A Touch of the Weird, The Weird Walk of Warwick

The county town of Warwickshire, conveniently called Warwick, is famous for its castle, its university and its proximity to Stratford-upon-Avon. But this market town, when all the shops are shut and the busy roads quieten has a darker, sinister side to its quaint history of learning and philanthropy.

And this is the side of Warwick that I wanted to explore.

Credit:SJP

In the light evening drizzle I trekked up the High Street to our meeting place at the Lord Leycester Hospital and finding shelter in the wooden porchway I set up the Chattergeist Touch in word mode to see if anything wanted to communicate.

Enter Warrane Worthington, our guide for the evening. Dressed in black trilby hat, cravat and frock coat our enigmatic leader was soon taking names and checking tickets to ensure all his guests were present and correct before introducing himself and his tour The Weird Walk of Warwick.

Directing us to the junction with Brook Street the Touch lit up with the words Savaging, Clang. Clang like metal on metal? The sound of sword on shield? The sound of movement within a suit of armour?

The Lord Leycester Hospital, a medieval timber framed building set up in 1571 as a charity to support ex-servicemen (and continues to do so today) was plagued with sightings of a decapitated knight dressed in armour from the 1300s wandering it’s corridors. The sightings continued until the 18th century, when during restoration work in the adjoining Chapel of St James workmen found within a bricked up void the headless body of a man, besuited in 14th century armour.

After the corpse was provided with the dignity of a Christian burial the sightings ceased. So had the spirit returned for one final acknowledgement through my little black puck?

Turning 180° our attention was directed to a plaque on the wall of 52 Brook Street that read Bear & Baculus House. The Bear and Baculus or in 1812 The Bear and Bacchus was the pub that 14 year old Hannah Miller was taken to by a local doctor, Mr Blenkinsop, but left in the care of the local undertaker.

The first day of any job is full of nervous excitement and it was likely that young Hannah felt the same way on 5th March. She had been employed by Thomas George, the local butcher, as his servant, to assist with his business. George had a lodger by the name of Reverend William Brookes. Known locally as the ‘Mad Pastor’ or ‘Mad Brookes’ it is unclear whether or not he was an ordained minister or had simply taken the title for himself.

Brookes was a common sight in Warwick, often inebriate and wearing just a shirt with his tackle out like a Georgian Winnie The Pooh. Clearly deserving of his nicknames.

Before the end of her first shift Hannah encountered the lodger on the stairs. Two shots from a gun echoed into the street, one bullet to her back, the other to her neck however medical intervention could not save her and the Reverend faced the charge of Murder at the Assizes. Found unfit to plead Brookes was declared insane and detained indefinitely.

But reports of a girl, dressed in white with bloodstains on her dress are reported by those travelling through West Gate at night. For me no such apparition appeared, but one word appeared in red on the black face of the Touch, Mum, perhaps the last cry of a murdered child seeking comfort.

The spell of sadness cast by Warrane’s retelling of the tragedy of young Hannah was broken with a health and safety announcement - Roads are dangerous and we would have to cross some on our tour, so cross carefully.

Credit:SJP

Crossing over the High Street, and past ground zero for the Great Fire of Warwick, where on the 5th September 1694 a stray spark from the blacksmith’s forge set light to the thatched roof of the house next door destroying 157 buildings (with no fatalities), we headed down Castle Lane.

Walking alongside Warrane at the head of the group I was treated to what he called ‘the front of the queue story’ which involved Anne Diamond, the beloved television personality, and her house hunting in the town.

Anne, finding the perfect home was dismayed to find that the elderly occupant, who was being pressured to downsize and move to a flat by her children, had changed her mind and had withdrawn the property from the market. 6 months later the estate agent contacted Anne to tell her that her dream home had been put back up for sale and invited her to have another look around. Anne and her mother attended a viewing, but the house felt off. The old lady now appeared unfriendly in the shell of what once was her home. Personal effects were gone with the only piece of furniture remaining was a wood wardrobe in the living room.

After Anne had left the property, the estate agent contacted her in the hope of a sale. Anne told them that she was no longer interested, the owner was not as friendly as she once was and the house no longer felt like a home for her and her children. Confused the estate agent told Anne that the occupant had died and that Anne had the only set of keys for the house.

Anne returned to the property, the ‘wardrobe’ that had remained had vanished leaving Anne to believe it was in fact a coffin. Anne did not buy this house as she could not get the thought of the elderly occupant remaining within the fabric of the building out of her head and continued her search.

Our search had led us to the Town Gate, one of the many entrances to Warwick Castle. Here the Touch responded Snatched, Captors, Shout in response to the great Warwick Castle heist of the 6th November 1605.

Credit:SJP

If your knowledge of British history does not extend to years, you will be familiar with the events of the 5th of November. If not I will give you a few moments to remember, remember.

Gunpowder, Treason and Plot.

The Catholic plot to remove a protestant monarch was discovered and the man with lantern, Guy Fawkes, was discovered and arrested. This act of terror was not the brainchild of Fawkes, he was merely the explosives expert, and his co-conspirators had soon fled by horse from London arriving in Warwick. Warwick Castle at the time was undergoing renovations and held weapons and horses. Weapons that could be used to fight and fast horses, or chargers, so that they could flee.

Failing to secure Catholic sympathies within the walled town, it was the latter option this desperate band opted for. Their heist triggering alarms, alerting the authorities to their location and leading to the eventual standoff at Holbeche House in Staffordshire.

Were memories of those involved trapped within these walls, repeating that fateful day over and over, finding a method of interaction with the living through the black puck? We will never know. But we do know the fate of the plotters, perfectly described by our guide. Hanged – Drawn – Quartered.

From national history to something more local our tour continued to the once-home of local benefactor Thomas Oken. The journey to the Tea Rooms that are adorned by a large plaque celebrating this local hero, had taken us along Castle Street, which is where my K2 died.

Credit:SJP

Oken is believed to have never left his house, with his spectral figure being sighted around the building. During one of these sightings, Oken is reported to have stumbled on a step at the bottom of the stairs, which was later discovered to have been modified to align to more recent health and safety requirements.

The Touch provided me with House, July as Warrane was telling us about the siege that befell this building after Oken’s death. As you can see from the plaque, Oken died on 29th July 1573 within this house. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I will leave it to you to decide.

The Coach Gate on Castle Hill was our next stop, the rumbling or the traffic (and incoherent shouts of the locals from their cars) preventing any sounds of bell covered horses emitting from beyond the veil as they carried the condemned Piers Gaveston on his final humiliating ride.

Credit:SJP

To Mill Street where in the shadow of the castle’s Ceasar’s tower we learned the story of Molly Bloxham, who having the monopoly of sales of milk and butter was accused of short-changing her customers due to a small ladle. Molly is said to haunt the tower – the believed site of her death – as both woman and black dog.

Warrane’s breath was visible as he recounted the tragic tale of this aspiring entrepreneur, the only visible breath within the group on this fairly warm evening. As I noticed the vapour, Coldest appeared in red on the black screen of the Touch, followed by what could have been Molly’s excuse Especially, Household, Measure.

