Boo(ks)!!

As I have gotten older I have become less and less of a reader. My preferred choice was a Marvel graphic novel because I could take my latest one and sit in a coffee shop and not get too many odd looks as I engrossed myself in the costumed heroes whilst sipping a large black Americano. The adage of if you can see the weirdo then its not you is difficult when your hot bean juice is sat next to a copy of Holzer’s Ghosts: True Encounters from The World Beyond.

Credit:SJP

The solution came in the guise of Kindle Unlimited (KU), a book subscription service from Amazon. Sharing the account with Mrs J it is not hard to see the differences in our reading material of choice. The covers lined up on the electronic shelf of graveyards and silent screams vs the never-ending collection of topless men who always appear to be searching for their shirt, are hidden from judgemental eyes behind the screen of your mobile phone. (Mrs J would like to add that romance novels are the bestselling genre worldwide thank you very much and since she writes this stuff she would know).

A library in your pocket (for a subscription charge) KU has really changed my reading habit causing the devouring of many a publication, in particular the works of Richard Estep.

Before I packed my bag and left the Shire, heading to Tonbridge Castle for my first investigation, I thought it would be best to research some of the techniques used by those that had gone before me. A simple search uncovered Estep, an ex-pat-brit-medic-paranormal-investigator who describes himself as as sensitive as a house brick, recounts his experiences in the field in an easy to follow, informative and entertaining way.

Credit:SJP

With Richard and his team I travelled to Gettysburg, Malvern Manor, Denver Botanic Gardens  and many, many hospitals in his home country of America. Although departing our shores he was not banished from the fair Isle with the spirits of Bodmin Jail, HMP Shepton Mallet and 30 East Drive calling to him from across the Atlantic.

It was from Mr Estep that I learnt the importance of preventing hitch-hiking phantoms from following you home after one incident that resulted in Mrs E setting up decontamination procedures after a particular pesky entity set up residence in their home and only being forced to leave after the remote intervention of his friend/Catholic priest/cellist Stephen Weidner. In fact the white-light and instruction ritual given to him by Weidner that he uses after this incident is the same process that I use after every paranormal investigation.

Richard’s work emphasises the importance of team work and the paranormal community, prompting interesting theories of links between locations and between his friends, whose list includes Johnny Houser, Brad and Barry Klinges and Katrina Weidman. He also introduced me to the concept of talking to ghosts, being respectful but there also being a place for confrontation when the circumstances demand it.

The investigative takeaway from his expansive works was the use of the Estes Method, and I was very excited to have the opportunity to try out this technique myself at East Gate House (see Are You Brave Enough?).

Estep through his accounts takes you on his journey as his friend, providing explanation and showing the passion for the paranormal in way that is addictive (and I have reread several of his books to get the fix.) His stance of believing in something, but what that something is is what drives his quest for answers.

I would definitely recommend any of his books, as once you have read one you will want to read them all. Richard Estep is one of my paranormal heroes and after a few chapters I am sure he will become one of yours.

KU has also opened my library to the works of renowned ghost hunter and parapsychologist Peter Underwood, who has been one of my go to sources of inspiration in writing this blog, especially his Ghosts of Kent which I would add to my must read list for anyone investigating in the South East. We will look at his work further in the future, in particular surrounding the mystery that is Borley Rectory.

Credit: William C. Grave

Skulking around some of the Facebook groups that I am member of I discovered The Lady in the Bay Window by William C. Grave, and a quick search of KU found me adding it to my reading list. This true story of a haunted home in Sheffield is absolutely captivating as Grave gives his account of his first brick and mortar purchase and the events that unfold over his time as occupier.

The profits from this work from the heart are being donated to Cavendish Cancer Care in memoriam of the author’s mum, so each swipe of the page (and the story compels you to do so) not only will satisfy your curiosity but also help support those in need of hope and comfort in facing the challenge of dealing with cancer.

William’s story starts in 2004, when having passed his apprenticeship at a car dealer, he and his fiancé decided to buy a house, their first home together. They found a property in Charnock, Sheffield and it is not long before our titular character appears.

I won’t spoil the next 18 years of accounts, but will say I could not put it down, so place this one on your TBR (To Be Read) shelf, get comfortable and enjoy every one of the 25 chapters that will be spilling from your fingertips (and that is not including the two investigations at the end).

Paranormal investigation can be an expensive enterprise. Equipment, ghost hunts and KU subscriptions cost money (and sometimes a lot of money). So how can we save a few pennies when it comes to our research and in particular books?

