a bunch of time-locked hippies, still looking for the portal to send them back to the 1960's - bless 'em. Whoever they were, they had no business being up there in the first place.

Does English Heritage really have to take measures to safe guard Silbury’s delicate archaeology from endless assaults from the brain dead minority who blithely contribute to its erosion and damage just so they can get a better view, or satisfy some deluded ritual? Does it have no other option but to erect perimeter fences and employ security guards to police it? Sadly I think the answer to both these questions is rapidly becoming a resounding yes! What will it take to get through to these people? Silbury has to be protected for future generations, not just its archaeology but also its delicate flora and fauna which has become so important to scientific research.

I remember the exclusion zone imposed by English Heritage to protect Stonehenge. Oh there were those who bemoaned its erection and still do oddly. In fact there are those who spend every waking moment of their miserable lives bemoaning anything that English Heritage turns its hands to. Whether it’s Stonehenge, or the excellent work it undertook to ensure Silbury Hill didn’t implode. But thank goodness the decision was taken at Stonehenge. Can you imagine in all honesty, what it would have looked like today if the vandalism had gone unchecked?

I'm sure nobody wants Silbury to go the same way as Stonehenge, but what is the answer? How do you educate those that couldn't give a damn and are only interested in accomplishing their own selfish pursuits.

The Wiltshire Moonraker Legend

2009-09-20T16:48:00.006+01:00

The Crammer pond Devizes

The original location for the famous 'Wiltshire Moonraker' legend has been fiercely debated over the years by several local villages. Its most likely location however, is still believed to be the Crammer pond in Devizes, which was formerly part of the parish of Bishops Cannings.

The story goes, that in 1791, a group of smugglers based in Wiltshire had hidden contraband brandy in the Crammer pond. Their presence at the Crammer one particular moonlit night, had drawn the attention of a team of excise men who had been tipped off that something untoward was going in near the Crammer. Taking cover nearby, the excise men observed the smugglers pawing at the surface of the pond with what appeared to be rakes. Unknown to the excise men, the smugglers were trying to rake in their barrels of brandy using the moonlight as a guide.

Seeing enough and with their suspicions aroused, the excise men broke cover and quickly confronted the smugglers enquiring as to their business. The smugglers, quick to think on their feet, played dumb and said they were trying to “rake out that gurt yaller cheese in yonder pond”. Briefly translated means “we are trying to get that great yellow cheese out of the pond“.

Hearing their explanation, the excise men believed these rogues must surely be simpletons from the village of Bishops Cannings (a village that had acquired a reputation for more then its fair share of fools over the years and had become the butt of many jokes) so were inclined to believed their ridiculous story. Satisfied they had just encountered several fools attempting to rake in a reflection of the moon on the pond thinking it were a giant cheese, they rode off. Little did they know, that the 'village idiots' had just had the last laugh.

Roundway Asylum and Drews Wood - Devizes

2009-09-01T10:37:00.006+01:00

Original buildings

Path leading to medieval cemetery

One of just a few surviving headstones

Entrance to cemetery and asylum grounds, where some dogs fear to tread.

Drews Pond

Many asylums were for the best part appalling places to have to spend your days, especially if you were unfortunate enough to have lived during the Victorian period; the Victorian's grasp of mental illness was scant to say the least.

One of the most infamous asylums was Bethlem Royal in London, which gained a dreadful reputation for its ill-treatment of its patients. Interestingly the word ‘bedlam’, is thought to be a derivative of Bethlem, such was the chaos and horrors that took place within its walls.

It was regarded a fashionable pursuit by some unscrupulous Londoners to visit the crowded cells of Bethlem, in order to gratify some obscene desire to publicly humiliate and torment its patients. Some were even offered sticks to prod and poke the poor souls.

Often patients would be strapped into chairs so they could not move, these chairs became known as "tranquillizer chairs." A chilling piece of medical apparatus named the “Improved Patent Magneto-Electric Machine for Nervous Diseases,” was then attached to the patient in an effort to shock the illness from the poor individual. Suffice-to-say, the results of this procedure offered little in the way of any measured success.

Other unfortunates were made to walk across a room where a hidden trap door would be triggered by a member of staff, whereby the hapless individual would be plunged into a vat of ice water. As you can imagine, the shock to the heart could prove fatal in some instances.