Credit:SJP

We returned to the Coach Gate, thankful that no one had seen Molly in her canine form (as this is a harbinger of bad luck). The castle story moved on to Fulke Greville, the owner of Warwick Castle between 1604 and his death in 1628. Fulke, although dying in Holborn after being stabbed by his servant Ralph Haywood, is said to remain in his favourite place – his bedroom within Watergate Tower.

Our group, crossing several roads (being ever mindful that cars will run you over), followed Jury Street and Church Street before arriving at the foot of St Mary’s Church Tower. Rebuilt after the Great Fire (with assistance from Christopher Wren) the tower stands as the highest point of Warwick and stone throw away from our next stop, The Old Shire Hall or County Court on Northgate Street.

Credit:SJP

This hall held the Crown Court and Assizes of Warwickshire, detaining prisoners with all the care and considerations that befit murders, rapist and horse thieves. A cell door on the corner of Barrack Street a reminder of the conditions that criminals would suffer.

Credit:SJP

Here tales of ghost witnesses being called (and failing to answer their summons) were recounted as well as the story of Anne Haytree, who let the intrusive thoughts win and killed her mistress. Haytree found guilty was sentenced to appear at our penultimate stop further along Barrack Street – the site of execution.

The Touch burst into life again, Shortness, Hung illuminated the screen followed by Laughs and Cackled recalling the braying mobs, hungry for the physical destruction of those that had sinned against the community – and then the name Jon.

The correlation between Jon and the bricked up archway on Barrack Street was resolved with the second to last story from Warrane.

Credit:SJP

On 17th November 1800 the life of Mary Palmer was ended by her husband, John, his sister, Hannah and their mother Sarah. Sarah Palmer had attempted to kill her daughter-in-law several times by poisoning but being unsuccessful they finally convinced Mary to go with them to harvest turnips. Attacked and pinned down by Hannah, Mary’s throat was cut by her husband. She was bundled into a winnowing sheet and thrown into the River Avon, with the murderer’s intention that she be carried far away by the swollen river.

John told the story that his wife had run off with another man but had recovered her clothes which he sold. Mary was found the following day caught in the weir at Welford. John, Hannah and Sarah soon found themselves under arrest and detained at Warwick Gaol.

Sarah left this mortal coil before trial, but John and Hannah were found guilty and sentenced to hang. Hang they did on April Fools Day 1801, Hannah’s body was given to a surgeon in Stratford-Upon-Avon for dissection, whilst John was gibbeted near Binton Bridge, his life-drained eyes in full view of the weir that undid his crime.

The walk reached its conclusion in Market Place. The last tale of Weird Warwick coming from 1870 and the conspiracy theories of one William Haywood, who was convinced that the pain he felt at the end of the day, finding himself in the middle of town dazed and confused and being stared at by local women was down to a witch’s curse rather than the fact he was an alcoholic labourer.

The paranoia was levelled at Anne Tennant, who Haywood assaulted in the belief that drawing a witch’s blood would end the curse. Anne succumbed to her injury and Haywood was imprisoned for her murder. Haywood met the same verdict as the Mad Parson and died in confinement of consumption rather than at the end of the hangman’s rope.

The final words from the Chattergeist Touch – Slashed, Ridiculed being a fitting summary to the tragic tale.

The Weird Walk of Warwick was a captivating experience. Warrane is an excellent storyteller, bringing the streets and buildings around him to life. He is engaging, fascinating and clearly has a passion for the town he calls home and the dark history that lurks behind the façade. There is so much more to the walk and the stories that were told, but the correlation between the snippets that I have taken for this blog post and the results from the Chattergeist are compelling.

To find out more and book you space on The Weird Walk of Warwick visit their website www.darkwarwick.co.uk this is 90 minutes that you will not regret being a part of.

If you are interested in the Chattergeist Touch then all the information and 10% off your order is available by clicking here. (This is an affiliate link. Sales through this link will generate a commission.) 

Most Haun-Tent, Most Haunted Live, Orchard West, Dartford

I found myself in the ‘state-of-the-art’ temporary structure that has become home to live theatrical entertainment in Dartford since the discovery of Reinforced Autoclaved Aerated Concrete or RAAC in the traditional (and historic) Orchard Theatre. Now this is a paranormal blog not an architectural one but on the site of an old hotel then CO-OP is something that I can only describe as a tent. A tent that would hold a large circus, which brings us on nicely to what I had paid to see this fine April evening – Most Haunted Live.

Credit:SJP

Arriving before the house opened I found myself people watching. Members of the Most Haunted faithful, the curious and the dragged-along all queuing at the bar for the usual front of house offerings and usual front of house prices. What did not have a queue (or any noticeable interest) was a merchandise stand with our host for the evenings signed, authorial offerings, which in a way was a little sad.

Bored of people watching I became a little lost in thought as the marquee began to fill with ticket holders. Most Haunted, probably one of the most divisive programmes in paranormal television, could still draw a crowd. Was it that people could see past the allegations of fakery, trickery and staging or was it like slowing down past the scene of an accident to gawk at the mangled remains of metal and bone?

Most Haunted if you are unaware was a UK cable TV programme that aired between 2002 and 2019 and produced over 300 episodes. Described by OfCom (the British communications regulatory body) as show “where techniques are used which means the audience is not in full possession of the facts” its is therefore purely for entertainment purposes, not a legitimate investigation into the paranormal and should not be taken seriously.

The line up for the programme sounds like the set up for a joke a presenter, a historian, a parapsychologist and a medium (until Series 16) walk into a haunted building and… the presenter screams (a lot), the historian provides context to discoveries, the parapsychologist debunks and the medium picks up on the invisible and usually becomes possessed.

For many this was the springboard they needed to form an interest in things that go bump in the night but for others, including one of their own presenters, it was an opportunity to look at the claims under the microscope.

Knowing that the format for tonight’s show was watching clips of Most Haunted with commentary from those present at the time I was certain that they would not want to relive the episode that was shot in Bodmin Jail. The former prison in Cornwall became the final resting place of many a criminal, and a place where a renowned spiritualist medium’s career mounted the gallows.

Derek Acorah, is probably the most famous of Most Haunted’s mediums. His Scouse accent and spirit guide, Sam, becoming synonymous with the format. However his claims had begun to be noticed by cast and crew as overly specific, known to the location, but associated to the wrong artifact. Bodmin was the first location that the show’s parapsychologist Dr Ciaran O’Keefe set his bait. Feeding Acorah with a nasty South African jailer who went by the name of Kreed Kafer, an anagram of Derek Faker, Kafer promptly materialised. The next location, a little further down the road, Prideaux Place Derek found the fictional spirit of renowned highwayman Rik Eddles (Derek Lies). A third strike was found at the other end of the UK, Craigievar Castle, Aberdeen, where fabricated accounts of the spirit of Richard the Lionheart appearing through a wardrobe and a woman accused

of magic were recounted with the enthusiasm of C.S. Lewis even though the castle was built 500 years after Richard had died.

