T'was the Investigation Before Christmas

 “Dead to begin with.” The best opening line in any story (in this investigator’s opinion) and the words floating around my brain to drown out the bell-spangled Christmas music coming from my radio. My destination was Maidstone, more specifically the Elizabethan manor house that was home to the Maidstone Museum.

Credit: SJP

As the multicoloured twinkling lights adorning the houses were replaced by the vivid red brake lights of vehicles I found myself on the A229, more famously known as Blue Bell Hill, serving as the County Town’s gatekeeper from Medway. My descent reminded me of the most famous of all of Kent’s hauntings a roadside spectre with over 50 sighting reports has several names, including the Phantom Bride or the Ghost Hitchhiker, but she (being dead to begin with) is known as the Ghost of Blue Bell Hill.

Legend has it that Suzanne Browne was travelling with two friends when her vehicle was involved in a collision near a bridge over Old Chatham Road. This crash interfered with her ability to get married the following day (20^th November 1965) by tragically ending her short 22 years of life.

The first report occurred 4 years later where 2 pedestrians were seen walking towards the witness, who was on his way home to Rochester, only to suddenly disappear. The same witness reported seeing the pedestrians again, only for a car to drive straight through them.

The haunting had escalated by 1971 when a girl in her 20’s appeared in front of James Skene’s vehicle. James gave her a lift to Chatham but as she alighted on arrival, she simply vanished. Since then continued reports of a young female, either flagging down a lift or locking eyes with drivers before evaporating in front of them have been reported.

Such is the reputation of this road one could be forgiven for falling under the spell of priming, where the experiencee has prior knowledge of a place and that expectation of seeing the paranormal overrides that person’s ability for logical thought – if you expect to see a ghost, you will see a ghost (dear reader – Marley had not appeared to me yet).

Such was the advert for tonight’s encounter. Once again the challenge “Are you brave enough?” was laid down by Ghost Hunter Tours who were hosting a second night (the first one sold out and was very active by all accounts) at Maidstone Museum. The poetic, gothic style advert promising gruesome, whispered secrets with the air resonating with the cries of anguished souls. Was I primed? Probably not – but would that affect the other guests?

Accounts of paranormal activity at the museum include temperature changes, ominous feelings from death masks, depressed feelings from prints, a small coin being repeatedly thrown at an employee’s head, footsteps and an apparition seen on CCTV when staff were locking up.

I try very hard not to look into the history of the buildings or people prior to an investigation. This is to try and avoid any self-priming and my visit to Maidstone Museum was no exception. The only things I knew about the space before hand was that they had dinosaurs and an Egyptian mummy (which would not be part of any experiments during the evening).

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My prior knowledge was such that I expected the entrance to be through the Elizabethan doors, flanked by stone lions (I was not the only one) but soon realised access was granted through the “Goldibox” entrance at the side.

As we waited for the GHT crew to receive us, a disorderly queue (more a gathering) formed at the correct door. Conversation was soon entered, and like our Victorian ancestors we were soon sharing our own ghost stories from previous investigations. A couple I was talking to were telling me of the strange happenings at the home, which would ebb and flow over the years – including noises, a chair falling over and the repeated throwing of a hoover (if you read this I would be very interested in seeing what I can find out), which could not simply be explained as being a piece of undigested beef. Equipment was discussed and soon the Ghost Tube SLS app was downloaded on a phone. As we were discussing infrasound and proximity to train tracks, entry was permitted with the task of finding your name and remembering your team number (Team 2).

Credit: SJP

Remember the promise from the advert? “Maidstone Museum’s insatiable hunger for souls shows no mercy” appeared very much removed from the briefing we received as we were informed that we were not expecting any fire evacuations during our experience. The elf and safety (Christmas pun very much intended) out of the way, the memory game was played (at least I could remember that I was in team 2), and the big group divided off for our first session of the night.

Our first location was the Curator’s office on the ground floor furnished with desk, chairs and a Christmas tree (it was December so probably allowed). The walls were covered in books and high windows let in the external light (and sounds of the intoxicated) into this large space.

Encouraged to get a feel for the room as the usual bits of equipment were dotted about, we then formed a circle holding hands whilst the crew took us through a white light protection ritual and then we started our investigation.

The first thing I noticed was the decidedly missing fizz of anticipation. Had the reality of being in this space, and the laughter directed at supposed frauds during the briefing evaporated the hunger of the quest; or was it that my group was just dismissive of festive spirits?

The first sign of activity was from the sudden brightening of the first green LED of an EMF meter and then the light blinked off and back on again. The device, tried and tested over many investigations (with box fresh batteries came the assurance) was behaving in a way that no-one had witnessed, not even the crew. As they led the calling out the meter flashed to amber in response, and then a cat ball went off – its blue/red/yellow lights illuminated the corner of the room. Had Jacob Marley entered the building with a precursor of what was instore for us? Time would tell.

Shutting my eyes for a brief moment in an effort to ground myself I felt the crew member to my right lurch forward as if he had been forcefully pushed. Now the sceptic would say the company would want this to happen, but I honestly believe there would be no foul play from any of the crew we had that night. The push happened again, affecting him to the point where he left the circle to recover.

The activity continued with alternate lights coming from the EMF and the cat balls. A green light in the top left corner of the room then started to flash. I joined in the calling out, trying to illicit a response from whoever was with us.

Change of equipment was suggested and we broke the circle. A spirit board was opened with several sitters (including myself) with their finger atop the glass. After a silence that seem to go on for hours I felt compelled to get this glass moving and was soon curating the questions to elicit some form of response.

We established a spirt call Leo N, who was 57 years old and born in 1827. A Steven was mentioned and some sort of trouble that Leo did not want to divulge. When asked who Steven was the glass slid around the board spelling out K-O-Z-O, and I expected the last two letters to repeat themselves.