You could find yourself wrongly incarcerated in one of these establishments for some of the most absurd reasons. For example, a woman falling pregnant with an illegitimate child, the elderly with dementia, sufferers of epilepsy, even cases of stammering and nervous ticks. These conditions were often thought an embarrassment by many affluent Victorians and rather than having to endure the black-looks from their peers, the unfortunate family member would be packed off to be institutionalized in the local loopy farm for an indefinite term.

Following incarceration, many patients were then forced to live amongst schizophrenics, manic depressives and a host of other serious and often violent mentally ill patients. If they weren’t barking mad before they went in, they certainly were when they came out, if they ever did come out.

Roundway Hospital

Wiltshire County Lunatic Asylum, later to be called Roundway Hospital in Devizes was opened in 1851. Constructed from Bath Stone in the Italian style by Thomas Henry Wyatt. The asylum continued as a mental hospital until 1989 when the decision was taken to close it and turn it into a Hospital. The hospital was closed in 1995 and has now been converted into individual apartments for the housing sector. It still retains many of the original buildings, including two prominent water towers. As an patient at WCLA, you would not have been subjected to the horrors of the likes of Bethlem. Generally it was reported by inspectors and visitor alike, that patients were receiving good care and attention.

Bordering the estate is Drews Wood, which includes a lake and medieval cemetery, which was the final resting place for many of the villagers of Wicke in the 12th and 13th centuries. When the lands, all 7.5 acres, were purchased by WCLA, the cemetery was again utilized for the burial of patients and one or two staff. Only a few of the headstones survive but all of the bodies remain undisturbed. Many of the graves were identified by simple markers, this was probably due to the fact that the ground at the time was unconsecrated.

In 1993, two years before the Roundway Hospital closed, The Bishop of Salisbury gave permission for some 800 tress to be planted on this ancient woodland. It was felt this gesture would be a lasting testament to those who are buried there.

Hauntings

There are tales regarding the cemetery path. One story concerns two women walking a dog through the cemetery one afternoon. One of the women became convinced they where being followed, such was the overwhelming sense of a ‘presence’ in close proximity. Stopping several times and scanning the area revealed nothing - they were alone. This feeling did not abate until they were clear of the area. The feeling of being watched or followed is not uncommon in Drews Wood cemetery.

Another story involves a friend of mine, who’s dog refuses point blank to pass through the arched gateway into the cemetery. The stone arch and wall, were primarily used to access the cemetery and asylum/hospital grounds from Drews Lane which runs parallel to the grounds.

Although not haunted, as far as I am aware anyway; Drews lake, which is part of the woodland landscape, was to be the scene of a tragic accident which occurred in 1751. The lake was to claim the lives of five individuals returning from a wedding party. As their carriage passed the lakes edge, it overturned drowning all aboard, its occupants pinned beneath the carriage in the icy deaths. A 15 foot tall memorial stone was erected at St. John’s church in Devizes, bearing the names of those who perished on that fateful day.

Drews Wood and cemetery is a beautiful and enchanting nature reserve, lovingly attended and cared for by local volunteers. It has an abundance of wild flowers, a running stream fed by five springs and a variety of trees including: oak, ash, hazel, blackthorn, and cherry.

Devil's Den - Clatford Bottom

2009-09-01T09:17:00.004+01:00

The Devil’s Den dolmen at Clatford Bottom near Marlborough, is a wonderful example of a Neolithic burial chamber, which predates the Avebury stone circle. The name Devil, is believed to be a corruption of the word ‘dillion’, meaning boundary mound.

The structure was rescued from imminent collapse in 1921, when restoration work was undertaken to shore it up by incorporating a concrete support to one side.

The late Guy Underwood dowsed the site in 1958 following up the work of one Reginald Smith, an authority on the Neolithic age. After his survey was completed, Underwood concluded that the megalith was built over a geospiral. Now for those of you who are in the know regarding the mysteries surrounding earth energies and ley lines, then you will know what a geospiral is. For those who don’t, me included, then put simply, it is a ‘blind spring’ which is said to generate a powerful surface spiral…any-the-wiser now? Me neither!

Underwood was of the impression that Devil’s Den had one of the most powerful geospirals in the country.