The death knell rang for Derek’s time on the show within the derelict remains of Barnes Convalescent Home, Manchester. The show claimed to be presenting from the site of Cheadles’s Victorian asylum and these were the agonised, tormented spirits that possessed the medium – however no one was tormented nor agonised and the premises had never been used as an asylum.

The revelation of Derek the Faker was a harsh blow to Most Haunted’s reputation, but being the open minded paranormal investigator I am, I noted the warning for haze and flashing lights on the wall and found my seat.

Credit:SJP

A rapturous applause greeted the Scream Queen herself, Yvette Fielding, as she took to the stage and introduced the Most Haunted crew, her husband and producer Karl Beattie, investigator Stuart Torevell and their resident sceptic Glen Hunt.

No sooner had the gents got themselves comfortable on the bar stool-esq tall chairs, the first clip was introduced, stage lights dimmed and the troupe exited stage left whilst the audience watched a large screen of Yvette screaming after something paranormal ‘occurred’, the team traipsing back to their seats and talking about their experience.

This format was repeated several times with different locations, with the ‘discoveries’ building in magnitude from knocks, bangs and whistles to furniture being thrown. It appears that Karl had taken note of previous critiques of his misogynistic language and instead resorted to playground humour, innuendo and questioning the size of Stuart’s man-hood.

What stood out from the cheap laughs was when they spoke about their investigative techniques. They came across very passionate about paranormal investigation. That although they enjoy a laugh and a prank with each other, when the camera rolls it is time to be serious. After one clip Karl and Stuart were explaining their rationale in using some of the more robust and confrontational techniques that later episodes became known for. The challenging, demanding, shouting and swearing types of communication, interspersed with Stuart’s regular resignations and statements that he will never come back (obviously the pay is good?). But for the patter and justification it simply boiled down to being antagonistic gets results.

With the final clip of the first act discussed, the house lights came up for an audience Q&A session. Sitting on my hands as I promised Mrs J I would be good (but being an antagonist gets results?) I heard the generic and non-memorable questions posed to these ‘greats’ of the paranormal world, and the equally mundane answers that the level of questioning required.

Question time up, the audience was reminded that Yvette enjoyed a large white wine and soon the auditorium was a-buzz from the private conversations of the congregation.

Nothing contentious had been raised by the first curtain fall, but as we settled back to the now familiar to-ing and fro-ing of the cast from stage to wings, the screen showed 30 East Drive.

Home of the Black Monk of Pontefract, this domestic haunting falls into the catalogue alongside the Enfield Poltergeist and the Borley Rectory as Britain’s most famous modern hauntings. But the simple council house in East Drive is home to the second most controversial Most Haunted story after Acorah-gate.

Credit:SJP

Arriving on our TV screens on the 18th and 25th October 2015 the two part Halloween Special A Nightmare on East Drive saw the first return to the Live! Format since 2010. The appearance of the title card on the big on-stage screen bought a tense atmosphere to the audience around me.

The footage shown and explanation after concerned the team experiences with marbles being thrown, gravity defying ping-pong balls, and the identical burn-like injuries sustained by Karl and Stuart in an effort to demonstrate the scary-side of paranormal investigations.

Aside from knives not being secured and moving around the house, seemingly unaided it is the footage that captured from a static camera at the bottom of the stairs that raised eyebrows of the sceptical community.

Live feed was directed to Yvette at the time a loud crash and Karl’s shouts were heard. A review of the static camera was then played which sees Karl seemingly pulled backwards up the stairs before being lost from shot. Footage shown after the phenomenon shows red marks around Karl’s neck which ties into his account that he felt he was being pulled upwards and backwards by the neck.

The camera never lies, accordingly to the adage, and what was spotted by one viewer was a white cable seemingly tied around Karl’s waist. The perfect mechanism to perform a stunt as had been witnessed.

The resulting backlash and claims of the format being staged caused Karl and Stuart to produce an explanation video to demonstrate that black, and even purple, cable appears white under the infra-red cameras. Admitting that there was cable tucked into Karl’s beltloop, but this was a trick of the trade used by all camera operators to ensure smooth shot capture and prevented the cable from pulling is snagged or stood on. What this video didn’t explain was why the cable was there in the first place - as Karl did not have a camera in his hands at the time.

The danger explained, Yvette issued a general call for volunteers to take part in the final element of the show; either a spirit board session or a night vision investigation of the toilets. A show of hands and the 8 participants were picked, as much as it would have been nice to have taken part I wasn’t going to wave mine or anyone else’s pants in the air for the privilege.

The new ‘team members’ were led to the stage and provided their name, whether they believed in ghosts and a story or two before divided into 2 groups (2 men and 2 women per group). The first group was assembled with Yvette and Glen around a large spirit board used in the show, the rest were led to the ‘state of the art’ bogs by Karl and Stuart. (Its worth noting in other productions the participants investigate a dressing room – but you have to use what you have got).

Credit:SJP

I can imagine that these investigations hold a little more gravitas in a traditional theatre. Stories of spectres that tread the boards are not uncommon for the buildings that witness the gamut of human emotion in a single evening, but a tent surrounded by shipping containers didn’t quite set the scene.

There are theories that the dead remain on the land that they once knew, but these stonetape replayings are not reported to be intelligent or interactive – which was what these experiments were really looking for.

But what did we discover?

The group on the night vision camera encountered tapping in response to questions, however the limitations of the camera angles and position of the microphone raised questions of the validity of the source. As OfCom previously stated Most Haunted is for entertainment purposes and the entertainment provided by the clear star guest team member was acknowledged by the audience on his return to the stage with cheers and applause.

The spirit board made me feel uncomfortable, not because I have anything against their use (in fact I loves them) but because of one particular sitter. Excited would be an understatement, clearly all her hopes and dreams had become a reality sitting on the stage with her heroes, but the desire for something personal, something meaningful just for her burnt as bright.

Any activity on the board was for her, a letter was highlighted it was her illiterate father; another it was an aunt. The laughter from the audience around me appeared to be at her rather than with her and reminded me of all the poor practice in this community’s history. The charlatan medium with their cold reading (or worse hot reading), the preying on the grieving, the false hope séances that legislation was written to prevent all came to mind – but also how susceptible the human mind can be.

The only thing I noticed, and it was a very small thing was the movement of the on stage camera that provided an over view of the board. It dipped very slightly before returning to its original position. The cable had been taped so did not appear to be a snag or the result of being stepped on, and there would have been no means of correcting a gravity induced movement of the fixing without physically touching the mount itself. So maybe out of all my doubts of the venue, the performers and the final séance there was something residing in this space.

Credit:SJP

So as the Most Haunted team took their bows and the audience went off into the night what were my views of this experience?

It was entertaining and a good evening out. The team were light-hearted and, although smutty, really engaged with the audience. The play on the well-known tropes of the show; the screaming, the running, the fear were quite repetitive but the passion for the paranormal really shone through in all of the team, and it was enjoyable to revisit some of the key moments of the shows history in their own words.

