February 2008:
Okay, let me nail my colours firmly to the mast. I’m a born and bred Geordie and I support Newcastle United. If either of these two things offends you, then move on to the next article and we’ll pretend we never met. Oh, I’m only joking, of course, but even the paranormal should have room for a little humour, right? But not too much. It’s a serious business. The truth is that people get genuinely frightened by things that they do not understand and/or cannot control. Not knowing exactly what ghosts, poltergeists and related phenomena are only serves to add to their allure. After all, what would be the fun in exploring uncharted realms of human knowledge if they weren’t really uncharted at all? Imagine a TV documentary called something like, Exploring the Unknown. That would get the old Fortean juices surging, right? But what if the programme was re-titled, Exploring the Known? It doesn’t exactly set you alight, does it?. In WraithRealm I’ll be bringing readers some of the more arcane ghost, poltergeist and haunting stories I’ve investigated during my nigh-on four decades of paranormal research. I truly hope you enjoy them. Send me your own tales, and I’ll be happy to write them up as space allows.
Some years ago, the editor of a newspaper I column for asked me to visit a lady who believed her house was haunted. She’d just moved in to the dwelling with her daughter after splitting up from her husband. She admitted to me that she was bitter, and going through what she called her, “I don’t need a man!” phase. Strangely, it was this “phase” of hers that brought the paranormal ambience of her new house to her attention. Not long after moving in, she decided to put a shelf up in the kitchen. She unpacked her newly-purchased power drill and attempted to drill some holes in the wall. At some point she put the drill down and had a sip of coffee. Then, as you would predict, she turned around to pick up the drill and resume work. But the drill was no longer there. She searched high and low for it, but to no avail. Eventually she concluded that her daughter had taken it for a prank, even though the girl protested vigorously that she was innocent. The next day the drill was found at the top of the garden. Then other strange things began to happen. Keys would go missing, rapping noises would occur spontaneously without observable cause and the TV would switch channels without warning. When I arrived at the house the woman was still unpacking, and the lounge was filled with boxes. I sat on a sofa in the window recess, she sat on a smaller sofa opposite. In between us was a coffee table. At one end was a silver rose bowl filled with plastic flowers; at the other was a cut glass ashtray. Suddenly, the ashtray began to move. Slowly but steadily it slid along the table to the end until half of it was hanging in space. It rocked gently back and forth for a moment before rising into the air. Then, as if guided by unseen hands, it gently lowered to the floor. “Look! See! I’m not mad! I told you, didn’t I? See I’m not mad!”
Of course, never for a moment had I considered the possibility that the woman was delusional. The problem was that I was the first eye-witness other than herself who had genuinely seen something inexplicable happen in her new home. She was glad I’d seen it, and so was I, although for markedly different reasons.
Some time later I was giving a lecture when a psychologist in the audience asked me if I’d ever seen anything paranormal with my own eyes. I related this tale to him, and he got quite shirty with me. He said that what I’d told him couldn’t possibly be true. I asked him if he was calling me a liar, and he said no, he was simply saying that what I was saying wasn’t true. Of course, such a reaction says something far more interesting about his own thought processes than mine, and I had to be blunt with him. I don’t like offending people, but there is a line that has to be drawn somewhere. If a sceptic essentially calls me a liar, regardless of the gloss they put on their own words, then I reserve the right to defend myself. When a sceptic interprets the data differently, or merely disagrees with you regarding the nature of your experience, then that’s fine. When they then go on to assassinate your character it’s a different matter altogether and the gloves should come off. It turned out that the lady in question had a poltergeist infestation which cleared itself up, as most do, in a few short weeks. Cynics who deny that there was ever anything there in the first place are not only insulting her intelligence – and mine – but also compounding her palpable stress. The truth is that many sceptics are not true sceptics at all, but committed disbelievers. They have a need not to believe in the paranormal in the same way that many believers have a need to believe. When I go on an investigation I try to keep an open mind. If I conclude that something truly paranormal is going on its not because I need to believe it, its because that’s what the evidence has led me to conclude. The bottom line is that there are things that happen in our universe that are exceedingly strange and at some juncture we’re all going to have to accept that we simply don’t know everything. Do ghosts exist? Of course they do. I may not fully understand their nature, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t there. I don’t understand how my digital camera works, but I wouldn’t deny its existence.