Folklore

Like most ancient tombs, folklore abounds. Tales of a ghostly guardian dog with burning piercing eyes, is said to lie in wait beneath the mound, protecting its long dead masters. The Sound of an eerie baying hound has also been heard echoing across the valley in the dead of night. Spectral dogs are not uncommon at burial mounds, their roots can be traced back to Celtic mythology.

Another tale involves the Devil, who is said to yoke up 4 white oxen to try and dislodge the capstone, why he should want to do this is not clear, after all it is his gaff.

On top of the capstone is a dimple in the stone, the tale goes that if you should fill this dimple with water, the water will vanish overnight, apparently consumed by the fiend that haunts the dolmen.

How to get there (SU151697)

From Beckhampton roundabout, take the A4 to Marlborough. Just before you enter the town, there is a left turn marked Manton House and The Hollow, it‘s easily missed, so keep a sharp eye out for it. Follow the lane till you arrive at the car park, some two miles or so. From the car park, bear right onto a track, you will see the megalith in the valley to your left after about 10 minutes walking.

Intruder

2009-08-18T17:57:00.003+01:00

He passed before me this morning as I stood shaving at my bathroom mirror. I know he did because my reflection was momentarily obscured. This unseen intruder, this uninvited guest, this menace that taunts me at every opportunity. This mischievous, devious and pernicious wraith that has invaded my home, my sanctuary, my very being.

Now as each day passes he becomes more daring, sometimes I sense he is very close, as if he is standing behind me, looking over my shoulder. Sometimes I can smell him, an unmistakable odour, something akin to that of wet leaves. If only I could reach out and grab him, put my hands about his throat and squeeze the life from him, but how, how do you engage with something you can not see?

I dare not tell anyone for fear they think me insane, maybe I am insane.

I must pull myself together, I must find a way to expel this fiend from my home.

I pray to god for help, but mostly, I pray for my sanity.

Willow.

The Old Bell - Malmesbury

2009-08-18T13:50:00.009+01:00

The Old Bell Hotel

The mysterious Grey Lady. Could this be the ghost that many people claim to have seen? (apologies for the quality of the picture)

The Old Bell Hotel, which is believed to be the oldest hotel in England, stands adjacent to the partly ruined abbey at Malmesbury. Many of the mysterious goings on in the hotel seem to occur in the east wing, which coincidentally, was built on part of the former abbey churchyard. It is believed there are several sarcophagi concealed beneath the bar, although no excavation work has ever been carried out to confirm this story.

There has been an inn of some description occupying this site as far back as 1220. It is not surprising, taking all things into account, that the Old Bell has built up quite a haunted reputation.

Hanging on one of the period stone walls in the restaurant, is a portrait of a woman dressed in grey. Is it possible that the figure in the painting could be that of the ‘Lady in Grey’ who is said to haunt the James Ody Room. Many residents and staff have claimed to have seen her. She is often described as looking very forlorn and melancholy and is said to glide silently through the room. When residents have mentioned their encounter, you can imagine their surprise when staff show them the portrait hanging in the restaurant and ask the question “is this who you saw?“. The Grey Lady’s identity is a mystery but some say she was the victim of an unhappy and forced marriage which took place at the abbey. Why this should cause her to haunt the hotel is anybody’s guess and why her portrait (if it is the same woman) should hang in the hotel is another mystery.

There is a spooky tale regarding a ritual, whereby if the words ‘Grey Lady’ are repeated out loud three times within the James Ody Room, she will appear. I must confess to not having tried that one yet.

Residents of The Danvers Room have reported seeing objects mysteriously levitate of their own accord, only to be hurled against a wall. Other residents have claimed that their bedclothes have been pulled off them in the dead of night.

One of the most baffling accounts took place outside and inside The Foe Room. Residents returning to their room, were somewhat surprised when they were unable to gain access. Although the door could be unlocked, it could only be opened a fraction. Staff were called but they too failed to budge the door. With no other course of action left, a ladder was fetched and propped up outside and beneath the bedroom window. A member of staff climbed the ladder up to the window, which was securely fastened, the only way in was to smash the glass. Once inside, the staff member was stunned to see that a heavy wooden wardrobe had been manoeuvred against the door, nobody else was in the room.

The night staff have also reported odd sounds and cold spots near the salon bar during their nightly rounds.

The hotel is a grand establishment, retaining many of its original features. The hotel staff are more than happy to accommodate ghost hunters and paranormal researchers, should you decide to investigate. Good Luck!