A ghost of Christmas past? Zozo or the ‘spirit board demon’ was first reported after the possession of a young French girl in 1818. A cruel, sadistic entity that first pretends to be helpful and friendly before demonstrating its true colours. It preys on the fears and insecurities of its victims causing negative feelings that can build to depression, draining emotions or inducing feelings of paranoia. Anecdotally this malevolent spirit was said to be the possessing force of Roland Doe, whose exorcism in 1951 was the inspiration for The Exorcist. Had we found Captain Howdy?

Not hearing the ominous strains of Tubular Bells or witnessing shapes darting in the shadows, the logical thought was that one of the sitters was manipulating the glass, or that Leo simply could not spell cousin. The consensus was that Steven was a cousin and that ended the activity on the board, however whoever the spirit was they were still enjoying orchestrating the light show from the devices around the room.

After we had closed down the board and retrieved the equipment we were off to the second room of this session. In my notes I wrote Cannon Room, but in fact this is the Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment Museum. As we were leaving the Curator’s office I bumped into a member of staff and asked about the green flashing light in the corner. She confirmed it was a PIR sensor for the security system “and it does that” (so that theory was debunked).

Credit: SJP

The room felt very flat, and as we set up a table-tipping experiment I heard the distinctive sound of a rem-pod, thinking at least another group was at least getting some activity it spurred me on. An EMF had been placed by a drum on the floor and was slowly flickering (a present ghost or too close to an electricity cable?) and another meter was placed on the table, along with a set of lieutenant stripes and several fingers (they were still attached to the members of the group). The calling out was by the same voices, asking, urging and then pleading for some sign of activity.

Wrong declared the Chattergeist as we asked if the stripes showed his rank. Sergeant was offered as an alternative and the EMF flashed in response. We challenged this Sergeant to move the table and then ordered movement, which remained static as if to attention for the whole time and after a few more amber flashes from the EMF it was time to pack up and ship out for a short break.

Opting for a bottle of water, and pretty much downing it, I realised how much talking I had been doing during the first session. I overheard other groups discussing their findings, stick figures from an app, several knocks and the appearance of an African male’s face during a scrying session were all very interesting – but did not want to contaminate my thoughts so did not pry any further.

“Team 2” came the call to arms and with a change of guard saw us passing by our previously investigated rooms into the local history collection. Like Scrooge rationing the fuel for the fire, the rooms felt as cold and flat as his office, but as we moved into the glass fronted displays of the costume collection an EMF activation appeared to indicate this was the place to start.

The crew set up cat balls and a motion activated music box. The idea being that if anything tripped the sensor the ominous plink-plonk of the mechanical music box would alert investigators. Traps deployed we formed a circle and asked if any spirits present would make themselves known. The music box started up, and after a bit of debunking it was repositioned. Bangs on the glass cabinets came next, one to my right, then to my left and then the haunting sounds from the music box – this time set off by the invisible as the sound of a rem-pod echoed along the corridors.

I was drawn to the metal staircase, which I was informed was off limits, which led to the dinosaur exhibit. It felt as though something was watching from above. A spirit communicator app produced the words Jennifer, Handmaid, Murdered, Holiday and it was decided to try an Estes Method experiment to establish further details. (For more on the Estes Method see Are You Brave Enough?).

The first sitter had donned the blindfold and headphones, but appeared overwhelmed by the amount of white noise the spirit box app produced and was soon handing the equipment over to myself. As I sat there, the buzzing white noise in my ears in the darkness of the hoodwink I called out what I heard. Suddenly I heard the very clear words, Gregory, December as if they were produced by a Necrophone type app. Removing the kit I asked if the phone was running something else and was told that it was only the spirit box that was running. Diving back under into sensory deprivation I was greeted with sounds of a disturbance between a male and female. Words were indistinguishable but clearly there was some desperate fight going on in my ears. Was this Gregory and Jennifer? Was this the final moments of the holidaying housemaid? I received no confirmation. The sound subsiding into the pulsating changes between frequencies, there was no further communication.

Handing back the headphones Group 2 divided, with half remaining with the headless mannequins and myself and a few others seeking the spirits elsewhere in the space. Settling for another attempt at table tipping we set up in the Tudor Great Hall. A cat ball was placed on the long table as we gathered around a much smaller one each placing a finger on its top.

Taking the lead I asked the spirits to provide some proof of their presence to my sceptical companions. Asking for the table to be moved, to tip up on two of its legs, to be shoved towards one of them. I was met with the feeling of vibration but nothing more dramatic than that.

Credit: SJP

Our smaller group, having lost interest in the table descended into talk of other haunted places. The room feeling a quiet as the grave, until the tell-tale light of the cat ball cut short the conversation. Floorboards were tested, even though none of us had moved, to ensure it wasn’t a false reading and we horse-shoes around the table. The ball extinguished and when asked illuminated again. Obviously the spirits were feeling left out of our conversation. A heard of elephants appeared to be in the room above us, crashing through the stillness of the wood-panelled hall which signified a break before our final session.

A new session, new crew, same Group 2 but this time we headed upstairs. As my foot landed on the top step I felt an immediate pain in my right knee, the Touch produced Thigh, Problems. The pain was constant, burning and unrelenting as we got our bearings over the several galleries that made up this space.

We were told that before the investigation began Museum Staff had asked the crew to go with them as a previously shut door had been opened and a light turned on. The crew made their way through 5 locked security doors where the light was turned off and all doors closed before they returned. As we stood on the threshold between Archaeology and Natural History it was noticed that the light was turned back on, and the door was once again open.

This being a good spot as any, it was decided to try some glass work. Using the same principles as a spirit board, glass work uses an upturned glass on top of a table with predefined answers on it, such as yes, no, good, evil. The theory is that spirits will move the glass to answer the questions posed by the sitter.

