Welcome to Ghost Catcher Isles, chronicling the weird, wonderful and eerie of the isles of Great Britain and the Republic of Ireland. Come with me on my adventures into the strange and paranormal
(Image: Before the Tide Takes Them. Source: Places Remember, N.Higgins, 2026)
I recently had the chance to take a small part in a new audio drama podcast called Places Remember. The first episode, “Before the Tide Takes Them”, takes us to Happisburgh on the Norfolk coast and into the rather dark story of Jonathan Balls, better known as the Happisburgh Poisoner.
Happisburgh has always had a special place in my heart. My mum Sue was born there and spent her early years living in a little cottage in the village with my grandma Jean and my Irish grandad Terry. My great grandma, Nanny Winnie, also lived in Happisburgh and once worked as a barmaid at the Hill House pub. I grew up in a nearby village and have lots of childhood memories of visiting relatives in Happisburgh and playing at Nanny Winnie’s house. She now rests with her second husband Bob in St Mary’s churchyard.
When I think of Happisburgh I think most of all of the beach. It was one of my mum’s favourite places, her “happy place”, and I have many memories of walking there with her. Then there is the wonderful candy-cane red and white lighthouse, standing like a lone sentinel over the village and coastline.
(Image: Handwritten extract from Susan M. Gayfer’s personal notebooks. Source: E.Holohan personal collection 2026)
Sadly it is also a coastline that is gradually disappearing. Coastal erosion has long been part of Happisburgh’s story, which makes the title “Before the Tide Takes Them” feel particularly appropriate. There is something quite poignant about preserving the stories of a place where the landscape itself is being slowly and steadily lost.
My mum loved the paranormal, Forteana, true crime and dark history, and she was fascinated by Happisburgh’s many strange stories. Jonathan Balls was a particular favourite of hers.
The story takes us back to the 1840s, when a disturbing series of deaths among Balls’ family and others in the village eventually raised suspicions of poisoning. Arsenic was discovered, questions began to be asked, and the story became considerably darker.
And then there is Jonathan Balls’ burial. Why, according to local tradition, did he want to be buried with a Bible, a plum cake, a fire iron, coal tongs and handkerchiefs?
I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to listen!
(Image: St Mary’s, Happisburgh. Source: E.Holohan 2025)
My mum always wanted to know more about the case and, for reasons probably best described as dark tourism, was particularly keen to discover exactly where Balls was buried in Happisburgh churchyard. I think she would have been rather excited that I ended up taking part in an audio drama about him. She’d certainly have been grilling me for more information and poring over all the research on the website. And I strongly suspect she’d still be asking me where his grave was so we could go and find it.
So when Nigel told me he was thinking about a new project based around Happisburgh, I really wanted to be involved. I asked for a small role and ended up playing Maria Lambert, one of the gossiping villagers. It seems quite appropriate that my first venture into voice acting involved gossiping about suspicious happenings in a Norfolk village!
Some of the scenes were recorded online with other members of the cast, while for others I recorded my lines separately and sent them in. My husband Ed also got involved by playing Reverend Birch, so it was a first venture into voice acting for both of us. I was slightly nervous about hearing myself in the finished episode, but I was actually quite pleased with how I sounded. Even a little of my original Norfolk accent crept back in. I’m Norfolk Broads born and bred, although these days my accent is fairly neutral most of the time.
The whole cast did a great job, particularly considering that many of us hadn’t done voice acting before. The music and sound effects really bring it together, and I loved hearing the story gradually unfold. Nigel and Allison rounded it all off perfectly with their narration and deeper discussion at the end.
And this is only the beginning. Before the Tide Takes Them is the first part of a Happisburgh trilogy, combining original audio drama with discussion of the real history and research behind the story. The drama is based on historical events and contemporary newspaper reports, although characters, dialogue and some events have been imagined or adapted.
For me, being involved means a little more than simply having a small part in a podcast. Happisburgh is part of my family history and part of my childhood. It is the beach with memories of my mum, Nanny Winnie resting in the churchyard and that familiar lighthouse watching over a coastline that is slowly changing.
Being able to play even a tiny part in keeping one of its stranger stories alive feels rather special.
You can listen to “Places Remember: Before the Tide Takes Them” here:
It is also available through Spotify and Apple Podcasts.
There is also a new accompanying Places Remember website. This is still being populated, but Nigel and Allison are gradually adding historical sources, research and further information uncovered during their investigations, so it is well worth keeping an eye on as it develops:
(Image: Effigy of Sarah Hare. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
When I was a child, I had a fascination with the strange corners of history, and this, of course, has continued on into adulthood. The books I borrowed from the library were full of ghosts, folklore, unexplained mysteries and curious historical oddities. Among all the photographs that lodged themselves in my imagination, save for the spontaneous human combustion foot photo, one stood out above the rest. It was the wax effigy of Sarah Hare.