Maybe I’m just getting feisty as I approach old age, but the sceptics will just have to live with that I’m afraid!
March 2008:
Some years ago I was asked to investigate a house that was allegedly haunted. The owner was an elderly woman who had resided in the property for a number of years – to be honest, more than she cared to recall. Widowed about five years previously, she sometimes felt lonely despite receiving regular visits from her family. Then, for no apparent reason, she became aware of “a presence” in her home that made her feel uncomfortable. “I wanted company”, she told me, “but not this kind”. At first the signs were slight; a sensation would sometimes creep over her that someone was standing behind her shoulder. She’d turn, of course, but there’d be no one there. Then there were the smells; faint hints of lavender or tobacco smoke, or – bizarrely – roast lamb. Despite her best efforts she could never find a rational explanation for them. The first time Mary saw “the ghost” was in 1999. She was washing her face in the bathroom, and when she turned around to get the towel she was terrified to see a young woman standing no more than a foot in front of her. “She was just standing there, staring. I let out a yell and she just disappeared. I honestly thought I’d been burgled till she vanished. Then I thought to myself that it must have been a ghost”. Mary described the girl as being roughly the same height as herself – about 5 foot 6 inches. According to Mary she had “dirty blonde hair” which looked very greasy, and a pale complexion with some spots. “She looked run down”. “She was dressed in old clothes that looked as if they were from the 1920s. Her dress was blue and pink, but it was too big for her. She also had a pale brown cardigan on which had seen better days. She didn’t look very happy; not angry, exactly, but not far from it. She was sort of glowering”. The day after this incident, Mary’s son Geoff got in touch with me and asked for my assistance.
On my initial visit, I could detect nothing untoward in the house. Most times, when entering haunted premises, I get a tight feeling in my gut as I pass over the threshold. Not on this occasion, though; I detected absolutely nothing amiss. Mary scuttled off into the kitchen to make some tea. I simply sat on the sofa and looked around. The house was immaculately clean, cheerfully decorated and filled with family memoirs. I asked Mary if I could wander around her home just to get the feel of the place, and she immediately agreed. I wondered up the narrow stairwell and made my first port of call the bathroom where the “ghost” had first appeared. At first nothing seemed amiss, but after a few seconds I picked up the distinct smell of lavender. I glanced around to see if I could see any soaps or other items that were lavender-scented, but there weren’t any. As I turned to leave the bathroom I was startled by a loud cracking noise that seemed to come from the vicinity of some shelves. Above the bath. When I looked down, in the bottom of the bath lay a bottle of hair shampoo. I was pretty certain that it hadn’t been there when I first entered. I photographed the bottle in situ. A perusal of the bedrooms precipitated nothing, so I walked back downstairs. As I finished my tea I asked Mary if she’d ever had any problems with objects moving around in her house. “Just once”, she replied. I heard a noise upstairs, and when I looked in the bathroom some things had fallen into the bath from the shelf on the wall”.
I hadn’t told Mary about the shampoo bottle, so I was intrigued.
“What did you find in the bath?”
“Two things”, she replied. “A bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo”.
I also asked Mary if she had any idea who the phantom woman she had encountered might be.
“Not really…although the woman next door said that she had a similar experience in her bathroom once. She might know”.
Mary invited the neighbour in to meet me, and that’s when things got really interesting.
“My mother told me that these houses were built on the site of a Victorian workhouse. I’ve often wondered if the ghost is of one of the women who lived there”. When Carol described the ghost that she’d seen – also in the bathroom – her description matched that given by Mary almost exactly.
On a hunch, I wandered back up the stairs and paid another visit to the bathroom. There, on the floor, was a cellophane wrapper from a bar of soap. As I knew that neither Mary or her neighbour had been up the stairs, it was obvious that something decidedly odd was going on. I took another photograph, and quietly asked the “ghost” to stop bothering the householder as she was finding her impromptu visits distressing. To my knowledge, she has never returned. The identity of the wraith in Mary’s house remains a mystery, as does her fascination with soap and shampoo. Perhaps they were luxuries denied to her when she lived in the workhouse – if she ever did.