The once great free resource, the local library, has been eroded by the expansion of the internet (and by many councils turning them into community hubs). Once dusty and full of books, where you would have to leaf through index cards or be able to translate the Dewey Decimal System to find the right book for the job – the shelves have been replaced with desktop computers, and the locating system is also now digital.

The paranormal is a very niche subject for a Community Hub, I mean if you want a Dilly Court or Colin Dexter the few shelves that remain groan under their weight, but not so for ghosts. There is no roped off restricted section in these open planned spaces. So how do we access the spooky? The simple solution is Libby. This app contains libraries across the UK, all you need to do is sign up and at your finger tips you have access to 1000’s of books, magazines and even audio books. Searching for the right one can be tricky for just general searches but if you have a target in mind then the world is your lobster.

Through Libby I have been able to access the Fortean Times back catalogue, as well as fairly expensive local ghost books such as Haunted Rochester and Haunted Chatham by Neil Arnold, which have proved very useful in researching locations I have investigated (without the £9.99 price tag).

Although another electronic resource, it does mean that you are not having to hide the cover in a newspaper when out in public, most local library services still have some books that you can order for collection if they don’t have them on their shelves.

There is nothing like the feel of bound pages in your hand, especially in the paranormal investigator’s world where nothing is really tangible. Bookshops, and there are some really good ones that specialise in the weirder side of life, are our final stop on this research voyage.

New books are expensive, and unless you get a good deal on a new copy can really eat into your budget. Second hand books on the other hand can be a fraction of the price, and you can find some really interesting ones.

Credit: SJP

There is nothing better, in the little spare time I have, than going with Mrs J to a charity shop (or ten) and scouring the shelves for that tiny nugget of gold. I have managed to get some amazing bargains including Grant & Jane Soloman’s The Scole Exeriment and several Peter Ackroyd’s for only a few quid. The best bit is that the money you hand over goes to some really good causes and so not only do you leave the shop clutching your bag of goodies but also with a sense of doing something good.

The nice thing about a second hand book is finding the title page with some form of inscription. That the book had a life before you, and will continue to have a life when you become the subject of one of your own. Sometimes you may even find that the book has personally passed the authors hand leaving their signature for all eternity among the typed words from their brain.

Charity shops, however have become a bit more switched on to how valuable some of their donations can be and have moved their retailing from the musty, damp smelling shops (they all smell the same – except that one that just smelt of death) to the impersonal global retail space of Ebay.

I am not adverse to a little competition in trying to bag a bargain, and there is nothing like the sense of anticipation after you generate a random number in an effort to outbid your competitors. Finding a signed copy of an Estep book among the listings for a charity auction I was over the moon when  the email came through that I had won, and bagged the signature of one of my heroes.

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There are many online second hand book shops, and one of my go to is World of Books (WOB). They usually have deals (and I can usually sneak one of my own choices into Mrs J’s order), but they also sell through Ebay and often at much cheaper prices than their website. Again you might get a nice little surprise as I did when Poltergeist Parallels and Contagion by Darren W. Ritson arrived signed by the man himself.   

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So happy hunting, there is plenty out there. Research and knowledge are an important part of investigation so grab a book or an app and learn something new today.

If you would like to support William C. Grave then you can find his #1 Best Seller in Paranormal Activities here.

Red Light Spells Anger

The concept of investigating the same location several times has always interested me. Does the season, temperature or the people you are with influence the activity (or lack thereof) you experience. Will other spirits come forward to impart their story or are the same figures going to reappear time after time, bored of the same questions and requests of their time and energy. Having gained more knowledge of paranormal investigation the opportunity to return to the Alex Centre in Faversham was one I could not turn down and having booked my ticket it was not long before I was travelling down the M2 to try and answer my questions.

Credit: SJP

Crossing the threshold of the Alex Centre the memory of the tell-tale bong of my car telling me it was 4 degrees melted away as I was firstly embraced by the heat from inside and then pulled into a hug with my host for the evening, Ghostly Encounters’ Keith.

Guests old and new were greeted to a chorus of ‘happy new year’ as we all found a seat within the waiting area as the team finished their set up (and dinners). “Where do I recognise you from?” Came a question from a lady sat opposite me, and I soon moved over to where she and her friend were sat recounting our experiences from Maidstone Museum (see T’was the Investigation Before Christmas) and moved onto a discussion of how good an evening’s investigation was depended on how the other guests behaved.

Recounting her experience of know-it-all-wanna-be psychics being loud and obnoxious to resolute sceptics who wouldn’t get involved (or show any interest in what was going on even if a full-bodied spectral apparition came up and slapped them in the face) causing frustration we agreed that what you put into an investigation is what you get out of it. Which posed the question of why would you spend your time and money attending something that you would not enjoy (or deliberate try to ruin the experience for other)?