There is a danger in all paranormal productions that without viewers there is no show. Viewers are no longer satisfied with noises, claims of being touched or videos of ‘orbs’. They want to see danger. They want blood. They want to see an investigator dragged up the stairs by the neck. This is where the money is, and this is generally not the reality of paranormal investigations – as no one wants to watch 3 hours of someone standing in the dark with nothing happening.

Love, hate or feel indifference to Most Haunted one thing we can thank Yvette, Karl et al for is adding to the debate. Fact or Fake I have my views and I invite you to share yours.

Where’s the Pole? – Old Fire Station, Ramsgate

Passing the sign for the River Wantsum on the Thanet Way always makes me smile, as I read it as an invitation for a fight. However the location for tonight’s investigation was home to fighters of a different kind for over 100 years – Ramsgate’s Fire Fighters.

Credit:SJP

Before it became the home of Ramsgate’s Fire Brigade in 1905, the fire station was the residence of Rear Admiral William Fox, whose post was addressed to Effingham Lodge, Brick Lane, Ramsgate. Brick Lane became Effingham Place in 1785 before Place was changed to Street between 1849 and 1872.

My sat nav announced that I had reached my destination as I pulled into the yard of what is now Radford House. After scoffing a meal deal I had some time to take some external pictures of the station before I was joined by the rest of the crew from Ghost Hunter Tours (GHT).

Credit:SJP

With the night watch reporting all present and correct we commenced our pre tour of this location. The first comment “Where’s the pole? I was expecting a fireman’s pole,” was met with a laugh that echoed around the ground floor room, with electronic rolling doors that once permitted access to the fire engines.

Credit:SJP

This space, we were informed, back in Admiral Fox’s day was originally 4 rooms with the dividing walls taken down and the four ornate fireplaces boarded over to create an operational space for what was originally horse drawn fire pumps to be deployed from. Light streamed through the roller doors, which we identified may be an issue in using this space as it was very visible from the street.

Credit:SJP

Ascending to the first floor, there were two spaces available, the Dame Janet Room and a Kitchen/toilet area. The Dame Janet room was a basic square, meeting room set up with a 4 tables pushed together and surrounded by chairs – ideal for séance-esq experiments. The Kitchen, was going to be cramped space for the night but provided the option of separating the group and using the dog-leg corridor towards a toilet and shower room.

Credit:SJP

Credit:SJP

The top floor provided us with the T.G. Taylor Room, a nice big space with some tables and chairs that we could use. Next door was an office that was not to be accessed by guests, but feeling a bit mischievous decided that this was the best place to set up Drew and Graham, my firefighter dolls, for a locked-off experiment.

Credit:SJP

A pole would have been handy to make my way back to the operations floor, but as one could not be located I took the stairs.

Credit:SJP

The guests had arrived with whispers of “Where’s the pole?” Clearly there was some minimum expectations of an old fire station, but hopefully this location would not disappoint. This was the second known paranormal investigation of this site, but the first for GHT. The usual welcome and briefing over the guests were divided into three teams, mine remained on the operational floor to commence our investigation in the beating heart of Ramsgate’s Old Fire Station.

The daylight was still present as my group formed a circle around a K2, a multi-meter and cat ball to try and generate some energy to get our night going. I had set up my Plasma Ball on a nearby table, its tentacles searching for a means to earth being the only initial activity on any of the devices.

I took a temperature reading which read 20° and leaving the group to continue to call out starting to take some photographs and video.

Taking a video of the stairwell to the first floor I noticed the tell-tale specks floating at speed.

Orbs are one of the more contentious issues in the paranormal community. Gaining popularity with the move from traditional film cameras to digital imaging the term Orb was first coined by the International Ghost Hunters Society. However a change in recording process and a rise in phenomena reporting must, surely, show some corelation. The way digital photography works is that a light is required to activate a sensor behind the lens, but it is not a simple as that. You have to consider the quality of the sensor, the direction of the light and the components that sit in between.

I take most of my photos and videos on investigation through my Iphone, which if you notice some of the light anomalies that I have discovered are usually a green hue. This is because of the materials and processes used to make the sensor in this camera. Other devices will produce different colours, so this is useful to note.

So taking the above video, taken with only natural light coming from behind me through the shutters of the fire station doors, the ‘orb’ structures that are visible could have several explanations. They could be paranormal but on the other hand they could just be dust particles reflecting the light.

Dust, bugs, pollen, lens flare, over exposure, prolonged exposure are all natural explanations that could create this type of phenomena, throw in pareidolia and you delve into a deep rabbit hole, that is too deep for this blog post.

A second video, taken a short while later, this time with natural light from behind and from in front of the lens shows an ‘orb’ appear from the right and change direction heading towards the camera just above the plasma ball. I will let you draw your own conclusion on this one.   

Finishing my stint as David Bailey an Alice Box app was fired up and the group opened a spirit board. I continued to watch the plasma ball, which appeared to have quite a lot of interaction. The tentacles appearing to find points to earth and slither their way around the inside of the glass ball. The word “Scientist” came through the Alice box.

Pulling myself away from the dancing ball I crossed the concrete floor and went to sit down to observe the spirit board. “Sat” said the box as my backside hit the seat. The board was not doing anything much. The glass being used remained still. Thinking a change would help, I swapped out the glass for a wooden planchette.

Almost immediately the planchette slid across the smooth surface towards a particular guest, and was reluctant to move from this position. Asking to spell a name A-M-P-Y was spelled out. Ampy indicated he was 7 years old, that he liked this particular guest very much, as she remined him of his mother. A-P-O-M came next, asking if the spirit meant Atom, the planchette moved quickly to ‘yes’.

Ampy was an excited spirit, he loved interacting with the plasma ball, as he referred to it as atom, he was a good boy and was with 3 other spirits on the operations floor. Reports of a decrease in temperature saw a check show a reading of 19.9°, a drop of 0.1° was not conclusive as the sun had now set.

The Rem-pod began to flash, the board spelled out A-M-Y; Ampy’s mother’s name and activity began to dwindle. Closing the board we commenced an Estes Session, and conversation with Ampy continued.

Credit:SJP

As soon as the sitter was blindfolded and plugged in came the word “Hi.” “Is that Ampy?” a guest asked, the sitter replied “Yes”. Ampy reiterated that he was looking for his mother, Amy, but he was happy where he was. I sat down on the second step of the staircase to the first floor and the sitter stated “two steps.” I noticed that Ampy had good observational skills and challenged him to a game, asking him to activate the motion sensor music box that had remained silent all evening. The sitter responded “I’m gonna do it” and acknowledged the instruction to walk in front of it by saying “alright then.” The group were offering supportive and encouraging words, but as our session came to a close the box remained silent. The excuse provided by the sitter – “She doesn’t want me to come to her corner.”

During the review stage after the investigation, I though locating an Ampy may have been an easy task. Unfortunately I could find no record of any Ampys or Amys linked to the building in any of its iterations. The question still remains of who was in the corner and why she would not let Alby come in.

Swapping groups we filed into the Dame Janet room and took our seats around the table. Setting up the plasma ball, with a carefully placed K2 to prevent mis readings from the plasma, the group started to call out. The attention was soon focused on the tentacles in the middle of the table, which began to move as if being manipulated by something unseen.