April 2008:
I hear a lot of criticism about “the media” in paranormal research circles, and it seems that some investigators take a positive delight in bashing TV, radio and the papers in the way that the media – it has to be said – sometimes bashes us. But there are always two sides to every story, as they say. Over the years I’ve interviewed legendary figures like Uri Geller, Timothy Good, Derek Acorah and Colin Fry. All of them, I’m sure, have had negative experiences with journalists who just love to stick the knife in. I’ve been the victim of inaccurate (and sometimes libellous) reporting over the years myself, and it’s not pleasant. However, we need to remember that if it wasn’t for the media the world of paranormal investigation simply wouldn’t exist. How many people would know about the Enfield Poltergeist if they hadn’t read about it or saw it on TV?. How many people would be fascinated by the UFO phenomenon if they hadn’t read books about it or watched the massive array of videos posted on YouTube? The truth is that the media, in all their sundry forms, keep paranormal research alive. When I first took an interest in UFOs, back in the early 70s, there was no Internet. Sightings were written up in poorly photocopied newsletters sent by snail-mail to members of a small number of societies that specialised in the subject. If you had some money, you could subscribe to Flying Saucer Review, and if you were really creative you could pick up battered paperbacks by Donald Keyhoe and Charles Berlitz in charity stores. It’s a different world now. I hate to say it, but sometimes paranormal researchers are the authors of their own misfortune. There’s nothing a cynical reporter likes better than to hear someone claim that the orb they photographed in a pub is really the disembodied spirit of President John Kennedy, or that Elvis isn’t really dead but was abducted by aliens. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but if you spout opinions like this then you can expect to be criticised, rightly or wrongly. When we go about our business – and it’s a very strange business – we need to conduct ourselves as professionally as possible. Some media people are great to work with. Presenters like Mike Elliott, and Jonathan Miles and Mike Parr from the BBC are terrific. Whether or not they share your opinions, they always treat you with respect. Others just see your presence as an opportunity to engage in a piece of piss-taking – and they can be very good at it. A lot depends on the sort of paranormal phenomenon you’re interested in. UFOs can gain a bit of airtime, providing you have a good photo or piece of footage to supply. Psychic phenomena, such as telekinesis, may also be treated with respect if you find the right journalist. Ghosts and hauntings are well- received in magazine format shows dealing with “the unexplained”, but they’re currently not the favourite fodder of news editors, who tend to be a cynical bunch. Some years ago I appeared on the much-loved Psychic Livetime on the late, lamented satellite channel Granada Breeze. The show was hosted by Becky Want and Carl Wilde, who were consummate professionals and even first-timers to TV were made to feel at home before enduring the nerve-wracking experience of going before live cameras. They weren’t averse to the bit of good-natured banter or even gentle teasing, but I never once saw them make anyone look stupid. To any researchers out there who have a great story they want to take to the papers, I’d like to offer a few words of advice. First, work out beforehand what you want to tell them and make a mental note of any details you’d like to keep confidential. If they keep pressing you for information you don’t want to give them, don’t get annoyed – they’re only doing their job. However, firmly but politely stick to your guns. Be very careful about giving out personal details of experients who’ve seen ghosts, UFOs, or whatever. They may be happy to share their experience with you in private, but they probably don’t expect to see it plastered over the front page of the local rag. Check with the experients first before giving out their names, addresses and phone numbers!Secondly, trust no one until you’ve worked with them for a long while. Some journalists will lie their pants off to get a story and promise you anything you ask for. If they make you look like an absolute idiot you can sue them – providing you’ve got ten grand in spare cash floating around to hire your barrister. Some time ago, a dancer in a nightclub claimed to have seen a bright light zooming over her house and told her local paper that she believed it was an alien spacecraft. Two days later, a picture of her appeared in the paper clad in a very revealing bikini. It had been taken by someone in the club. The headline read, “FLYING SAUCY!”