Contact made, the glass began sliding around the tabletop, answering the vague opening questions of the session. “Do you feel an affinity to anyone around the board?” came the question, the glass gliding across the surface towards me. Its difficult using predefined answers to get a fully rounded picture of the communicator, but this entity said it was something I had met before. Discounting departed family or deceased friends, I listed the locations that I had previously visited with all the answers being in the negative. Had I met all of my 4 Christmas Ghosts? Marley and Past in the Curators Office, Present in the Tudor Hall? Was this the future one? Was this from a location yet to come? It offers the question whether spirits have the same concept of time as the living. I asked if this spirit had a personal message for me, ‘Yes’ came the reply. This made me feel uncomfortable as I attend these events to uncover the stories of those attached to the location. Thanking the spirit I asked for them to step back and if possible to give me their message another time in another way.

The glass, resolute in the centre of the table, we started talking amongst ourselves and I mentioned that the pain in my knee was still there. I was told that on the previous groups someone else had said that they had a pain in their right knee and in another a female became distressed when she felt something grab her thigh. Sharing the Chattergeist’s words a murmur of interest spread around the circle, an interest shared by an invisible force as the glass slid ‘maybe’.

Contact reinitiated we asked questions to help tell their story, “Can you show us?” I asked, ‘yes’ came the reply. Breaking out the dowsing rods (yes was crossed; no – open) I asked if the spirit could show me something they had connection to. The rods directed me right, into the natural history section talking me on a tour of all of the displays before pointing me in the direction of a badger. I asked if the phantom would show itself to me if I took a picture, rods crossed – pictures taken, and on review I could not see any apparition.

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The rods then took me back to the table and beyond before ending pointing at a set of Roman coins. As I asked if it was the coins, the pain in my knee suddenly vanished and I received nothing further from the dowsing rods.

Returning to the table, after others had been directed to the badger, further questions were asked with an identity of Farmer Lamb being provided. Later attempts at research could not locate a Lamb association, nor could any of the names or events from any of the sessions be located.  

After packing up, I spent some time talking with our hosts who were disappointed that the evening had not been as eventful as their previous night. I said that I had a great time and had really enjoyed working with the board in the Curator’s office as it was the first time that I had managed to get names and dates through. I felt really pleased when I was told that my work in the first session was really good and exhilarated when I was told that I would made a great addition to their crew. My observation was that any spirits seemed to be watching and waiting and if I were to investigate again it would be interesting to set up some locked off trigger objects to see if not paying them any attention would provide any results, like the cat ball on the great hall’s table.

Before saying goodbye I did ask if any of the other groups had been using Rem-Pods during the evening, to which I was told that they hadn’t, which made me question the frequent, distinctive sound the devices make that I heard all evening. Echoes of past investigations, or investigations yet to come – we can but hope.

Deal Me In

Rumoured to be the landing site of Julius Caesar during his invasion of our fair isle, Deal in Kent has received mixed reviews as a town. Samuel Pepys described it as ‘Pitiful,’ Daniel Defoe faced a libel case after calling for ‘drown’d sailor’s widows to pull it down’ and William Cobbett described it as a ‘villainous place, full of filthy-looking people’. My drive into this sleepy, seaside town felt like a transportation back in time.

Ghost stories of Deal appear to be limited to a grey lady (there is always one) who once got on a bus only to disappear from the top deck and the phantom of the Lady Lovibond; whose legend says that after the ship’s master married the love of his first mate’s life (on 13^th February 1748), the second in command murdered his superior, running the ship aground on Goodwin Sands causing the loss of all hands. This unrecorded tragic event (possibly an early 20^th Century love story) is said to be repeated every 50 years, with such clarity that nearby vessels have taken action to assist the stricken vessel only to discover nothing when they arrive. The more sceptical opinion is that it was written as a romantic Valentine’s day piece by a journalist in 1915. 

My destination was Deal Castle, one of the line of forts designed by Henry VIII to protect the southern coast from all the people he would piss off with his life choices, and after parking up I was soon walking over the wooden drawbridge and passing through the heavy doors to meet the team from Ghostly Encounters.

Credit: SJP

A briefing and protection circle later the hunt was on, and we were soon trooping up the spiral staircase to the first floor. The floor was divided by wooden walls with doors, as we filed into the space it was not long before my fellow guests were all commenting on the negative feeling coming from the fireplace. Cat balls and Rem-pods deployed, the calling-out started. A report of the feeling of being pushed came from one man, a women complained her hair was being pulled and then came the feeling of a significant change in temperature.

Deal Castle, was designed in a very revolutionary way with round walls to deflect cannon balls, observation and gun ports to provide a 360 view, internal plumbing and ventilation. These vents were designed to funnel the smoke from fires and guns away from the lower floors – and made the castle very drafty. This could therefore be an explanation for the change in temperature, it could also explain doors closing on their own – but could it be an explanation for a well-fitting door, with turn knob handle to fly open on its own?

As the door opened all I could smell was smoke, the smell that you get from a wood burner. I called it out. “I can’t smell it here” came the reply “I can smell tobacco smoke here” from across the room, “I can smell it now” the first voice said again. As the burning smells wafted around the room, they suddenly left as quickly as they arrived.

The larger group split up, (I stayed with the ominous fireplace) filing around the circular space, and as the doors to the various rooms and sections were closed an odd silence descended on the room. The unseen physicality continued to affect the other two people that had remained with me, and as we were getting no response from the EMF detector or cat balls that we had set up I suggested we try a technique I had learnt at East Gate House.

We stood in a circle and held hands. I called out “Spirit you seem to prefer physical contact rather than playing with our lights and devices, if you are here and want to communicate, please can you raise one of our arms?” We waited, the silence felt crushing, nothing happened. “Can you give us any sign you are here?” I called, ‘throomph’ a sound from an adjoining room; the sound of running footsteps came from outside the other door.