 In order to test the function of the ball I reached out and placed my fingers on the glass. The purple/blue tentacles shot out to meet my fingertips, as I felt a firm, deliberate pressure on my back keeping me in the stress position that I found myself in. Feeling like it lasted a lot longer than it probably did in actuality the pressure eventually released allowing me to sit up properly, removing my hand from the ball.

The others sat around the table tried the same, tentatively placing fingers on the plasma ball, but none reported the same pushing or level of force that I had experienced. Suddenly the cat ball to my right burst in to life, well a partial life as only the red and yellow LED’s were flashing with a distinct lack of blue light. Coincidence bearing in mind that we were in a fire station? Perhaps but when the ball was checked at the end of the session it quite happily flashed with all three colours again. An interesting cat ball issue or spirit ability to influence a particular colour on the device?

Playing with balls had taken us to the halfway mark of our time in this space and having been sat down for a bit we decided to stretch our legs and head down to the kitchen area.

The natural separation created by the dog-leg corridor to a toilet made this space idea for an Estes session. So finding a willing volunteer to act as sitter we set up a chair outside the toilet whilst the rest of the group found a comfortable perch in the kitchen.

The usual starting questions; “Is there anybody there?” “Do you want to talk to us?” started this session. Although no response from the sitter a cat ball that had been placed in in front of them started to flash. “Are you male?” gained an “Mmmm” from the sitter with the follow up question “Old or young?” being responded to with “I know. Old.” The questionable response to the age being 1 was received but we went on to understand that there were 4 other spirits as well as 5-6 children in this already cramped space.

“Help, Help!” came from the sitter and as I went to ask questions I felt a tightening within my throat, as if something was blocking my airway. This caused a bout of coughing, to which the sitter stated “Cough, Cough” almost mockingly. Catching my breath I clarified the comment “Did you mean Fuck off?” I was told “No, No.”

The sitter reported that something was touching her hair, and when questioned if the spirit communicated was touching her “Yep” came the reply. The spirit was asked if they liked hanging around the toilet to which the reply this time was a definite “Fuck off!” followed by a word that sounded like ‘Ship’. As we bought the sitter out of her sensory deprivation I asked what the final word she had said was as it sounded like ‘Chit’. She confirmed the word – Shit.

The second and third sitters had no replies to any of the questions asked. However when asked if the spirit could turn the tap on in the bathroom during the final sitters session, a boiler situated in a cupboard suddenly kicked in with that distinctive sound of heating water. Coincidence? Possible, but boilers usually work on timers or temperature sensors. So hardly conclusive.

What was interesting was the sound of the door handle on the toilet turning and snapping back on its spring. The sitter reported hearing the sound over the noise cancelling headphones. The rest of the group reported hearing the same sound, so a shared experience. Checking the door, the sprung bolt had been rendered useless by years of gloss paint gluing the mechanism. Turning the handle, however, provided the same sound that had been heard.

A very interesting end to an interesting session on the first floor, with activity and communication provided by most of the equipment and experiments deployed.

A well needed break followed where one of the guests was describing entering the room on the top floor to discover chairs had been oddly stacked. Comparing photos with my pre-investigation ones and indeed chairs that had been folded and stacked neatly against a wall had been unfolded and stacked at odd angles. A little investigation uncovered this feat was completed by living hands rather than spectral means.

The paper cups properly placed in the recycling signified the start of the third and final session. Calling for my group we went to the top of the building to investigate the T.G Taylor room.

Starting out with a deployment of K2, motion sensor lights, a laser grid and a bell the group settled down, some stood others sat leaning against the walls to get a feel for this space. Once home to the station bar, the clean white paint on the plasterboard now hiding the history of this space.

Opening an Estes Session, the sitter sat in silence as the buzz of scanned frequencies entered his ears. Guests started reporting that they felt uncomfortable within this room, a Necromany App broke the silence with the robotic male voice “My life was taken.” The group then asked if Neil Fogg had followed them upstairs.

This group had encountered Neil during a spirit board session on the operations floor. Spelling out his name Neil Fogg said that he was an 11 year old boy, born in 1956 and attended a school near to the fire station. His short life was ended here in 1967 by a male called Peter, but Neil enjoyed being at this location.  Research could find no murders committed at or near to the fire station that matched any of the details provided by Neil.

The sitter, still suspended in sensory depravation had remained silent and so the headphones were handed over like a relay baton to the next willing volunteer. As the new sitter got comfortable “I can use this” was stated and the motion activated strip light was illuminated. A series of deliberate movements around the light demonstrated that the illumination was not caused by anything visible in the room.

“I lost my hair” came from the sitter, apt if you were to describe him and a ripple of laughter spread around the room. The sitter reported hearing laughter in his ears coming through from the spirit box. The sitter fell silent for a while, as did the group, fatigue begging to set in after such a busy investigation for all groups.

“Run!” the sitter broke the silence. “Run!” the sitter repeated louder and with a greater sense of urgency. Questioning why we should run, asking what was coming was the group’s immediate reaction – no one was scooby-doo-ing it out of the room, down the stairs and out into the dark night that had fallen on Ramsgate. 

What we did do was move a motion activated music box outside of the door, its sensor pointing to the top of stairs. The door ingeniously propped open with application of a K2 so that a weather-eye could be kept into the gloom outside to discount any physical body setting it off.

“Run” was repeated again, but this time it was set to the haunting soundtrack of the plinky-plonky music of the box. Silence fell across the room, and then the corridor outside. Someone asking for the music box to activate again had their wish granted. “Run” came again.

Credit:SJP

One of the group not listening to the advice to run, decided to stand in the laser grid. He reported feeling that his arms were being raised against his will. This coincided with a significant power drain of the laser, leaving a dull green curtain of dots. Taking the opportunity I took the multi-meter to see what the readings were in this situation.

Pointing the sensor end at the guests chest as you can see from the video provided a 25 reading on the voltmeter, this reading as moved away rapidly decreased before returning to 0. Setting up a red laser grid at the other end of the room, as the green had completely died. The guest moved to the opposite end. The voltage spiked hitting over 50 and then seemed to go mad, with readings topping 230-240.

Credit:SJP

Now its always good when dealing with electricity that you have an electrician on hand, and one of the guests was just that. Trying the multi-meter against light switches, cables and emergency lights the meter produced the correct and anticipate readings. So what was causing the voltage spike on the guest? We formed a circle and tested each guest, some had low readings but three in particular had readings above 90 that shot into the red.

The interesting thing was that if I touched them the voltage reading returned to zero.

This experiment turned into guests holding hands, the voltage reading levelling out with those in the chain until I touched any one on the chain and the reading would fall to zero.

Explanation – I cannot locate one. The readings are significantly too high to be natural electricity generated by the human body, as well as having a massive varying fluctuation. There was a resolute zero milligauss recorded demonstrating that there was no electromagnetic field detected. So why or how was all this electric energy being earthed through me. We were three stories up, I was wearing boots with rubber soles and this phenomenon continued I could find no explanation.

Not wanting to finish chasing the voltage as every finding became more and more interesting, being told that we were out of time was a disappointment.