. The humiliation and embarrassment nearly ruined her life. On the positive side, the media can be good friends if you handle them correctly. If you belong to a group or research society, get to know a decent local reporter and build up a relationship with them. If you keep feeding them with good stories they’re unlikely to do a hatchet job on you, because they know that if they do you won’t supply them with any more material. Its in their best interests to “keep you sweet”, as they say. If you publish photographs on your website or magazine, BE CAREFUL! I know legions of investigators out there who simply ignore copyright laws as if they didn’t exist. NEVER copy a photograph and reproduce it without the permission of the copyright holder – usually (but not always) the person who took it. Also, don’t assume that the copyright belongs to you if you take the picture in a museum or some other private premises. You may well need the permission of the owners to use the photo. The punishments for infringing copyright can be extremely severe. I’ve lost count of the number of paranormal websites that blithely copy pictures from other sites and post them up without a moment’s thought. Text is also copyrighted, and permission must be gained before quoting. There are some circumstances where you don’t need to get permission, but if you have the slightest doubt, check first! For the record, I’ve had articles plagiarised and reproduced without permission in places as far-flung as
Well, here endeth the sermon for this issue, folks. Just remember – if you’re a paranormal investigator the media can be a great ally, but it can also be a formidable foe.
May 2008:
Most Haunted Realm readers will have seen those wonderful old black-and-white re-runs of The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone on TV. Some may even remember those equally-as-wonderful comic books –also in black-and-white – with epithets such as Creepy Worlds, Weird Tales and Astounding Stories.Back in the 1960s, no self-respecting science fiction story or movie failed to make mention of that mysterious netherworld known as the 4th Dimension. The 4th Dimension was, according to popular wisdom, the home of flying saucers, the repository of fairies and the Happy Hunting Ground of the Loch Ness monster to boot. With all this talk about a 4th Dimension, then, it would make sense at this juncture to ask an obvious question; could such a place exist?
We live in a three-dimensional world. We think of things, and formulate our perspective of them, in terms of width, height and depth. If there is indeed a fourth dimension, then, it is unlikely to be a “place”, but rather another means of quantifying things that we are currently unaware of. Because of this, philosophers now prefer to talk not about “other dimensions”, but rather of “alternate realities” – other worlds which may be parallel to our own, but invisible to us.If such worlds exist, what might they be like? The short answer is that we do not know, because the laws of physics which govern our world may not apply in others. We may find that the 4th Dimension, if it exists, is an alien landscape not unlike those seen on sci-fi ‘B’ movies decades ago. It may be teeming with alien life forms, or, alternatively, a barren wilderness similar to the surface of Mars or Pluto.Over the years there have been thousands of mysterious disappearances recorded. Men, women and children of all ages and backgrounds have, quite literally, disappeared off the face of the earth. Could these people have accidentally wandered through a portal of some kind, a doorway into an ‘alternate reality’? Did this doorway then close, trapping them there forever? There is an old Jewish legend about a man who falls asleep in a cave whilst picking figs. He wakes up and, finding that it is getting dark makes his way home. On his arrival he is astonished to find a stranger living in his house. He protests, only to be told that everyone he knew had died decades previously. It was as if he had been in a state of suspended animation for years, or at least living in a place where the flow of time was slower.In his basket the bewildered man still had branches of fresh figs. This convinced the other man that he was telling the truth, because the fig season had finished months previously.Where had he been all those years? Trapped in another world, a different reality? You tell me. From time to time, a number of people have claimed to visit these other dimensions, returning with fantastic tales beyond the widest stretches of the imagination.But what about other worlds in this universe? Is it possible that portals exist which could allow us to travel to far-flung regions of the galaxy instantaneously? Programmes such as Stargate – oft repeated on Sky – certainly suggest so.And then there’s the matter of Black Holes, those centres of super gravity which suck anything and everything in, before expelling the same material, in rather compressed form, somewhere else.