Opening the door, no one was in the hallway and asking if anyone had been out here came a resounding ‘no’. Entering the adjoining room, which was lined with low bookshelves set up as a charity library we found a copy of Peppa Pig Nature Trail lying on the floor. Checking the Chattergiest’s screen the words lend, bookshelf, bothering had just appeared. Maybe whoever was here was content to do their own thing rather than perform for another bunch of ghost hunters.

Credit: SJP

Replacing the book on the bookshelf, I was informed that it was the most hated of all books by teachers at their school, I asked out that if the spirit wanted to give me some proof they were here then put the book back on the floor. Leaving the room I found another part of the group about to conduct a spirit board session.

We were informed that this was a new board and had not been used before. The board was opened and we stood around it, each with a finger on the planchette, calling for anyone who wished to communicate to come forward. The planchette felt like it was bubbling with a fizzing energy but remained in the middle of the board. Time was called and the board closed down. There had been a lot of activity but no clues as to the identity of any of the castle’s occupants on the first floor, the continuous feeling of being played with and observed was a little unnerving.

After a suitable caffeination session (and the obligatory pee stop) we descended into the bowels of the castle. In a previous life used to store weapons, gunpowder and food to make the castle viable it was now an open space with nook and crannies to explore. Following orders we gathered around the well, and after many Samara references we went lights out.

On the wall of the well cat balls, EMF detectors and a Rem-Pod had been set up, and as we started to call out, the same wood burning smell swept around the circle anticlockwise. The pitch blackness was suddenly interrupted by a white light in the corridor leading to the well. (Ghostly Encounters only use red torches on their investigations). As I was stood directly facing the now illuminated passage I could see the light was coming from the equipment basket which was sat on the floor with no one close to it. Members of the crew located the source, a mag-lite that was used in an experiment called the mag-lite trick (where the end is screwed a ¼ turn away from contact with the hope that it can be manipulated from beyond the veil and turned on or off in response to yes/no questions). Had the illusive book-throwing spirit from upstairs followed us down, continuing to watch and toy with us?   

We shifted positions, rotating anticlockwise, trying to stir up the energy. As I reached about the 7 o’clock position the sound of female voices were reported from the other side of the well from me. I could not hear the voices, and what they were saying was reportedly unintelligible. What I did hear, however was a request for a guinea pig – “I knew it would be you, its always you” came the response to my raised hand.

Led, like a contestant on the Crystal Maze, I was placed in a room and the door was closed behind us. (Unlike the Crystal Maze I was not alone, I was with a member of the crew and another willing volunteer.) On entering the room it felt as through there was a presence in the corner, which nothing could be seen, but there was a sense of expectation that you have when you can sense something is there. I stood in the recess within the wall, which was not designed for the taller human, and closing my eyes tried to assess how I felt. I started to feel pain in the left side of my neck which quickly spread to my shoulder. A burning, tightening pain that persisted even when swapping my position with the other guest. He reported feeling nothing as he stood in his sentry box, as the pain affecting me was becoming intolerable I had to leave the room. As I stood stretching out my neck and shoulder, I was informed that the sensation of pain was a frequently reported phenomenon in this room. No one knows why, and no one has found any records for what the room was used for. There are theories that someone had been hung or had hanged themselves in the space but there is no corroboration. More concerning, or at least disconcerting was that when I checked the word history on the Touch, the only word that had appeared whilst being in that room was my name – SAM.

Credit: SJP

As the rest of the group were taking their turns in the hanging closet, the unaffected one and I went on a little excursion to the entry point to the tunnels. We had been informed that due to the recent heavy rains, one half of the tunnels were submerged and were inaccessible – and as there was a sign we did not venture into that side. We could look, however, into this section of the tunnels, through a very convenient shooting hole. My partner had fired up an SLS app and as he was scanning the inaccessible room, a stick figure filled the gloom.  Taking a photograph we set about trying to work out if there was some physical element that would provide this reading – finding none, and quite excited about this discovery we headed back to share our findings.

Credit: SJP

Finding our fellow investigator regrouping we about turned and headed back to the tunnels.

As we marched single file, boots squelching in the puddles, we were assigned positions – one to a chamber. Cat balls and a rem-pod deployed the order for “lights out” was given. I stood face to face with my shadow caused by the outside light streaming through the slit in the external wall. As calls went out for any spirits to make themselves known, an excited squeal let out from further up the tunnels. A cat ball was flashing, its red, yellow and blue light streaking around the walls. I checked the Touch, crash, plane, rut, trapped, followed by injures, occupied, entry, hobble appeared on the screen.

Could this have been the ghosts of the downed Dornier DO17 Z-2 1160, shot down by the brave boys of 264 squadron in the opening days of the Battle of Britain? Accounts show that Z-2 1160 was part of a formation on a bombing raid to Debden and Hornchurch airfields. The original Prisoner of War account states that on 26/08/1940 they became separated from their formation whilst flying above cloud and lost their bearings. They then came under attack by the Boulton Paul Defiants from Manston who shot out its engines and cockpit causing their plane to force a landing on the Goodwin Sands. The pilot, Feldwebel Willi Effmert was wounded, but he and Bomb Aimer Uffz Hermann Ritzel were able to escape the wreckage before being captured. The two other aircrew Wireless Officer Unteroffizer Helmut Reinhardt and Bomb Aimer Gefreiter Heinze Huhn were recovered deceased.

It would make sense that as Deal Castle was being used as a forward command base for the region that any enemy captured or bodies recovered would have been bought here before being moved to the most appropriate location for their status. My research has stalled in obtaining documented proof of where these airmen were taken after their plane went belly-up.

What we do know is that Willi and Hermann were taken to Canada as POW, Helmut was buried in Holland and Heinze was buried at Cannock Chase German cemetery. The Dornier was recovered in May 2013 and taken to RAF Museum Cosford.