So finishing packing up, I went to check on Drew and Graham and see if anything had wanted to play with them as much as they had wanted to paly with us. As you can see, another locked off experiment with no discernible movement.

Before Credit:SJP

After Credit:SJP

Ramsgate’s Old Fire Station provided highs and lows. The positives being interesting connections through spirit boards and Estes sessions, stories to investigate, strange electrical phenomena and lights and music boxes activating with no visible source. The lows being a negative result from the dolls, a lack of recorded, researchable record of those that we have engaged with and of course there being no fireman’s pole in the station.    

Credit:SJP

If you want to find out if you are brave enough then join Ghost Hunter Tours (GHT) on an investigation click here to find tickets for some fantastic venues. I can’t do them all (as much as I want to) but follow me on Instagram or Facebook to find out where I will be heading next.

If you are interested in the Chattergeist Touch then all the information and a 10% off in the shop are available by clicking here.

SJP is an affiliate of GHT and Dimension Devices. Sales through these links will earn me commission.

#SundayStories - "The Mysterious Visitor"

This weeks #SundayStory comes from an amazing woman who I met in Maidstone who wishes to remain anonymous.

I had seven staff that were constantly sneezing in the large office we shared. Along the hospital corridor we had Rose Gibb fighting the CDIFF outbreak which brought with it a mandatory use of sanitising concoctions to protect us from the bugs and the media storm that followed.

I decided that my office would need to be dismantled and cleaned to prevent the loss of staff to the threatened illness, and it would need to be done out of hours. So, I planned to come in on the Sunday to clear and clean the best I could. I arrived during the afternoon and dragged a ‘cage’ to put all the pc’s and wiring in. It would stand in the corridor whilst I set to washing and polishing walls, chairs and desks. My last jobs would be the hoovering and then rewiring of equipment.

The good thing about the Oncology Centre was that the door to the main hospital corridor was locked at the weekend, the lights were off, both inside and out in the central garden area. Nobody knew I was there. Nobody knew I had a key to the side door, and an in order to remain inconspicuous to the rest of the hospital staff, I left all the lights off except for those in the office. The winter afternoon sun had already gone down and I saw my own reflection in the windows as I worked, bathed in the only room with light.

As I bumbled on with the job I heard a voice calling ‘hello’ and I went into the corridor to see who it could be. A particularly ordinary lady was there, holding a bag. ‘Can I help you?’ I asked. ‘I am here to visit my mother’ she told me. I couldn’t work out how she had got in. ‘I am sorry, but this end of the hospital is closed, you would need to use the main entrance as the whole department is locked. If you hold on, I will get the keys, let you out and show you the way’

My keys were within arm’s reach and I stretched to grab them to open the door. Stepping over the hoover I ventured further into the dark corridor but she was not there. She had gone. I could not find her and all outer doors were locked and alarmed. I ventured outside just to see whether she was walking towards the main entrance, but nobody was there.

It took a while to digest the event as it seemed so normal, and not one bit paranormal, but the more I considered it and checked the department, the more I question its reality.

It wasn’t sinister, I wasn’t afraid but she definitely wasn’t there.

#SundayStories - "Sad Annie"

Todays #SundayStories comes from the same great author as last week. A massive thank you to you.

The old hospital had seen many changes with areas and wards being renamed or refurbished for new technology since the beginning of the NHS in 1947. The Bury Hospital was no different. Wards that were styled in a dormitory fashion, with a matron at one end and a coal fire at the other were reformed into wards of expertise, followed by specialised units. How many people had been admitted or stayed is impossible to say but countless people ended their lives there. What is certain is the dedication of Nursing staff whose vocation was, and is, the driving force behind the best care they can offer.

We watch them work with absolute precision with their starched uniforms, reassured that they follow complex and abundant rules to ensure patient dignity and safety. What we don’t see are the unwritten procedures, the instinctive responses that the medical profession follow when it comes to death.

Nowhere in the rules does it instruct nurses to step back when a patient is reaching the end. There is something about their personal space where a tangible, invisible ‘something’

In order to run two hospitals from a live system, I was sent to an older hospital to transfer patients from paper diaries to the electronic option. This was an arduous task which had to take place outside of normal working hours.

Although the older hospital was adapted to receive very technical equipment it retained its older style windows, doors and decoration. The department, placed in the corner of the hospital, required few windows and thick, lead-lined walls. At one end of the department there was a locked door leading to second door which opened into a ward.

Many smaller clinic rooms were dotted around the inner walls of the three treatment rooms, between them cupboards with linen and a number of antiquated toilets. Chairs were placed in all available spaces to provide seating for waiting patients. Old metal screens with large wheels and floral fabric divided seated patients from those on gurneys.

During the day the area was filled with sound but silence fell quickly, like an invisible blanket as the last of the staff and cleaners collected their coats. They muttered as they proceeded down the corridor turning off lights and closing the door behind them. At the other end of the corridor through the ward linked door I could see nurses and catering staff pulling trays of supper from a large metal trolley. No sound was heard.

Not having any desire to spend the whole night so far from home I settled down to transfer the data, ticking check lists as I went along. I had been working under a solitary light for long enough to drink coffee and eat a banana when I heard someone crying. It was a quiet cry, one I imagined to be of sadness rather than harm. I looked up from my work trying to locate the sound but it stopped. I discounted it but there it was again- it was louder now and appeared to have moved.

My mind sparked into work mode with my first thought being that of distressed staff. I knew very few people here, I had no idea who it might be or why she may be crying. She must know I am here as I am tapping on the keypad. Perhaps she wants privacy, that’s it, I will give her space, let her come to terms with her problem alone.

Was it the situation that gave me a chill, or the dropping temperature? Whatever, I shivered. This time the crying was more urgent and my thoughts shifted from staff to patient. Nobody would leave a patient behind, everyone knows the drill, a patient is never left behind. What if ….. I should check.

Rising from my chair I tried to locate the sound in my head. I called out ‘Hello?’ but there was no reply. Systematically I opened doors hoping to find whoever this was and being unaware of the department I found myself entering cupboards and store rooms, toilets and darkened clinics hoping to reach the person. still calling as I went.

It’s funny how the sound of the large brass locks clunking shut seemed to make the department darker, two senses merging and creating fear. The crying now was ahead of me, in one of the treatment rooms. It had moved. Had it moved around me? Was it following me? I hadn’t felt it or seen it and now I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything about it. Fact was, I had no choice but to locate it so I walked into the treatment area along the winding entrance called the maze. Whoever this was could not leave without passing me and the crying was definitely in there.

My hand fumbled along the wall searching for the bank of light switches, pausing momentarily as I thought: perhaps I was mistaken, maybe this was two people and the sound wasn’t crying. Too late. The lights flickered on and the crying stopped. No one was there, no one person, or more than one person. The room was filled with a presence which I imagined was looking directly at me as I had turned on the light. I wanted to run.