We almost reached the conclusion that investigations were better with like-minded involved guests when our conversation was halted as Keith provided his usual warm and engaging welcome, explanation of kit and a protection circle. On my previous investigation at the Alex the circle was conducted in the main hall, however Keith had a theory that using this space for the spell may be the reason for the limited activity experienced on previous efforts. After the liberal salting of the area, the last “so mote it be” uttered into the space, hands parted and the big group split into two.

You may remember the defective cat balls from my last experience (if you don’t then check out Ghostly Encounter(s)), and the first session of the group I had been placed in (Second one to be called but assuredly the best) set off towards the first floor and yoga studios that we had looked at then. After the short climb up the main staircase, we found our position, laying out a Rem-pod, cat balls and a K-II meter.

Credit: SJP

The traditional calling out was met by silence so when volunteers were called for I was soon stood in a doorway feeling the same lack of anything as I did when sat by the stair guard. Swapping my station with another volunteer and crossing the carpeted landing to a door opposite we both stated that one side of our bodies felt significantly colder than the other. My left, her right (both facing the window) so a laser thermometer was deployed and recorded that my left elbow was 1 degree colder than my right. To identify any normal reason for the slight temperature difference I looked towards the window. Putting the palm of my hand to just touching the glass I drew it back less than an inch where the radiator below was keeping a curtain of warm air. Feeling for any drafts and finding none, the temperature difference was an interesting find but not conclusive.

Returning to my original spot, at the head of the corridor to the yoga studio, a woman sat on a chair was reporting a temperature difference of 4 degrees from her right foot to her left foot. Again her right foot was closer to a window, but this had the same radiator set up as I had previously looked at.

Credit: SJP

It appeared the spirits were content to react with heat (or lack thereof) rather than any of our equipment, that is until we set off to the yoga studio. When halfway down the corridor the walls lit up to the frantic green and orange lights of a K-II meter. This black box, designed to measure levels of Electro-Magnetism in the environment, was happily flashing away as we entered the yoga studio and continued as the cat balls, Rem-pod and Maglite torch were repositioned.

As the K-II was placed on the floor alongside a cat ball it continued to show activity as the second green light continued to flash on and off. The cat balls in contrast remained dark. The meter went back on a tour of the corridor ceasing its activity at the same place it had spiked on its forward journey. There did not appear to be any obvious sources that would have caused the device to behave like it did.

I suggested that we pass it around the circle, that had now formed, to see if there was any change in the activity depending on the holder. As the black box was passed around the lights continued to flash green and orange. On pass 5 the holder received a single solid green light. As they passed it on the lights flashed again, and the next received just the one green light. 2 further passes and the lights flashed happily again until the device entered my hand when I received a solitary green bulb. As I went to pass to my right the LED’s flickered into life again with the prospect of new ownership, but as I drew it back in front of me the lights went out again. I went to pass back to my left, the same illumination of anticipation shone from the device. I assisted its passage to my right and the recipient was greeted with flashing lights.

To test the theory forming that whatever was influencing the device was providing their opinion of the holder, we exchanged places with the person in front of us. The results were the same, those who had flashing lights continued to receive flashing lights. Those who had the solid green indication before received the same response. Until I received the box for the second time. As I held the device in front of me I was met with two bursts, illuminating all of the LED’s, right up to the red. “That looked angry” came one comment and I agreed. If LED’s could display an emotion, anger was what this set would have indicated.

As time was called for an end to this first session and the beginning of a break, I noticed that when the cat balls were picked up they remained dark. I explained to the remaining few what had happened with the cat balls during my last experience in this room and the balls were taken off for testing elsewhere. One had illuminated its last and was to be retired from its investigating career, the other worked perfectly in any other space than the yoga studio. Could it be that the occupant of this space was fed up with cat balls and had killed one and deactivated the other? Either way Keith was ordering some new balls.

The second session took us to the kitchen, the main hall and one of the storerooms. Aside from a cat ball lighting up the kitchen, which was found to have been caused by the knocking of the counter, we received nothing from beyond the veil during this session.

Credit: SJP

In the break that followed the other team reported that their radios were flashing, causing them to resort to the time-tested technique of turning them off and back on again, and then calling IT support as this had not fixed the issue. They had been using a spirit box and on requesting the spirits to communicate through the radio the word “Hello” in a female voice had been clearly heard across the team communicators. A spirit misunderstanding which radio to communicate with or an interfering signal from a baby monitor? The latter is unlikely, the former is definitely probable but either way an interesting phenomenon.