Avebury Stone Circle

2009-08-03T18:07:00.049+01:00

The Neolithic sarsen megaliths at Avebury are believed to have been constructed around 2600BC. The stones would most likely have been quarried from the Marlborough downs then transported on wooden rollers. No mean feat when you consider some of the stones exceed 40 tonnes. The Avebury complex comprises of three circles surrounded by a ditch which when completed would have had sheer sides of chalk rubble to a depth of 10 meters or so. Avebury is the largest stone circle in Europe and a World Heritage site attracting thousands of visitors annually intrigued by the mystery that surrounds is construction.

Just what motivated our ancestors to build such an elaborate structure and their ultimate purpose in doing so remains a tantalising mystery. It has been suggested (one of many theories) that it may have been used as a place of worship and sacrifice. Some favour an astral observatory, difficult to prove I shouldn't wonder, in view of the fact that many of the stones are missing or misplaced, making any alignment with the stars iffy at best. It may have been used as defensive fortification which would add credence to the construction of the ditch. Others believe the stones to have had an alignment with Silbury Hill (see sidebar) and used to gauge the seasons. Today it is revered by pagans as a place of religious worship. Whatever the reasons for its construction, its true purpose continues to eludes archaeologists and scholars to this day.

It is unfortunate that not all of Avebury’s 154 sarsen stones have survived. Of the three rings only 36 stones are still standing. Many were destroyed or buried (some still are) in massive pits during the 14th century by devout local Christians because a) they believed them to be the harbingers of ill luck and b) to eradicate pagan worship from the monument.

It was during the 16th and 17th centuries that the stones came under attack once more, not from zealous Christians this time but from local construction workers who decided it would be a jolly good idea to utilizes the stones to build several of the cottages in the village, the grand 16th century Tudor Manor and to modernize the Anglo-Saxon church of St. James. Some of these magnificent stones even went to cobble the streets of Devizes seven miles to the south - ouch!

It was the discovery of Avebury’s megaliths by the antiquarian - John Aubrey in 1649 whilst out on a foxhunting jolly, that would ultimately alert the world to the significant importance of these ancient stones. Aubrey’s drawings of the monument were to prove vital for future research, as they showed mid 17th century Avebury and its subsequent destruction, a destruction that some 80 years later would be catalogued and mapped by William Stukeley who witnessed the mindless devastation to the monument during his time at Avebury. Like Aubrey, Stukeley’s drawings, maps and extensive research proved extremely valuable as they clearly showed many of the stones that no longer exist or were buried.

It wasn’t until the intervention and purchase of the site by Dundee Marmalade tycoon and archaeologist - Alexander Keiller in the 1930’s, that the destruction ceased. Keiller was responsible for the conservation and re-erection of many of the stones. His work was interrupted during the outbreak of the WWII and remains unfinished to this day.

Keiller acquisition of Avebury Manor in 1937 from Lt. Leopold Jenner, allowed him to modernized the Manor’s stable block to house a museum for his work and findings. Although small, it is very informative and well worth a visit. He died in 1955 at his home in Kingston Hill Surrey.

Folklore

Folklore has evolved over hundreds of years regarding the alleged power of Avebury’s standing stones. These enigmatic giants appear to cast their spell on many who see them. Some believe the stones have healing properties and by a 'hugging' one will release its magical properties and cure most ills. Others have claimed whilst hugging a stone, to have felt vibrations emanating from within its very core. 'Stone hugging' is a common sight at Avebury. Often when I have been passing through, I can pretty much guarantee that someone will be flat against a stone, adopting a pose reminiscent of the crucifixion and gazing heavenward in eager anticipation of 'the vibe‘. Now I’m no cynic but I think 'the vibe' can most likely be attributed to the rumble and subsequent vibration of heavy traffic passing close by on the A4361. As mentioned earlier, the locals used to believe the stones were harbingers of ill luck, so hugging one is probably not such a good idea on hindsight.