To bring a more light-hearted mood the Touch provided Release, Rodger and to the chorus of Monty Python we retired for coffee and cake.

Credit: SJP

Our final session was concentrated on the ground floor where, as usual I started at the end of a narrow corridor. Armed with an EMF detector I started to call out. The Rem-pod at the corridor entrance, emitting its shrill alarm was followed by a less ethereal “sorry, that was me”. This continued the theme as we moved around the space where we made our last stop in the chapel.

The chapel was a relevant space to finish our investigation. The clock had ticked over into Remembrance Sunday and being surrounded by the wreaths and poppies it was a good place to reflect and give thanks for all those who had given their life in the service to their country. As we spent time in quiet contemplation the question was poised “is this how you would like us to remember you or is there something else you would like?” Fresh, Cigarettes came the reply.

Before leaving I returned to the library to see if our book loving friend had again demonstrated their power. Locating the Pepper Pig epic still sat on the bookshelf, I concluded that the spirit had had its fun and was no longer in the mood to play.

During my drive home thoughts of ghostly smells filled my mind. Many hauntings frequently report scents – is this an easier form of communication for the spirit world to use, does it require less energy or is it simply rifts in the space/time continuum that allow molecules of the past to transport into the now? This will definitely be something to research in future investigations.   

 

 

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The Secrets of Glastonbury - Part 3

 

As I drove along the rural roads into Glastonbury, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising pumping out of my speakers I was met with the Hunter’s Moon, looming large over the Tor, burning through the Avalonian mists – a good omen (I hoped) for the nocturnal adventure to come.

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This final part of my exploration would be a ghost walk provided by Extours, who promised an immersive blend of history and the supernatural through the hidden tales of the legendary town, with the opportunity to engage in a genuine paranormal investigation. It wasn’t long before I was parked at St Dunstan’s car park (which was free) and checked in with our guide for the evening, Fi (Fiona, but she always felt that she was in trouble when addressed as such).

Our first stop, after a brief introduction and firing up the Chattergeist Touch, was opposite St Margarets Chapel, Magdalene Street. Fi explained that in the 1750’s Glastonbury attempted to profit from the miraculous waters that flowed from the many wells and springs at this end of the town. The result was a pump house, built at this location, which is said to be frequented by shadowy figures and ominous feelings.

The Touch, in response to Fi stating that this venture was not successful, returned Why, Homegirl and as if in response to this simple question Fi simply stated that Bath was just more popular.

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Recalling negative feelings is a common phenomenon of this area as there are reports of the residual feeling of sadness associated with a room at St. Margaret's Chapel, or more specifically the alms-house. The story goes that there was a woman who gave birth in an upper room. This mother knew that there were those that wanted her child dead and so kept the birth and her location a secret. Tragically she was discovered one fateful night when a group of men broke down the door and wrenching the baby from her grasp never to feel the embrace of the mother again. The loss and grief permeated the very fabric of the building and was so long lasting and pervasive it required an exorcism to prevent the affect on all who entered.

The tales of those who lived and died within the hospice appear to have been lost to time or local memory, as I can find no corroboration of this story, which appears to be a theme of the record keeping of Glastonbury’s past.

There are further reports of apparitions of monks (another theme of the town) around this location – but that is not surprising with such close proximity to the Abbey and its tumultuous history.

The next station on our tour was Abbey Park. I imagine it to be a nice open green space in daylight, but the darkness emphasised by the shadows of the ancient and gnarled trees provided the right atmosphere for a spot of investigation. As we processed past a couple of locals conducting their own séance with bottled spirits we gathered round as Fi introduced us to Peter.

Peter, a misogynistic and aggressive personality, got off on the wrong foot with Fi when she initially found him, but over time he had warmed to her, and the groups she bought to him. Not much is known about who Peter was in life, but in death he has demonstrated a mastery of foul language and a penchant for physical aggression – especially towards women.

Breaking out her bag of tricks, Fi was soon handing out EMF detectors and dowsing rods to those who wanted to experiment, whilst her phone was running a Necrophone app and the Touch was silently scanning in my pocket.

As the group became accustomed to the tools of the trade, we started to call out – asking if any spirits were present to come and talk to us. Reports of flashing lights coming from the EMF meters were soon reported, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation – was Peter now with us? I asked if those with flashing lights had turned their phones off or put them in flight mode and to a soundtrack of rummaging in pockets and bags the confirmations trickled in.

Had we established contact? Haunts appeared on the Touch’s screen. The electronic voice from the Necrophone indicated to Fi that Peter was with us and he wanted to play. Forming a circle, I asked if Peter could cross any of the rods to show his presence. ‘Crossed’ came the reply to my left. “Peter can you uncross this set of rods if you would like to communicate with us?” to which the distinctive sounds of metal scraping on metal were heard as the tips separated. ‘Charles’ said the Necrophone – “My rods have crossed” came from in front of me. And soon we established Peter on the rods to my left, Charles to the front of me and a female on the rods to my right. (The name was produced by the Necrophone but I was not able to write it down.)

Like a conductor of a very small orchestra, we established that Peter was, or believed himself, to be titled (or at least of somewhat importance) and that he was accused of some crime by this female with the assistance of Charles. Peter would not divulge the nature of his offence only that he was absolutely innocent of the falsehoods created about him, and he loathed the female for what she had done to him. The Touch adding some assistance providing Corrode, Sneered, Marquis, Egotism. But as with my research of the social history of Glastonbury I could find no documentation of accusations made against Marquis Peter or any links to Charles.