Our third session opened with a spirit board, and having found the perfect height table the board was opened with all of our fingers on the planchette. We appeared to have found connection with a young spirit who gave us his age as 8 who needed some instruction to use the hole in the middle of the planchette to show their answer rather than the pointy end. The idea of a small child manipulating the planchette on tip toe due to the height of the table we were using caused a few laughs and evidently this spirit became frustrated as the pointy end went to goodbye.

As we enquired if there were any other spirits who wanted to communicate the handle of the door was heard to turn and the door popped open. The planchette indicated ‘yes’. The name Sid and age 68 was produced with mutterings around the sitters of Sidney Alexander.

The Alex is named after the last resident to call Gatefield House (as it was originally called) home. Born in Hertford in 1863 and died in 1943 (aged 80) Sidney was a celebrated doctor, (with a GP surgery in the house), holds the title for most consecutive years as the Mayor of Faversham (10) as well as attending the Coronation of King George V as Faversham Baron of the Cinque Ports in 1911.  

Aware that Dr Alexander received the Order of Knight Batchelor in 1920 I asked if Sid would prefer us to call him ‘Sir’, ‘yes’ came the answer but the planchette continued to move. First Z then to O, ‘Zozo’ was whispered by the sitter to my right. Taking control and in my most authoritative voice I commanded the spirit to step away from the board, explaining that regardless of whether this was a bit of fun for them I was not interested in going down this road. On my command the planchette slid to ‘goodbye’ and I removed it from the board.

There were a few quizzical looks from the other sitters and so I explained what the legend of Zozo was and from where it came about (for more see T’was the Investigation Before Christmas). As the board was closed we headed through the now opened door (thank you Zozo) and congregated in the adjoining room (coincidentally called the Sidney Room). As we were getting settled one of the other guests thanked me for closing the board when I did and another quickly moved away from the open door to this room as it made her feel uncomfortable.

Calling out in this room the spirits were asked to tap the walls, with an example of 4 knocks. 4 knocks came in reply but this was from the spirit influenced living who had decided that it would be amusing to knock over a sign outside. Such are the issues with investigations in populated areas. A flash of light was seen in the fireplace by one of the team, but no one else had seen it.

As we descended to the subterranean level the temperature increased, unsurprisingly as this is where the boiler is. The basement has one main area, lined with electricity meters, off which two doors lead; one to the boiler room and the other to the cell. On my last visit I did not manage to go into the cell but was keen to experience this area on this occasion. Three of us entered, torches off as the door closed. As our eyes became accustomed to the void, we discovered the dying glow of fairy lights just peeking through their clear plastic coffins alongside the Christmas decorations in readiness to rise again in 11 months’ time. Nothing coming forward we swapped out as a K-II began lighting up in the main space.

The questions went around the room. punctuated by the slow flashing lights of the box. I asked if they wanted someone to go into the cell and the lights flickered in a response that I took as a yes. Careful not to kick the cat ball that had been placed on the floor I entered the cell and closed the door behind me. I asked out into the pitch black but received nothing back.

I heard the sound of excitement from the group on the other side of the door, closely followed by a groan of disappointment. Later I found out that the EMF light show had been caused by the proximity to the electric supply rather than the supernatural.

Credit: SJP

I left the cell and joined the group in a table tipping experiment. The table did not tip, did not shake nor did it vibrate – it was a very good table in that regard. The EMF placed on the surface did not even flicker in recognition but had spiked before it had been put down. Time almost at an end for this session we explored the boiler room and aside discussion of a sump pump (and how full it was) there was nothing paranormal experienced.

We ascended for a quick pee stop and were then en route to the top of the building, into the attic. The loft space is divided into several rooms and most of the group went into each in pairs. The group having an odd number left me on my own. Finding a room, and then finding it feeling a bit flat I moved to the end room, where Keith opened an access panel pointing out the rafters of the original roof.   

Credit: SJP

Spending a bit of time on my own in the room I noticed something appear to dart under the desk. Taking a couple of photos I found nothing and was soon joined by a couple of others carrying a flashing EMF meter. The meter had not stopped going off since they turned it on. A quick off and on reset and it continued behaving in the same way – the same way it had behaved in the yoga studio earlier. Handed the little black box I expected like last time for the lights to drop off to the stoic solid green LED but it continued to flash as if its life depended on it. The others left to attempt a scrying session and so I explored the space like Egon wielding a P.K.E meter.

Wandering into the corridor I found myself in the room that during my last investigation here whatever dwelt within was very possessive of its chairs. The EMF continued flashing as I took a seat and asked for some indication that it would want me to move. The angry red LEDs flashed several times and taking this as a sign (my backside leaving the chair quite rapidly) I asked the meter where I should go next. The next door along the corridor was open and the wall was splattered with a laser grid. Placing the EMF on a table, I sat down to get a feel for this space.