Fear now set in, was it hostile? Was it behind me? Would it follow me? How do I get out? I calmly walked back through the maze leaving the lights switched on- this night the NHS would be paying for electricity! I tried to concentrate on turning lights on as I walked and collected my paperwork. If only to break the heavy silence I spoke out loud, apologising for disturbing her and offering to leave her in peace. By the time I reached the end of the corridor I was feeling physically sick and desperate to hear the crying again as this would confirm the distance between it and me, I looked over my shoulder expecting to see a face or feel a finger poking me in the back but there was nothing. My fear was not of the presence but of its attitude: as though it was equally shocked or invaded. It was encouraging me to leave swiftly and swiftly is how I left.

The car park was almost empty with my car parked under a tree, its leaves rustling in the wind. I was glad to drive away and not wishing to see a passenger in the rear-view mirror, I opened the windows, cranked up the music and hammered home.

The next day I tentatively relayed the event to colleagues over lunch. One of the staff that frequented the older hospital was biting into her sandwich as she said, ‘Oh that’s Annie. She used to be a matron when it was the old ward and is often seen or heard crying as she walks around. Did she see you to the door?’

Cells, Chambers and Cellars: Part 2, Maidstone Town Hall

This post concentrates on the second night of Ghost Hunter Tours investigation of Maidstone Town Hall. Catch up with the event of night one here.

Credit:SJP

A month ago was the first time I had walked through the front doors of Maidstone Town Hall and experienced what the three floors had had to offer with a fantastic group of people.

Now 4 weeks later it is important to discuss the variables that could influence the night’s vigils. Half of tonight’s crew were new to the venue, and although we had all worked together before, we all bring different experiences, thoughts and expertise to the experiments. The guests were all completely new to the Town Hall, with a fantastic mix of first timers, experienced hands and beliefs. Our host for the evening was Russell who had replaced Ray, and would be spending his time catching up on his emails.

Weather, light and the phase of the moon were also all different and so could also have an influence on the night’s results.

So what had remained the same? The building, was unchanged and the same areas as night one; the Cells, the Council Chamber and the Cellar would be in play. The timing, a Friday night starting at 2000 hours was the same as before, and correlated with similar people seeking alcoholic spirits and a good time in the local pubs and clubs.

Chairs set up, tea urn on and we were all set for the arrival of our guests for the evening. Disappointed with the lack of interaction with my handcuff and whistle locked off experiment in the Cells I changed tack and set up a magnetic white board and letters asking the question “What is your name?” in the hope of some movement this time around.

As I was setting up the experiment I took a cheeky look into the attic space, that was off limits due to the risk of falling through the floor, and took some photos in the hope of finding something lurking in the shadows.

Credit:SJP

Credit:SJP

As you can see I was left a little disappointed.

Replacing the board at the bottom of the stairs, to prevent unauthorised access I went down to the room adjoining the Council Chamber and tucked a chalk board with the question “leave a message” and a choice of chalk under a table. Having provided some instruction to any spirits listening I returned to the ground floor to meet the teams for the evening.

The same briefing was provided, but a change was the celebration of a couple of birthdays. Lifting the energy with a rousing ‘Happy Birthday’ and presentations of cards, the sound of the door was heard again.

The distinctive mechanical click was traced to belonging to a clock hanging on the wall in the corridor leading to the stairs. Interesting evidence from night 1 – debunked.

Credit:SJP

In a change from the first night my group would be starting in the Council Chamber, so once everyone was reminded of their group number (another constant from the last investigation) we climbed the stairs to the first floor.

As we pulled out our gadgets and gizmos our guests formed a circle in the middle of the horseshoe of tables and started to get used to the noises from outside and the feel of the space. Setting out my now super charged plasma ball (I had it plugged into a rechargeable battery pack), a motion activated music box and some cat balls – the group began to call out.

I placed my K2 on a desk and set up a laser grid. The K2 was again registering 3 milligauss indicated by the flickering orange light in the middle of the array. This was the same as the first time, and even using a second K2 the results were repeated throughout the banks of tables. There were microphones and cables running along the inner edge of the horseshoe, and an illuminated panel on a podium appeared to indicate the system was live.

Credit:SJP

Waving the K2 to identify any massive peaks found it top out at 3 milligauss with no areas of peaking to red identified. A further check with my multi meter presented no voltage detected but a reading of 3.3 milli gauss around the cables. I could only conclude that the readings we had seen on both occasions were electromagnetic frequencies emitted by the set up in the room rather than anything paranormal. Another piece of interesting evidence debunked.

What we couldn’t explain was the sudden activation of the motion activated music box. The sensor was pointed towards the back wall (towards the cheap seats) and no one had moved anywhere near its angle of range. It may be an errant rodent but there was no evidence of rats or mice residing in the opulence of this room.

A second activation of the music box was followed by a visible power drain of my laser grid, which had been fully charged before tonight, prompting me to check this failing piece of equipment. In doing so my boot hit a cat ball, which you would expect to illuminate. But it remained resolutely dark. My crew mate was adamant that it was on when she put it down, and I had seen it flash when deployed. Pushing the little red button, it burst into life flashing red, blue and yellow. So I placed it back allowing it to reset before tapping it with my toe to be greeted with an explosion of coloured light.

My attention was diverted from the cat ball to the plasma ball as it was described as behaving weirdly. One of the female guests who was sat near it was reporting that she felt that she could not move, like a child who had been naughty and the eyes of a parent were upon her. The plasma ball was happily seeking for an earthing point on the side furthest from this particular guest but the tentacles facing her were resolutely static.

Credit:SJP

Moving the ball the effect was the same on the side closest to her, so I suggested that maybe she would be a good conduit for a human pendulum. In my blog I tend to not write about guests personal experiences, as they are personal. But the information that we gleaned raises a point of interest for myself, hitchhikers.

I’m not talking about the accounts of people who have stopped to pick up a sodden person from the side of the road only to discover them vanished on arriving at their destination. I’m talking about spirits who seem to find interest in a particular person and follow them around.

Ghost hunts are prime ground for any spirits to be able to communicate with this realm, mostly because we are actively asking for them to step forward and talk. You will often get Great Aunt Ethel or Uncle Bert come through on a board, even I have received personal messages when out at Maidstone Museum.

Usually we thank these spirits and give them a moment before asking them to step away but sometime its worth pursuing, but always mindful as not everything that purports to be friendly actually is. This is because 1, we are here to investigate the location and the hitchhiker cannot generally provide that information; and 2 because a personal message for one guest is not likely going to interest the rest of the group who have paid for an experience.

In this case, there was an interest in the story and the emotions displayed by the guest. The human pendulum provided some answers that corroborated her beliefs of who was trying to make contact.

We closed this session with a spirit board, but aside from a feeling of vibration coming from the planchette, and a feeling of a temperature drop (but the thermometer registered no change) no further communication was received.

Credit:SJP

Exchanging groups it was time for our second vigil, which saw my return to the Cellar. During the previous visit the word Candle appearing on the screen of the Chattergeist Touch had made me think (and make an equipment purchase).

I suggested to the group that we try something, that I hadn’t seen on any ghost hunt before – Candlemancy. Explaining the theory of using a lit candle that spirits could interact with, and the safeguards I had attempted to put in place to prevent errant gusts from interfering with the flame it was agreed and we commenced our first experiment.