Credit:SJP

Suicide prompted the Touch as we arrived at the junction of Hill Head and Butleigh Road, Fi told us what was discovered in the un-consecrated ground below our feet when they were developing this junction – staked corpses. My research corroborated this account as I found a document published in 1904 written by The Late J.G.L Bulleid (6 x mayor of Glastonbury and founder of the Glastonbury Antiquarian Society) which recorded that when they excavated a road through Culver Close they discovered the remains of suicide victims, each with a stake driven through them.

Such was the custom of burial after a self-induced demise, considered a sin and fearing their evil spirits would return, the superstitious believed that staking the corpse would tether the spirit to the ground, preventing them from leaving, with the cross roads acting as an insurance policy - if the spirt was able to leave they would be confused due to the many option of which direction to take. 

As we walked along the A361 towards the Chalice Well, I had the opportunity to talk about my paranormal experiences with Fi and the techniques that I had used. The Touch lit up Desperation, Divination, as I was talking about my first try using a scrying mirror at the Alex (see Ghostly Encounter(s)) and the feeling of bombardment. Crops, Rye appeared as she imparted that there was an inquisitive female spirit that would often join the tour along this section of the route and she hoped that we may be graced with her presence this evening – Glastonbury was a big Rye producer so maybe she did.

We stopped on Chikwell Street at the junction with Dod Lane. Research of Dod Lane shows one of the reasons for its name was that Lydia Dod lived here – but I can find no record of who she was or who she was related to. Other origins of the name are linked to the prosaic meaning of a quagmire or dirty lane but more likely Dod comes from the word Dead due to the frequent procession of undertakers, hearses and coffins that ran along this road to their final destinations. Chikwell Street was also the route the pilgrims took leaving a lasting legacy as their phantom processions re-tread the road – leaving a feeling of joy and elation with all who witness them.

The are several accounts of spectres on Dod Lane, Richard Whiting (the last Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey who met his fate hanged, drawn and quartered on the Tor) has been sighted here, and he may be the same headless spirit that has been witnessed at twilight sat on the gate at the end of the lane.

Hoping again for something more positive from the Ghost Tube SLS app, I fired it up and scanned along the road. As you can see in the below image a headless stick man, albeit over 8 foot tall, was witnessed floating above the pavement. In an effort to debunk I checked for any key vertical points but this green figure was distinctively between the two gate posts so unlikely to have been produced by an erroneous reading. 

Credit:SJP

The tour continued along Silver Street, where several of the guests were reporting fluctuations on the EMF detectors. The fluctuations appeared to be near to large manhole covers so were more likely detecting electricity (or errant mobile signals) than something from the beyond. One of the younger guests reported following his signals which appeared to direct him away from the group and up a very dark driveway between two houses – being a sensible young chap he decided against submerging himself in the pitch black, and instead returned to the group excited with his discovery.

Credit:SJP

At the end of Silver Street is a gate (that leads to the grounds of the Abbey) juxtaposed with a masonic hall. Here I thought I would try the Touch’s ‘Onvoy’ mode. The Onvoy (by Ghost Stop) is a unique device that is designed to be simple for spirits to interact with. It produces letters, yes/no answers, numbers or emojis through scanning through set lists and allowing sensors to be manipulated by the unseen to enable communication. The Touch (having an 8-Ball and an emoji mode as well) in its ‘Onvoy’ Mode produces a grid of syllables, derived from environmental data, presented in two different colours in a grid pattern. The idea is to derive the communication by working out the relationship between the syllables.

Credit:SJP

As you can see from the image the meaning is not necessarily as clear as using the library mode. Fi informed us that there have been reports of a young male who was stabbed close to this location – whether this person had died here had not been identified and our brief investigation gained no further information, even with the use of the rods.

Cutting through an alleyway we entered High Street and stopped outside the Assembly Rooms, opposite the Tribunal. It is here where 6 unnamed members of Monmouth’s rebellion were publicly hanged from the sign of the White Hart pub. Sightings of the ghosts of these unknown rebels have been reported, suspended in their final moments. Fi explained that her investigations may have uncovered that there were at least 7 renegades executed for their crimes here, Trees from the Chattergeist (along with further research) suggests that after the Bloody Assizes (overseen by the Hanging Judge, George Jeffreys at the Tribunal) the road was lined by corpses of the traitorous, swinging from the trees that lined the road from Glastonbury to Bridgewater.  

Credit:SJP

Tabina, Ascends caused the Touch to illuminate which could link to an interesting article of a now returned stone mascot called Jack Stagg which once adorned the Market Cross, which is now stored within the museums collection at the Tribunal. Maybe someone wants Mr Stagg returned to his rightful place above the town.

The next words to appear Illusive, Labourer, could have a link to a story from the 1960’s. The Tribunal’s gas pipes were in need of a change and as such a representative of the local gas board and his mate were dispatched to assess the tunnels where they would be laid. He lit a lamp and descended below the ground to start his survey. He noticed there was someone ahead of him carrying a lamp lit by a candle, thinking it was his mate, he called out and received no response.  Waving his lamp, his subterranean friend copied the movement until the light began to dim and the figure disappeared into the gloom. When he found his mate, who hadn’t ventured into the tunnels at all, he discovered that the end of the tunnel had been sealed off – so he should have been alone.

As we bimbled down the High Street, in a style very unlike King James II’s phantom army whose echoes reportedly cause the ground to shake, we arrived outside The George and Pilgrim Public house. This pub, made paranormally famous by Guy Lyon Playfair’s ‘The Haunted Pub Guide’, was built in the 15^th century to accommodate the wealthy pilgrims that came to Glastonbury. 

Credit:SJP

The accounts from this hostelry cover the full gamete of paranormal activity from smells, sounds and apparitions. Reports of monks, the smell of cigar smoke, monks, a man in historical dress walking through the bar, monks, disembodied footsteps in corridors, monks, the sound of a violent argument in the bar, monks, flashing lights, monks, banging noises and more monks. One tale takes us back to the tunnels, which were used as a covert passage between the inn and the Abbey, before piped gas.