I felt a deep sadness and must have got lost in my thoughts as movement from the door made me jump to alertness. I thought I was on my own but I was now joined by the two that had gifted me the flashing box (the door opening having a normal rather than paranormal explanation). After discovering that this room had formed part of the original Magistrates’ Court we set off to find a solution to the disco lights in my hand.

Entering the corridor the flashes of red directed me back to my original room. On entering I was guided to the open access panel. I started to close the panel and the lights became less intense. Reopening the door the same ferocious light show returned. I repeated this a couple of times with the same results happening on each. I asked for the other portal to the loft space to be shut and with that confirmed shut my door and locked it. The black box greeted me with a single solid green indicator. The spirit had returned to its gloom and no longer wished for any further involvement from me.

As we reconvened at the head of the stairs, we began our descent. Down both flights of servant access to the ground floor. Reports of a musty, mothball like smell were made by some of the group, but I couldn’t smell anything like what was described.  The feeling of sadness still washed over me as both groups reunited to close the protection spell that had been performed several hours before. As we broke hands the sadness lifted and a feeling of tiredness replaced its hold. After a final hug from Keith, I left The Alex to be met by the cold wind and the calls of the inebriated as I made the short walk back to my car as home and my bed were calling.

Credit: SJP

Bloody Hell Danny!

“I know what I saw,” the haunting refrain that greats anyone visiting a garden shed in Walthamstow belonging to Danny Robins. The iconic theme music, by Lanterns on the Lake, signifies one thing – Uncanny.

Credit: BBC

In case you have been living under a rock for the past couple of years, you may be unaware of the phenomenon that is Uncanny. Starting out as a podcast with a simple premise, provide a real-life story and then have experts from Team Believer and Team Sceptic review the evidence, it has evolved over 3 series, a book, a TV series and even a sell-out stage production. Critically acclaimed and housed by the BBC, it is also the starting point for my journey into paranormal investigation. But where did it start?

If you have read or listened to any of Danny’s interviews, he has always had an interest in the paranormal starting from a young age but considers himself a sceptic who wants to believe. He is a master of storytelling and that is clear through the dramatic portrayals of The Battersea Poltergeist and the events at Heol Fanog in The Witch Farm. If you haven’t listened to these audio delights, I won’t give any spoilers but each is like an episode of Uncanny on steroids, with dramatic presentation of the story, with each section of the hauntings examined from a believer and a sceptical standpoint.

The real-life accounts that make Uncanny what it is was not Danny’s first foray into this field. Back in 2017 Haunted asked the question “Do ghost exist? If not, why do we see them?” Over 10 episodes accounts of racist, racing and racy ghosts (as well as many others) are subjected to forensic examination through Danny’s coordination of experts and eyewitnesses. Danny’s interest in real experiences and a simple social media appeal led us all to Belfast, Case 1 and in particular room 611 of Adambrook Hall - giving birth to the catch phrase “Bloody Hell, Ken!” (and Samuel James Paranormal.)

The eyewitness accounts cover all the things that go bump in the night, from poltergeist activity and ominous shadows to cow-moving aliens, life-saving angels and the possibility of time-slips. They are all given the same level of scrutiny from the experts and then turned over to us, the great unwashed, to put our two-pennies into the debate with regular catch ups and updates along the way.

The Uncanny Community takes great delight in questioning and offering their own theories or explanations into the subject’s story. This debate is usually well mannered, supportive and doesn’t resort to the name-calling or toy-throwing that other parts of the paranormal community attract. One of my favourite debates comes from Series 2. Case 12: The Ghost That Followed Us Home. The account from Carly is that a child ghost has hitchhiked back to the UK after her family had attended a wedding in France. Skeletal footprints photographed by builders on a chair could have been caused by dust movement or this phantom child, but what was most interesting was the appearance of photographs too disturbing for social media (and requiring a visit to the episodes website).

Credit: BBC

The images appeared in Carly’s cameral roll, and as you can see appear to show a dark face, with tousled hair in the bottom left corner. But technology (and children) could be the explanation for this photogenic apparition. My preferred theory relies on several devices being connected to an Iphone (other phone brands are available) account, which would then save images taken from other devices in one master camera roll. One of these connected devices would then be given to a child (possibly in the back of a car) who would find the settings, inverting the image captured as it would look cool and then take a burst of images – creating the image below.