With all the magic, mystery and ancient rituals which have grown up around the stones, you would have thought the circles would be a supernatural hotspot. If truth be known, the opposite is very much the case, especially when compared to the generous helpings of ghostly history from the likes of The Red Lion pub, which stands within the circle, the stately Tudor Manor and 12th century church of St. James and not forgetting reports of ghostly hitchhikers on the A4361 and the famous coach and four said to thunder through the village in the dead of night. The few hauntings that have been reported from the stones are as follows:

Back in the Sixties, a woman driving through the village late at night, reported seeing ghostly figures dressed in period costumes dancing amongst the stones. I would question, that what she actually saw, was probably nothing more than one of the many pagan rituals and parties which take place regularly at Avebury.

There are claims of dwarf like creatures seen darting amongst the stones in the dead of night and of a spectrum of tiny twinkling lights believed by some to be fairy folk. These lights have been seen countless times dancing above the stones, especially the mysterious Diamond Stone, which is located at the north-west quadrant, a stone incidentally, said to uproot itself and cross the A4361 at the stroke of midnight, no mean feat at around 40 tonnes.

The henge is thought to have several ley lines (hypothetical veins of invisible energy beneath the earth, said to connect ancient megalithic sites, monuments and even buildings, particularly churches) which dowsers especially believe crisscross beneath the henge and are most likely responsible for generating subterranean ‘earth energy’ which may account (according to dowsers) for the Avebury’s strange goings on.

Avebury is a fascinating place and well worth a visit, if only to marvel at its construction and debate its mystery. That said, the claims surrounding the stones abilities will, I'm sure, stretch even the most vivid of imaginations.

The Flying Monk of Malmesbury Abbey

2009-07-20T12:13:00.003+01:00

In approximately 1010, a young monk by the name of Elmer, who resided at Malmesbury abbey, had a burning ambition to fly like a bird. After much work perfecting and assembling a set of wings which he attached to his arms and feet, he proceeded to climb to the top of one of the abbeys towers and throw himself off, frantically flapping his makeshift wings as he did so. Elmer managed, so it is documented, to travel a distance of some 200meters before gravity took over and the Flying Monk of Malmesbury came down with a thump, breaking both his legs in the process. This would have put most people off, Elmer however, was undeterred, and during his lengthy recuperation, it was discovered that he was making plans for a second flight, which he excitedly announced would include much improved aerodynamics to his wings. News of his plans reached the bishop, whereupon Elmer was forbidden from taking part in anymore flights of fancy from the abbey towers, or anywhere else for that matter.

For many years (he lived till he was 88) Elmer would hobble about Malmesbury town dreaming of flying once more, alas it was not to be. He did however gain much notoriety as a distinguished scholar for his research into manned flight. His winged imaged can be seen inside the abbey render in stain glass.

Could it be the ghostly figure of a hooded monk, which has been seen searching amongst the headstones in the abbey grounds, be that of Elmer? The figure is said to move amongst the headstones, then suddenly raise its arms upward in a eureka type fashion as if its found something. Maybe Elmer is looking skyward at a passing aircraft and exclaiming silently, “we did do it in the end".

What happens to us after we die?

2009-07-14T12:14:00.014+01:00

What happens to us when we die? It has to be the greatest unanswered question in life. Do we go to a ‘better place’ free of pain and suffering to be reunited with our love ones, or are we banished to somewhere rather unpleasant to spend eternity in purgatory paying our dues for a life of wrongdoings. Whatever the outcome when we finally shuffle off this mortal coil, I for one will be pretty pissed off if there is nothing. I mean, what would have been the point to it all. It would be like winning an important race, one you have trained for all your life, just to receive no trophy, no acknowledgement and no recognition. There are some who would argue that it’s the taking part, not the winning that counts. I have never understood that expression, in my opinion, it is the attitude of a defeatists to expect defeat before undertaking a task.

I do not consider myself a particularly religious person, I do not attend church and I do not pray, well not very often. So I guess, if some religions are to be believed, the likelihood of me making the ‘pearly gates’ is pretty slim.

The bible tells us that after death our soul returns to God, providing of course, that you have followed a righteous path during your lifetime. Those who have not, can look forward to a one way ticket to Hades.

The bible gives very few insights into what heaven is like, I suppose God is playing it close to his chest just in case he might blow our minds should he reveal the truth. When Lazarus rose from the dead he was reluctant to offer any information regarding the afterlife. Maybe he to was sworn to secrecy by 'the man‘.