The silence of the hotel is broken by the sound of creaking, the ancient timbers settling or footsteps along the well-trodden passages? A spectral monk followed by an elegant looking lady with a look of longing admiration on her pale, emaciated face is seen. A vow of celibacy divides this unconsummated love; desire and frustration trapping these lovelorn spirits earthbound to spend eternity wandering the corridors unfulfilled.   

The Touch, resolutely scanning produced no insight (a vow of silence perhaps?) – but the George has been added to my wish list of places to investigate.

We passed the market cross and possible site (according to Bulleid) where a large horse-pool was filled in after the near drowning by ducking of Rebecca Brook a notorious scold and otherwise a woman of bad fame, as the Chattergeist lit up. I read out Coronavirus, Deathbed, Resurrect, Death, Possible as one of the group members with better local knowledge than me pointed to the building behind us telling me that it was a nursing home. A more recent addition to the spirits of Glastonbury, perhaps, wanting their story told.

Credit:SJP

We walked around the traffic island on which sits St Benedict’s Church until stopping in St Benedict’s Close. This was not the original name for this road (also the church was not originally called St Benedict’s rather St Benignus’). Renaming appears to be a theme in this part of town as where I was now stood was originally called Gropecunt Lane – because this is where the local prostitutes plied their trade, emphasised with the word Tits showing on the Touch’s screen.

There are accounts here of the spirit of a man being seen on the Church roof, where in life he was stood before he put gravity to the fatal test. This maybe a confusion with fate of John Bullhead, who unable to fulfil his role as guarantor for an ill fate canal project, jumped from the tower of St Johns Church leaving only his mangled remains. Taking a burst of a few photographs I discovered nothing supernatural occurring in this quiet corner of town, however using the Ghost Vision SLS app I captured a giant figure, which may have been a misreading of the architecture than the presence of the departed.

Credit:SJP

And depart we did, completing our circle of Glastonbury.  But what did I learn from this experience, firstly that the combination of ghost walk and investigation is a brilliant idea (especially as due to what we were experiencing it increased the length of the tour by 30 minutes). That Fi is a brilliant guide, and shares my experiences of the paranormal investigator’s hangover. Thirdly that Glastonbury is really bad at publishing its history, which could (puts tin foil hat on) lead to a conspiracy theory of a church run cover up - they don’t want you to know the truth.

And lastly its really difficult to take photographs when you are walking.

Credit:SJP

I am an affiliate of Dimension Devices, the creator of Chattergeist Touch. My reviews are my own and unbiased opinion. I will receive a percentage from sales through my affiliate link https://dimensiondevices.co.uk/shop.php?affiliate=sjp

Secrets of Glastonbury - Part 2

Previously on Secrets of Glastonbury, Mrs J (the mountain goat that she is) and I ascended the Tor, drank from the Chalice Well and added to my ghost hunting arsenal with the acquisition of a pendulum. But the spirits do not seem to be interested in conversing, with the sum total of bugger all coming through my equipment.

It was time to regroup and refresh and finding the local eatery My Fine Deli on the high street, I refuelled with a ploughman’s platter so large, filling and amazing that it would have justified an afternoon nap. After the last crumbs of cheese had been consumed, leaving only smears of pickle and chutney as testament to my conquest, we were off to our third site of the day – Glastonbury Abbey.

Credit: SJP

Rumoured to have been built on the site of a church constructed during a third visit of Joseph of Arimathea, the now ruins of the once great abbey are one of the key tourist destinations Glastonbury has to offer. The earliest evidence of there being a place of worship on the site comes from 700 years after the death of Joe’s nephew, with Roman and Saxon activity being excavated from below the foundations of the existing structures. Further invasion of our fair isle saw the Normans arrive in 1066 and the change of management led to the brutal death of many Saxon monks. Change being as good as a rest, the monastery flourished until 1184 when a fire destroyed much of the building resulting in a charity drive to fund repairs.

Henry II, being a charitable bloke, coughed up a significant amount of the repair bill – until he coughed his last leaving the monks high and dry and financially cut off. Coincidentally 2 years after their main benefactor fell off his perch, the monks amazingly discovered the body of King Arthur and his (second) wife buried under the floorboards. One creative advertising campaign later, the newly discovered bones become a draw for pilgrims (and their heavy coin purses) travelling from Wales to Canterbury. By 19th April 1278, the Abbey was complete and in a ceremony fit for a (departed) King, Arthur’s remains were removed under the watchful gaze of Edward I and reinterred in a black marble topped tomb elsewhere on the site – forever to be lost due to Henry VIII’s destiny to have a male heir (and his fondness for wedding cake).

Credit: SJP

The death of last abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, Richard Whiting, echoed the fate of the Abbey. As he was found guilty of robbery (the fictitious treason charge being changed at the last minute after the riches of the abbey could not be located) he was dragged to the Tor, hanged and dismembered. The Abbey was promptly pillaged of all valuables, its very fabric dismantled, removed and repurposed – leaving only what now remains for visitors to see.

It is on this note that we re-introduce Frederic Bligh-Bond into the story.

As mentioned in part 1, Bligh-Bond designed and gifted the Chalice Well cover, but this was not his only legacy in Glastonbury’s history. In 1899 Fred expressed a belief that the design of the Abbey formed some sort of messianic code and was soon writing papers like a Victorian Dan Brown. His theories came to the attention of The Bishop of Bath and Wells (who may or may not have eaten babies) who installed Bligh-Bond as their director of excavations. The team that were employed in the uncovering of a series of small walls were not your average archaeologists with beards, large hats and small paintbrushes, all pursued by Tony Robinson and the cameras. In fact, the advisory team that Bligh-Bond used were significantly more transparent and very much dead.