Credit: SJP

As you can see there are similarities, and depending on vehicle and phone models would depend on the ease of creating the image, and then the subsequent sharing. High strangeness indeed but not necessarily paranormal and this critical thinking approach is what makes Uncanny, in my opinion, stand out from other paranormal documentaries.

It is very easy to simply accept, to follow a belief that ghosts exists and stay happy in your own little bubble of knowledge. To challenge, debunk or look at other possible causes is more difficult, but opens up the world of possibilities from hallucinogenic mould spores to infrasound. This is the critical viewpoint experts like Chris French and Ciaran O’Keefe provide. Counterpoint to Team Sceptic are the experts from Team Believer, including Evelyn Hollow, who provide the argument for the supernatural being the explanation based on historical and parapsychological evidence and experience.

Being the thrill seeker that I am, I like to listen to Uncanny whilst out walking in the woods (usually on the night the latest episode drops.) Headphones in and occasionally basked in the light of a full moon. This is my happy place, a chance to listen to Mr Robins and Company present the latest case file. This element was lost with the three TV episodes that screened last year, and prompted another thought – why does the addition of seeing the witness and their nonverbal communication make me more disbelieving of their account?  I’m not sure this opinion was shared with the majority as I think bringing Uncanny to the small screen opened up the community to another audience, and the name Miss Howard would echo around the clustered groups (who were normally stood in the way) when I was out shopping.

One of my lasting memories was the infrasound experiment, where a group of students were taken to a hanger where infrasound was played in a directed pattern. The spookometer (printed images of ghosts) readings followed this pattern which would suggest sound frequency can influence perceptions of hauntings.

I enjoyed that the format was not lost in the translation from ears to eyes, and it was interesting to read a post from one of the subjects that her account went deeper and many details were lost in the edit. Hopefully this will provide an opportunity for some case updates in the near future.

It is not just the cases that drew me into the world of Uncanny as through his investigations Danny draws his audience into his own life. We are given a rare opportunity to understand how paranormal research can affect our nearest and dearest. Danny using his own house (and having to put an expenses claim for new speakers) to test theories of noise transference in The Battersea Poltergeist, not only involves his wife, Eva, but also his neighbours. Several episodes open with the sounds of his children playing or talking about the latest research intermingled with his own thoughts of how much information he can share without disrupting bedtime and inducing nightmares.

Credit: SJP

Danny further draws us into his life in his book, Into the Uncanny. He presents his fears in such an honest way that you are with him on that treacherous path surrounded by porgs. His dogged determination for answers, starting out very much as a sceptic but eventually taking us to Rome, slowly unfolding the evidence and stories of all those he meets almost to the point where he has switched teams (or at least a middle ground Team Unsure).

This autobiographical adventure is used as a skeleton for probably the greatest risk Uncanny has taken – Uncanny: I Know What I Saw. This sell out tour, that I was lucky to see in Canterbury’s Marlowe Theatre (Bloody Hell Ken(t)) brings Danny’s shed on the road, spectacularly framed with tree cut-outs and illuminated ‘Uncanny’ sign. The slow drifting mist of a smoke machine accompanied by the low, atmospheric music set the scene with this curtain warmer. As the houselights extinguished his mere presence on stage, shrouded in his trademark red duffle coat, was met with thunderous applause and cheers from the audience who were made up of believers, sceptics and those that had been (reluctantly) dragged along.

Credit: SJP

Danny’s infectious enthusiasm was palpable as he invited us to his office like an excited imp as he opened the casebook, a local story – The Post-It Note Poltergeist. The background was presented that our witness owned a plumbing shop in Strood, and soon became the occupant of the flat upstairs. Our witnesses’ life was joined by a whirlwind romance and with a baby soon on the way, the couple decided to take a romantic getaway before the sleepless nights and full nappies would become the norm. Set around Valentine’s day the romance was strong within this couple as our witnesses better half had created a heart-shaped mural of love out of Post-It notes, each adorned with a message of amore. This cardioid of love had been recreated as part of the set design.

As Danny, acting the return of our witness from their weekend away, returned to the stage the Post-it notes fell to floor. We were told that the notes were torn and scrunched up, scattered around the flat, but more was to come as the kettle had been switched on and was left to boil dry. The tension had been built but it was time to meet the experts, for this production Team Sceptic was represented by Chris French and Team Believer by Evelyn Hollow. As the pros and cons of this haunting were discussed, Danny opened the conversation to the seated community in front of him.

Uncanny, much like Lego has an age range of 9-99. A brave 9 (“actually I’m 10”) year old, sat with her family in the gods, was given the microphone and proudly declared that despite Chris’ opening arguments what had occurred must have been a ghost (what other reason was there?). The chuckle of appreciation for the candidness of the child was replaced by a round of applause which was met by the angelic beam from her brave face.