The Spiritualist movement believe that when a loved one dies they are close to us, forever watching over us and that death is not the end but another plain of existence. Are we then to assume that even in death, we are aware of who we were and of the life we have just departed. Furthermore, does this consciousness mean we are going to have to spend eternity looking over the shoulders of those we have left behind, surely that would be an obscenely insensitive sentence to inflict on any soul. Can you imagine the torment having to watch our children grow but have no input in their lives anymore. To watch our wives or partners eventually meet someone new and share the same intimacies that we once shared. See the friends we once laughed with now laughing once again in our absence. Is this really what we are to expect after death? If so I would sooner slip into an endless oblivious sleep cradled in the arms of morphia than be subjected to such torment.

When my parents died, I was continually hoping I would sense them nearby, I almost expected it rather naively. I used to lie awake at night and talk to them in the hope that I may get a ‘sign’ that they were close. It’s nuts when I think back and recall many nights in tears willing them to move an object or make a sound and being terribly disappointed when it never happened. Strangely, I have never dreamt of either of them and they have been dead several years now. That used to pain me deeply, it is almost as if my subconscious mind had shut them out. To assume that they are still close to me however much I wish it were true, is difficult to believe. I suppose if I were to believe that ghosts are captive spirits of this worldly plain as some do, then I am happy that I don't see my parents.

There are people who claim to have spoken with the spirits of their deceased relatives. Just who or what these people believe they are communing with is a question open for debate. If we are to believe they are making contact with a genuine spirit, then surely the question as to the existence of life after death has ultimately been solved. I think it more likely, that what is happening here is simply a state of the mind. Grief is a very powerful emotion, which can in turn trigger psychological trauma which can cause delusions, which in this case equates to talking to the dead.

Some people are so desperate to make contact with those that have passed on, that they seek solace in the company of mediums, hoping for confirmation that their loved ones are okay in the next life. Sadly the skills deployed by some unscrupulous mediums to tease the answers they are looking for from an attentive, sensitive and suggestible audience is often scandalous. The use of carefully crafted questions designed to manipulated the answers from an audience to the mediums advantage is unquestionably skillful but dishonest. I am not suggesting all mediums are charlatans but sadly there are too many making a lot of money off the backs of the emotionally charged and gullible. The thing I find excruciatingly frustrating about mediums, is their reluctance to enquire of the dear departed just what the afterlife is like - how convenient.

Whatever awaits us when we die, I hope it will be something that no religion has ever considered or imagined. The established belief in an old man in a white robe, sporting a matching beard you could loose a badger in, will hopefully be so far from the truth as to make it uproariously amusing. I hope that what ever awaits us when it is time to shake hands with 'The Reaper', will be something so profoundly wonderful, that we mere mortals, whilst still breathing, could not possibly understand or comprehend - here’s hoping.

Debenhams of Salisbury

2009-07-12T10:43:00.003+01:00

Plaque indicating point of execution

The Debenhams department store in Salisbury is said to be haunted by the ghost of Henry Stafford, 2nd Duke of Buckingham, who was beheaded in 1483 having been found guilty of treason against Richard the III. His execution took place in Market Square immediately opposite the Debenhams store, formerly the site of the Blue Bore Inn (later to become The Saracen’s Head Inn) where it is said Buckingham spent his last hours locked in an attic room, which is immediately above the aptly named Blue Bore Restaurant situated at the rear of the store.

Over the years his tormented spirit has been seen in the sportswear department and the ladies dressing rooms, where he is quite partial to popping in and ‘hissing’ at its occupants. He has also been seen walking from the attic to a small enclosed yard at the back of the store.

Some years ago a BT engineer was working alone in the attic when he felt a cold hand grasp his shoulder, he fled the attic vowing never to return, someone else had to go back to retrieve his tools.

The haunting has become so well known, that the Duke of Buckingham has now been renamed ‘The Duke of Debenhams‘ such is his frequent activity about the store.

Unidentified Flying Objects - Fact or Fiction?

2009-06-28T13:27:00.009+01:00

I took this picture on my way back from Portugal, having just entered French airspace. I noticed these swirling points of light in the clouds - wow! Should I get excited, no as it happens, they were merely the reflection from interior cabin lights.

The argument for and against the possibility that we have been visited by species from other planet, has sparked man's imagination since the biblical prophet Ezekiel claimed to have seen a giant flaming wheel light up the night sky. I am not suggesting Ezekiel did not see something but is it not possible that what he actually saw, was nothing more than a comet or shooting star.