Credit:SJP

Setting the candle in a deep glass container I lit the wick, the yellow flame cutting through the darkness of the tunnel-like structure. We establish communication, movement of the flame indicated ‘yes’, a static flame for ‘no’.

Asking around the circle the flame appeared to respond to questions but no links to the area were established. The experiment was on the whole enjoyed by the group but a lack of corroboration or meaningful responses means that further tweaking and maybe inclusion of additional equipment would add value.

Of note in lighting the candle the oppressive atmosphere that was prevalent on both occasion in the Cellar lifted almost at once – maybe the spirit who dwells below the hall just wanted some softer light for their room?

Sensing a slight reluctance in the physical use of the spirit board, I suggested the use of a hands-free option, producing the Chattergeist Touch. Setting it up with my prototype paper board the planchette freely spun. Adding an Alice Box into the mix enabled an element of corroboration, as when asked how many spirits are there here? The planchette pointed and the Alice box spoke the same word – Three.

Making contact with a spirit called Roger we flipped the board over to the ‘ye,no,maybe’ side. Roger said that he was still with us as you can see in the following video:

Continuing our questions Roger confirmed that he enjoyed our company, reiterating it with a screen colour change.

A similar report of a pacing guard, soldier or policeman was made walking backwards and forwards as felt during our first investigation. Was this Roger? It is difficult to say with the information we had gained. Searches for a Roger connected to the Town Hall have been inconclusive but it was good to see that even in such an oppressive environment that the Cellars had been there was something that did in fact enjoy our company.

One of the ideas suggested by a guest was to increase the number of colours that the Touch displayed during the planchette mode. This has been passed to Dimension Devices who have included this idea in the patch notes for the next update.

Our time below ground over it was time for a break, and it was interesting talking with the guests over a well-deserved cup of coffee and a slice of birthday cake how many similarities had been discovered during their vigils to this time on the last investigation. The names William, George and John featured, as well as Elizabeth and Sarah. Activations of cat balls, K2s and Rem-pods had all been witnessed.

Revitalised by our break, we called for our final group and headed to the top, to finish our evening in the Cells.

Credit:SJP

Catching our breath, the guests familiarised themselves with the room, reading the graffiti and minding the roped off section. We set up a plasma ball, cat balls and K2s and commenced an Estes session. Pulling a chair into the further cell the sitter sat and the safety light went out. “Dick” came from the sitter. I asked if that was in reference to anyone here or if the name was Richard. “Yeah” came the reply.

Over the 2 male sitters the words were uncomfortable “Rape,” “would her” and words that the sitters refused to repeat came through the static of the Spirit Box. The atmosphere felt close and tense, the subject matter raised clearly upsetting.

Credit:SJP

Further research could not uncover a Richard sentenced with sexual offences and no Richard appears on the Penenden Heath hanging lists for the offence of rape (burglary and highway robbery but nothing correlating to what we received).

Placing several objects on a shelf on the opposite wall I asked any one present to move it, push it and even challenged to throw it at me. But there was no indication of movement at all. Suddenly we heard the sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs open and close I looked, expecting to see someone coming up the stairs. No one was present and on checking no one had been near the door whilst we were in the cells.

I took some photos, illuminated by my UV torch as my red torch had decided to give up the ghost, but nothing was uncovered.

Credit:SJP

Our time had been served and it was time to close the evening with more questions than we had answers but also having had some really interesting experiences.

Collecting my locked off experiments, the letters on the board in the cell did not appear to be moved, and my chalk board had received no message from the other side.

Before Credit:SJP

After Credit:SJP

Before Credit:SJP

After Credit:SJP

My thoughts on the way home revolved around my head. There were so many similarities to what had been experienced in the Town Hall.

The Cells had provided very consistent feelings with all the guests, a sense of foreboding, of anger and fear. The names John and William recurred during all the sessions and appeared on devices used in the location. One thought of this was priming, our guests were told the room was used to hold prisoners, the names John and William are also documented amongst the graffiti on the walls and floor.

There is a lack of known information about who was held in the cells, documented evidence does show that prisoners were held here awaiting deportation, but there is a lack of clarity as it appears the Town Hall cells were not the only place of incarceration for the Assizes.

The cells were decommission in the mid 1820’s apparently after a scandal was caused during a prisoner escape. I could find no record of this daring feat and would love to know more about who and how this was accomplished.

Prisoners were not executed in or near the building as records show that executions were held on the other side of town at Penenden Heath until moved to Maidstone Prison. So if the spirits we encountered had been deported or departed elsewhere why would they return to this dingy wood lined box in the centre of town?

Credit:SJP

The Cellar is another interesting space, the only thing that appeared to lift the oppressive atmosphere was the lighting of a candle. Similarities between both nights were that there was this feeling of something pacing like a guard. The tunnels usage has no record but is believed to stretch for quite a distance with a shop on the corner of Gabriels Hill reporting tunnels under their shop. These are believed to have belonged to a 14th century abbey that was constructed but was not put

into operation with its crypts and vaults filled in to create basements for the shops and buildings that came later. Which would probably explain why no reports of phantom monks, nuns or clergy were reported.

Credit:SJP

The Council Chamber was odd, with differing reports from those who entered there on different nights. The first night receiving a young boy called Alexander and the second engaging with a guests hitchhiker over anything resident.

I love it when guests make contact to share their own experiences and research, as I can only write from mine and any additional research that people can find is always useful. One guest wrote to me with her experiences of the night, and I found her experience in the Chamber really interesting.

She reported an impression of masonic rituals, secret societies and a need to be ‘male’. She shared the sound contamination problem and concurred with my assessed of K2 activity and proximity to cabling. Further research I uncovered that Robinson Lodge No. 2046 was consecrated at 1430 hours on Friday 7th November 1884. That consecration and many subsequent lodge meetings were held at the Town Hall. So the perception of ‘ladies nights’ and the removal of female fingers from the table was very apt as her group then finally saw some activity from the table tipping experiment they were performing.

So when looking at the variables, did they impact across both nights? The answer is yes. There appeared to be more activity from the experiments that we conducted on night 2 over night 1, but it is interesting that not all responses were the same. The appearance of a hitchhiker and the masonic connection appear unique to those that experienced them, but both groups of guests put everything into both nights.

You could therefore say that as long as everyone gives there all on an investigation then some of the spirits will communicate, but they might not be the same ones or even the ones that you expect.

Credit:SJP

As I have said, even after my research of what we uncovered over these two fantastic nights, I still have so many questions of who or what remains at the Town Hall. I’m hoping one day to return would you join me?

If you want to find out if you are brave enough, then join Ghost Hunter Tours (GHT) on an investigation click here to find tickets for some fantastic venues. I can’t do them all (as much as I want to) but follow me on Instagram or Facebook to find out where I will be heading next.

If you are interested in the Chattergeist Touch then all the information and a 10% off in the shop are available by clicking here.

SJP is an affiliate of GHT and Dimension Devices. Sales through these links will earn me commission.