The experts retired and soon we back into the case; noises, footsteps and the increasing danger that someone or something wanted to harm this couple. Knives came into the play as they were removed from the drawers and placed in a circle, the stage manager gave the que and as if by magic (and to the shocked gasp of many in the audience) a knife appeared, standing on its point as if thrown.

Bought back again, the experts discussed and with house lights raised so was my hand. Danny was walking towards me and I soon had a microphone in my hand. A little star struck, my force ghost mere feet from me, I battled with my fanboyness giving my name and asking whether there could be an element of hallucination, contagion or (having knowledge of the area) something to do with infrasound provided by the busy railway line that ran close by the flat.

My theories prompted acknowledgement from Chris, who said that if Ciaran O’Keefe were here would have jumped on the infrasound argument but he definitely liked the hallucination from mould spores idea. Evelyn, whose thesis concerned contagion and priming appeared to appreciate my input. As I handed the mic back to Danny (my heart thumping in my chest) I felt validated that maybe I did know something about the paranormal and these people who I had been listening to for the past few months agreed with what I had to say.   

The baby’s seat sliding across the stage closed the casefile and the first act and I excitedly text Mrs J to tell her that I had done a thing. Phone back into flight mode I settled back in my seat excitedly awaiting Danny’s return for Case 2.

Dell’s story was much more emotional, but none the less ghostly than the first. Birds flying into windows, the sounds of music blaring and toys operating on their own had all the hallmarks of a generic haunting. But this was more personal. Dell lying in bed was disturbed by the appearance of her neighbour distraught looking for her children, the stuff of gothic literature. Her parents had kept secret from Dell that her neighbour had died in a car crash and they had gone to the hospital on that fateful night to take care of her children until their family could be located. The tension between what Dell experienced and the secret that her parents had kept from her was palpable, only resulting with the parent’s truth being laid bare.

With the revelation of case 2, Danny invited the audience to share their stories where the chilling finds from Tiny Tim’s were laid bare as well as a fantastic account of a phantom elephant parade. Following bows and rapturous applause, the houselights came up, the show had ended. But my night had one more thing in store as I quickly grabbed my things and joined a queue (because I’m British) to get my copy of Into the Uncanny signed and meet my hero.

As the line shifted towards the table where Danny and Evelyn were sat, I felt that grip of excitement around my heart. Taking a few breaths, it was my turn and I walked up to the table where Danny signed my book. He asked me if it was Ok if Evelyn signed it as well and I made a joke that it was actually his book and if he was happy with Evelyn signing it, I definitely was.   

Credit: SJP

They say you should never meet your heroes but that sentiment couldn’t be further from the truth as I stood talking to Danny and Evelyn as if no one else in the world mattered. They were genuinely interested in what I had to say and appreciated that their work had birthed my own.  A few photographs later and I was back outside, my insides warm contrasting against the cold night air. I floated back to my car and was soon on my way home excited to show Mrs J my book (and Team Believer T-shirt)

So do I recommend Uncanny? Absolutely! The presentation of real-life lived experiences and the believer and sceptical responses works no matter the presentation format. The glue that holds it all together is Danny Robins and his ability to tell a story that sucks you in. If you haven’t drank the Kool-aid yet then grab yourself a big glass and settle in – you have a lot to catch up on.

Credit: SJP

Looking Back to Look Forward

Since that innocent question “Have you listened to Uncanny?” My life has exploded into the world of spirits, shadows and entities. I have discovered what a Dybbux Box is, practiced divination, used ghost hunting tech and placed my finger on many planchettes. My bookshelves groan under the weight of books documenting hauntings and real-life accounts (Mrs J has even made a google doc so I can keep track of them). My phone is full of photographs of the amazing locations I have been to, as well as apps to detect the dead and podcasts, oh so many podcasts.  And that’s not even delving into the depths of my ever-growing kit bag where, like the Little Mermaid, I have collected whosits and whatsits galore.

But the first question asked, when I tell people what I do, is always “Have you seen one then?” The answer is always the same, “No, but I have had some interesting experiences.” The same eyebrow raise always greets the disclosure of the use of cat toys.

Credit:SJP

In answer I always recount the experience from The Alex in Faversham (see Ghostly Encounter(s)), when the group had thinned out leaving half a dozen of us sat in the yoga studio. This was my second venture out into the field and I had just downloaded my first paranormal app, Ghost Hunting Tools.  We were sat, dotted around the studio, after witnessing a cat ball visibly moving on its own. We all had some form of word producing app running and one of the cat balls was lighting up in response to our questions. The other wasn’t and the words coming from the different apps were all of the same vein indicating that whatever was trying to comply with our request to light it up, simply couldn’t because the ball had somehow been turned off.