One theory is that Black Holes could actually be used as short-cuts to take us from one part of the universe to another in the blink of an eye. How on earth we’re supposed to survive the gravitational pressure - which can condense something as big as planet earth to the size of pea – no one seems to have worked out.Despite the logistical difficulties, a number of UFO abductees claim to have visited other planets – other solar systems, even – courtesy of extraterrestrials who have allegedly taken them there, in a flying saucer, when they had an hour or two to spare.But here’s the real problem. Satellite and probe photographs have demonstrated that the bleak terrains of the planets in our solar system are nothing like the way most abductees describe them. The moon, according to one famous 1950s UFO buff, was, at least on its dark side, covered with forests and all manner of strange flora and fauna. One 19th century religious leader even said that the moon was populated by eight foot-tall humans who wore top hats. If true, then Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and others don’t seem to have bumped into them.
Seriously though, we cannot discount the possibility that life does exist on other worlds. Many ancient traditions – such as those of Native Americans – speak of “Sky People” who came from the stars many millennia ago. If they visited us on our home world, then they must have one of their own.Perhaps the most fascinating tales come from those who claim to have visited other worlds in their sleep. One correspondent told me that the same landscape kept appearing every time in her dreams; a hot, dry desert with pale blue sand and a purple-tinged sky.What convinced this lady that she was really travelling to this place in her sleep was the fact that, whenever she had this dream, she would wake up and find grains of sand and dust in her bed and adhering to her nightclothes. Alas, she did not keep these particles for analysis.
If science ever does find a way of travelling to other worlds quickly and easily – an almost impossible task, some would say – the potential would be beyond our imagination.Imagine what it would be like to be the first human to set foot on a planet at the other end of the galaxy, or the first person to dive into an ocean on a world thousands of light years away.We can but wonder. Meanwhile, perhaps we can content ourselves by watching the re-runs of Stargate, Star Trek and even – dare I say it – the wincingly awful re-runs of those old episodes of Dr. Who.
June 2008:
The Hope Pole pub – home of “The Lady in Red”
Someone once said that people aren't frightened by things, but rather by their perception of things. Some time ago, a bus driver from the Go-Ahead company told me a fascinating tale which proves just how true this maxim is. Imagine, if you will, a group of Marines; big, tough, afraid of nothing, right? Well, almost right, but not quite. Sometimes even battle-hardened soldiers can find themselves terrified by the unknown. The driver, a former Marine himself - told me of his chilling experience."There were twelve of us", he said, "which included eight regular Marines and four team leaders who were highly trained and experienced - the sort of person you'd find in the SAS or other 'special forces' outfits."In 1985 these twelve soldiers ended up being sent on a training exercise in the Highlands of Scotland, a place which is beautiful during the day time but not the sort of place you'd like to spend the night alone in out in the wilds. After the Marines had accomplished their daytime objectives they were instructed to make camp for the night in a heavily wooded area. They were miles from any human habitation, and had nothing other than the wind, the trees and each other for company. For a while everything passed peacefully. The soldiers simply sat around swapping stories and jokes. A few puffed on cigarettes, others drank coffee - you get the picture. And then it started. At first it was just a faint rustling noise, as if leaves and bushes were being brushed against. Suspicious that someone may be watching them, the troops fell silent. Their eyes scanned the surrounding trees, but nothing could be seen. After a while they shrugged it off and presumed that the noise had been made by a small animal of some kind. Once again they began to while away the time by chatting. But then the noises started again, only this time they were louder. "It sounded as if some huge creature as careening through the bushes, one minute here, the next minute there. I don't mind admitting we were frightened." The soldiers quietly manoeuvred around in an effort to see who - or what - was stalking them, but just when they thought they had the thing surrounded, "there would be nothing there."The problem, of course, is that the Highlands provide excellent cover for an assailant during the night; inky blackness above and a copious amount of camouflaging shrubbery below. The soldiers edged back into the clearing and waited to see if the invisible enemy would reveal itself, or perhaps make some noises once again. It was at this point that the Marines heard a chilling sound - a strange braying or moaning unlike anything they'd encountered before. Disciplined by years of training, the soldiers sat in groups with their backs to a tree and their rifles ready. If whatever it was made a move towards them, they would see it. Meanwhile, the strange braying grew louder as the invisible stalker continued to thrash around in the undergrowth. At first light the Marines could still hear the weird noises, but now they had the advantage. "The terror that stalks by night" no longer had the darkness to use as a cloak, and the soldiers steadily closed in. Suddenly, one soldier turned and came face to face with the "monster". There, in front of him, stood the most frightening sheep he'd ever came across. Actually, the animal was injured", said the driver. "It had a piece of wood jammed in its mouth and was in real pain. This was why it had been charging around the bushes all night making those unearthly noises. One of the lads grabbed hold of it and removed the wood. It wandered off quite happily after that."