Termed Psychic Archaeology, Bligh-Bond, through medium John Alleyne (to his friends Captain John Bartlett), claimed to have made contact with dead monks through automatic writing. They provided him with information and instructions on where to excavate.

Paranormal assistance in the study of the past is not just restricted to the Abbey excavation. Karen Hunt employed the use of dowsing rods to detect electromagnetic photo-fields in Point Crook, Australia. Augustus Le Plongeon used séance, occult practices and meditation in his investigation of the Mayan site of Chichen Itza, Mexico. Mediums have also been employed in digs searching for the truths about Alexandria, the Pyramids, The Sphinx and Atlantis.

Sceptics state that rather than anything mystical or paranormal, the knowledge of period architecture, site history and cultural norms are the reasons for the ‘psychic’ archaeologist’s discoveries. And of course the other classic sceptic response- that ghosts don’t exist, let alone have the abilities of a phantom time team. The Church of England soon discovered Bligh-Bond’s use of ethereal employees in 1921 and sacked him, partly because they disapproved of spiritualism, but mostly because he was a bit weird.

Bligh-Bond however did rediscover the nature, location and size of a number of buildings lost to the past – whether this was through old fashioned research, by just being a bit lucky or through receipt of spectral assistance, we will never know. But taking inspiration from Frederick’s spiritualist practice I fired up the Chattergeist and turned on my EMF detector in the hope that some of the deceased clergy would take an interest and want to communicate with me.

Credit: SJP

Standing at the brown plaque detailing the location of where King Arthur was originally discovered, I let the small black puck scan the surroundings. Result: nothing, which was unsurprising as the sign told me that Arthur had been moved on several hundred years ago so why would he still be hanging around an old hole in the ground?

With the screen resolutely devoid of words I took a stroll across the well-tended lawns in the direction the Abbot’s kitchen. Suddenly the screen lit up with Irk, Irrational, Struck; reminiscent of the negative undertones received when I started using the Touch at Stonehenge. Finally something promising from Glastonbury.

As I crossed the threshold of the Kitchen, Albertson, Effort, Bronchiectasi and Tabernacle flashed on the screen. Having a search around Albertson linked to the location I could find no link to anyone by that name at the location, however a lung condition would lead to effort in breathing and a Catholic Church having a Tabernacle would make sense. This could just be clutching at straws or at least making the puzzle pieces fit by cutting off the jigs and the jags.

Credit: SJP

As I sat on a bench at one of the long tables that show visitors how the kitchen would have been set up when it was operational, my attention was drawn from the flashing screen of the Touch. Expecting some sort of canine at the end of the lead the only other visitor the kitchen was holding I was distracted by the tiny form of a cat, having the time of one of its nine lives, rolling around a large stone bowl. Breaking every known social convention, I entered into a conversation with the feline’s owner and discovered that this mill stone was this cat’s favourite, that it enjoyed going for walks and sightseeing (but I was met with disapproval from Mrs J when I recounted my tale as I did not find out the cat’s name).

The conversation becoming a dialogue I explained what my electronic pets were and that I was looking for ghosts. The woman, possibly breaking into some quiet prayer, tightened her grip on the cat’s lead and backed away slowly. Bemused by her reaction and realising that the adage ‘if you cant see the maddest person in a room – then its you’ might be correct after all, I left the kitchen and tried to locate Mrs J.

Credit: SJP

Outside the kitchen is a fenced of ruin with a heavy metal gate, which I later learnt was called a Galilee. The Galilee was used as a turnstile for pilgrims to wait their turn before filing through to the main event to pay the devotions. Whilst I did my best meercat impression to locate my missing wife, the EMF detector flashed to mid-range several times. This could signify a spectral presence but was more likely caused by an electrical cable that ran the lighting in the kitchen. I discounted it and resorting to more modern-day communication, flipping my phone off airplane mode and making a call. Stowing my gear into my many pockets and following the instructions provided, I located Mrs J sat in the basement of the Abbot’s Hall.

After my attempts to try out some SLS apps at Eastgate House were proved fruitless due to lack of suitable light, I took advantage of the well-lit environment to test them out. The apps that I had downloaded were GhostTube SLS and Ghost vision by Jada Soft. To the uninitiated SLS stands for Structured Light Sensor and was given birth by Microsoft as the key human interface part of the Kinect for the Xbox games consol.

In simple terms the Kinect camera generates an invisible grid that would detect a human form and, depending on the game, will let the player control an avatar, control a raft down river rapids or cut fruit through moving your body and swinging your arms around. The interesting thing discovered by players (especially those playing on their own) was that randomly, and with no logical explanation, the game would register that player 2 had entered the game. The theory began that the Kinect could pick up spirit, and so portable devices were developed and sold as an investigative tool. SLS cameras retail for a lot of money – but are meant to show the image of a spirit represented as a stickman on a tablet screen.

So how would these apps, reliant on the iPhone camera, compare? Trying both apps in the same location, they appeared to identify the visible human figures meandering around the hall, producing the expected stickman overlay. The Ghost Vision app seemed intent in producing stick figures from the horizontal lines of the buttresses in the stonework leading me to believe that the basis of this app was to produce something from nothing rather than spirit detection.

The GhostTube app performed in a similar manner but did produce an interesting stickperson figure as you can see from the photo below.

Credit: Mrs J

Still unsure of the validity of these apps – and whether their ‘for entertainment purposes only’ status is more apt, I resolved to further test them when I had access to an actual SLS device and draw comparison from there.

Feeling a little disappointed with the ‘evidence’ I had obtained during my daytime investigations, but very grateful for the opportunity to investigate such a legendary set of locations, it was time to return to our rented cottage before I would return to Glastonbury for a night time ghost walk and investigation with Extours – stay tuned for my nocturnal experience coming up in the third and final part of the Secrets of Glastonbury.