The coincidence of all these different apps producing similar words that all made sense in the context of the experiment we were conducting was the most fascinating part of this encounter. I still remember the feeling of excitement when I picked the ball up and realised that even if it was thrown across the room it still couldn’t do what we asked. I am still sceptical of mobile phone apps for ghost hunting as they can use their programming and the microphone to manipulate the readings to suit the questions being asked. But still this was an amazing event early on in my fieldwork.

The conversation after I tell the cat ball story usually continues with “I couldn’t do that, I’d be too scared/creeped out/nervous (delete as applicable),” or “Are you not scared?” Honestly, fear had never really entered into any of my thoughts from any of the investigations that I had been on.  The adrenaline buzz of stuff happening has always been the draw. I am quite happy being in the dark, in cupboards or passageways on my own appearing to talk to myself. Being singled out with the crossing of rods by John Sage at Chillingham Castle (Chill(ingham) Down My Spine) did not make me scared, uncomfortable maybe, but not fearful.  But as I think back maybe the time that did induce fear was when I was with a group of people on the top floor of East Gate House in Rochester (Are You Brave Enough?).

Credit: SJP

A new technique was learnt that evening, as well as the lesson of being careful what you wish for. As we stood holding hands in a circle, overseen by a model of Charles Dickens, calling out to the ether to raise our arms in response to our questions. The options provided to the spirit world did not seem to elicit the response desired by a member of the group, who opened up the menu to include dropping one of us to their knees.

This was the preferred choice for the invisible phantom who wished to communicate with us. As suddenly both my patellas were striking the hard wooden floorboards of the attic. Fear is therefore an obvious response. What could drop me so forcefully? And what else could it do?

I have read about the Mackenzie Poltergeist who dwells in the aptly named Black Mausoleum in Edinburgh’s Greyfriars Cemetery. Famous in life, George Mackenzie earned the nickname Bloody Mackenzie due to his treatment of Presbyterian Covenanters in 1679, and it appears in death his character has not changed. Reports of visitors to his domain receiving scratches and burns are frequent – so does spirit have the power to cause actual harm to the living? If so did I get off lightly with a couple of bruised kneecaps?

But is it fear that drives many to hunt ghosts? YouTube videos and TV programmes ramp up excitement using sexy words and phrases like Demon, Dare or This ghost tried to kill us. All of them guarantee activity at the top end of the scale (albeit many of them are accused of fakery).

Advertising investigations with a challenge of bravery may draw in the crowds, but does this attract the right people to the event? I have been to some amazing investigations especially my time at Fort Horsted in Chatham with Ghostly Encounters. What I loved about this evening was how small the group was (only 4 of us) and the feeling of being part of the team this gave me. Aside from the 22:30 issues (see Encounter(s) at the Fort) this experience instilled in me the confidence to ask questions, report my experiences and really get involved and share my knowledge as we investigated the space together.

Drawing large numbers of people who only want to see things flying around the room or full-bodied spectral apparitions does not necessarily make for a great experience when all you get is a couple of blinking lights or taps on the wall. Spirits require energy, and if the group you are with are not generating any then you wont get any reaction. Its good to have a mixture of sceptics and believers as that brings balance, but the departed are not our performing monkeys, there to put on a show for a bit of social media clout.

My biggest takeaway from field investigations if that you have to get involved. Why come if you are not going to participate? What all of the events I have attended promise is that it is your investigation. If you don’t ask questions or don’t take part you wont discover anything – and this leaves that flat, bitter feeling when everything is packed up and you are on your way home (obviously instructing any wannabe hitchhikers to remain put).

So what is next? What do I want to achieve out of the coming year?

Firstly I want to continue in the spirit of paraunity. To give back more than I take and highlight the amazing work that is out there. From podcasts and books to those just putting themselves out there with their personal experiences and photos, we all play a part in this paranormal community.

Research is a second priority. To improve my knowledge and understand the many viewpoints of what happens after you die. To learn from other investigators techniques and practices to understand their motivations and accounts; how they used their equipment and what evidence they obtained.

Speaking of equipment I want to understand what makes it work, so want to build some of my own including a rem-pod and SLS camera and test them against what is already out there. To test them I am going to need some locations, some new and some that I have already been to so that I can tell the stories of those that have gone before me, to keep their memories alive even in death.

As New Year resolutions go they are probably a big challenge, so stay tuned as I continue on my journey into the paranormal - you never know what or who might be discovered.

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).

Credit: SJP

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.

Credit: SJP

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.