It's possible that the bus driver who told me this story will be reading this, and I hope he realises that many readers won't be able to sleep a wink tonight because of his chilling, true-life story. To be honest, its one of the best I've heard. If he contacts me via The Haunted Realm I'll stand him a pint. He deserves it. The lesson to be learned from this story, methinks, is that mundane events really can seem like paranormal experiences when the circumstances are right. The problem is that many sceptics are all too happy to jump on the bandwagon and rubbish everything alleged to be paranormal to avoid the necessity of answering awkward questions. Its a classic case of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Nowadays reaching the age of 86 is no big deal. However, back in the 1930’s Richard Preston was described as “one of Redcar’s oldest men”. Richard had lived in Redcar from the age of 4, and had many vivid memories of his childhood. Shortly after relocating there with his family, he recalls being taken out by smugglers on their boats as a “mascot”. “I did not know what they were doing”, said Richard, but he would later discover that they had been involved in the illegal importation of perfume, whisky, tobacco and rum. Armed “Preventives” or Excise Men would patrol the beach with pistols and swords, but the smugglers would use a sophisticated signalling system to alert each other to their presence. Based in Skinningrove, the signallers would “flash” their seagoing colleagues when the “Preventives” were around. The smugglers in the boats would then simply wait until they had passed by before offloading their cargo. Once on shore, the booty would be taken to a number of locations including Skelton Castle where it would be buried. Later, when the coast was clear – quite literally – the smugglers would dig up their haul and distribute it to “fences” in York, ‘Stokesley and other places. Of course, with the absence of street lights it paid the smugglers to move the contraband at the dead of night. However, the ne’er-do-wells of Redcar had good reason to be afraid as they went about their business.
Since the turn of the 19th century there had been rumours that one of the main smuggling routes near Redcar had been haunted by a “bargest” or ghost. However, the apparition was no Grey Lady or headless horseman. A number of smugglers had reported having a close encounter with a terrifying creature that, allegedly, had the body of a man but the head of a “strange beast”. Richard Preston recalled those tales well, but added a novel twist. He claimed that the creature was not the enemy of the smugglers but actually their friend. “The bargest went first and actually frightened people off the road”, he recalled, almost acting as a bodyguard to the criminals walking behind. Who or what was this demon of the night? The ghost of a long-dead smuggler who had returned to assist his living colleagues? Redcar’s equivalent of the Yeti or Bigfoot? Or was it simply the product of the over-active imaginations of the smugglers? At the same time, in South Shields, a riverside pub called the Hop Pole,oft frequented by smugglers, was reputedly haunted by a “Lady in Red” who would allegedly gaze out over the Tyne and “point” passing ships with her outstretched hand. Being “pointed” by a ghost was bad enough, but if she followed this up with a blood-curdling scream then the entire crew would be cursed. Ship captains took this seriously, and would often steer their boat to the other side of the river whilst the crew all averted their gaze from the pub, which was called the Hop Pole. Of course, there was no “Lady in Red”. She had been invented by the smugglers to scare people away from the inn; particularly the Excise Men who may discover their contraband. My feeling is that the “Beast of Redcar” was a similar device; an invention of the smugglers to encourage people to stay indoors at night whilst they went about their business. But we can’t be sure, can we? Maybe – just maybe – there really was an otherworldly denizen sneaking around the highways and byways of Redcar, although he, she or it hasn’t been seen for quite a while.In the final analysis, we need to be careful, though. The above two stories illustrate just how easily it is to fool others – or to be fooled ourselves...