Reports abound all over the world from reliable witnesses claiming to have seen something ’unusual’ in the sky. Many such claims, in fact the vast majority, have been easily explained away as cloud formations, aircraft, flocks of birds, reflections, etc etc.

The United States Air Force, following a huge ‘flying saucer flap’ in the early 50’s launched Project Bluebook in 1952. Project Bluebook’s sole purpose was to investigate reports of ’flying saucers’, a term which was later to be included and categorized under the file 'Unidentified Flying Objects'. Project Bluebook was to determine if there were any threat to national security by so called ‘flying saucers‘. The study was eventually terminated in 1969 having investigated some 12000reports. It concluded that there was 'no threat to national security' and that nearly all reported sightings of UFOs were 'explained, whereas many other reports were 'nothing more than the work of hoaxers'. Only a meagre 5% were deemed unaccountable and filed as ‘unknowns‘.

Closer to home, Wiltshire has seen its fare share of UFO incidents, none more so than the famous 'Warminster Thing’. The town of Warminster underwent a 'UFO flap’ in the mid sixties, which started with reports from the towns folk of hearing strange and unaccountable whining noises. A little later, reports started flooding in (over 1000 in 1964) of unexplained aerial phenomena. A local journalist, Arthur Shuttlewood, covered the story and put Warminster on the global map as a 'UFO hotspot‘. The town was to become besieged by UFO spotters from all over the world, including me, eager to get a glimpse of the ‘Thing’ - I never did. Many people put the sightings down to the nearby army base on Salisbury Plain, suggesting that all these reports were nothing more than military aircraft. Of course, the diehard believers dismissed this explanation and purposed the theory that the very reason Warminster was being ‘buzzed’, was because of its military base - mmmm!

Wiltshire’s ancient monuments and downs have been a popular hub for UFO sightings for many years. For example, unexplained lights have been reported hovering above cornfields on the night prior to the discovery of a crop circle. Stonehenge, Avebury and Silbury hill have all had their share of weird lights reported circling the monuments at great speed.

In October 2003 a special effects team were asked to manufacture a fake UFO to fly over the village of Avebury. The team set about constructing a rather elaborate radio controlled balloon, shaped like a flying saucer and measuring some 25ft in diameter, complete with flashing lights. The project was televised by Channel 4 and billed as “A Very British UFO Hoax”.

Taking cover in a nearby field, the team launched their flying saucer into the evening summer sky. One of the team was planted at the Red Lion pub, which sits inside the famous Neolithic stone circle, just to film the reaction from the public. As you can imagine, as this strange glowing object appeared over a nearby hill, everyone went nuts, many convinced that they were seeing a genuine flying saucer. That same evening the national and international news ran the story, which continued to gain momentum over the next few days, attracting UFO spotters by the coach load. That was until the hoaxers and Channel 4 came forward and owned up. When asked why they did it, they responded, "it just goes to show how easily people can jump to the wrong conclusions".

Whatever these objects are that millions of people all over the world claim to see, I for one do not believe they are extraterrestrial, that is not to say that I do not believe there is life on other planets, that would be very naive me. When I look up at the night sky and see all those tiny points of light, I often think to myself how desperately sad it would be if we were all alone in the vastness of space.

If we should ever make contact with beings from another world, I am of the opinion first contact will be the detection of an unmanned probe in orbit about our planet. I think the probes mission may very likely be similar to the kind of hardware we send out to 'explore' the universe, I am not suggesting technically similar, I'm sure it will be totally alien but then having said that, would it be that dissimilar?

After numerous covert phones calls pass between our governments asking the question "well, is it one of yours?" and a succession of replies answer "no!" then the unthinkable will have to be considered, nay accepted - "It would appear ladies and gentlemen, we are not alone."

I will leave you with this thought; there is an organization in the USA known as SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) but you are probably aware of its existence. SETI has been listening to the universe since the early 60’s without any positive results. I admit there has been the odd blip or two, but nothing tangible, nothing concrete. Let us imagine, just for a moment, the unthinkable happens, SETI gets a hit, or anybody else for that matter - a signal from deep space and that after much exhaustive analysis, the boffins are convinced 100%, that they have irrefutable proof the signals source is from an alien intelligence and not just another pulsar - should we reply?