I remember being quite unsettled by it. In a time before I’d ever heard the phrase “uncanny valley,” I already knew exactly how it felt. She looked too real to be a statue yet far too lifeless to be a person. I found her slightly repulsive, but I could never quite look away.
So, when I recently found myself in Norfolk, visiting Holy Trinity Church at Stow Bardolph was top of my list. I wanted to see whether the real thing would have the same effect as those childhood photographs. And it absolutely did.
(Image: Inscription on Cabinet. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
Sarah Hare was the youngest daughter of Sir Thomas Hare of Stow Hall. She never married, so was what was once called a “spinster”, and lived a fairly ordinary life. In 1744, aged 55, she died from blood poisoning after pricking her finger while sewing. Later, locals claimed it was divine punishment for the crime of sewing on a Sunday, although the far more likely explanation is that the wound simply became infected.
The year before her death she wrote a remarkably detailed will. Alongside gifts to the poor of the parish, she made one very unusual request. She wanted her face and hands reproduced in wax, her own hair placed upon her head, and the finished effigy displayed in a mahogany cabinet with a glass front close to where she was buried.
She wrote: “I desire to have my face and hands made in wax with a piece of crimson satin thrown like a garment in a picture, hair upon my head and put in a case of Mahogany with a glass before and fix’d up so near the place were my corps lyes as it can be with my name and time of death put upon the case in any manner most desirable…“
If she did not arrange it during her lifetime, she instructed that it should be done after her death. Her family honoured those wishes. If you don’t ask, you don’t get, I suppose. And oh boy, did she get.
Today visitors to the Hare family mausoleum find a plain mahogany cabinet tucked into one corner. Nothing about it hints at what lies inside. Then the doors are opened, and there she is…
No photograph quite prepares you for seeing Sarah face to face. Her blue eyes seem fixed upon you. Her skin shows every wart and blemish. Her double chin has not been smoothed away. She wears one of her own silk gowns along with the crimson satin she specifically requested, and what is thought to be her own hair frames her face beneath an old fashioned wig.
(Image: Effigy of Sarah Hare. Source: E.Blackshaw 2026)
It is an astonishingly honest portrait, unadulterated by an idealising sculptor. In a time when many memorials celebrated wealth, beauty or achievement, Sarah chose something altogether different by asking to be remembered exactly as she was.
I wondered what her motives were. Was it vanity? I doubt it. If anything, the effigy avoids vanity completely. Nothing has been softened or flattered. Every blemish and imperfection remains. Perhaps it was simply a desire not to disappear entirely. After all, most of us hope to leave some trace that we were here, whether through family, creative work or acts of kindness. In Sarah’s case, she chose wax.
The effect is incredibly eerie. There is something deeply unsettling about meeting the gaze of someone who died almost three centuries ago, particularly when they appear so strikingly human.
There is also something strangely moving about it. Sarah has spent nearly 300 years silently watching visitors come and go. Seasons have changed and decades have flashed by. Yet Sarah still waits behind those cabinet doors. Time has not been entirely kind. The wax has required careful conservation and rodents once damaged her clothing before restoration work in the 1980s. Even so, she survives as the only funerary wax effigy in England outside Westminster Abbey.
Sarah Hare achieved the immortality she wanted, although probably in a way she could not have ever imagined. Thousands of curious visitors now make the journey to Stow Bardolph simply to meet her and look into her eyes.
As I left the Hare Chapel, I thought back to the child who had first stared uneasily at her photograph all those years ago. The real Sarah Hare was every bit as uncanny as I’d hoped she would be. Sometimes the strangest places really do live up to their reputation.
(Image: Swaffham Town Sign. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
A Story That Stayed With Me
When I was at primary school in rural Norfolk I remember hearing one of the first Norfolk folktales that ever captured my imagination: the Pedlar of Swaffham.
The story fascinated me. Over the years, I came to realise that although it felt so familiar to me, it was not nearly as well known elsewhere. Many people had heard of the famous tale of Dick Whittington and his cat, but very few people I met had ever heard of the Pedlar of Swaffham and his hound. Yet, as we shall discover, this story belongs to a much wider tradition of folklore and shares surprising similarities with legends from elsewhere.
I can still picture myself sitting cross legged on the classroom floor, listening intently as my teacher recounted the almost magical story of a poor pedlar whose life was transformed after following a dream. Then came the part that amazed me. My teacher told us that the story was based on a real person, and that the pedlar had paid for the rebuilding of the church in Swaffham. Better still, she said, you could still see him on the town sign.
To a child, that was extraordinary. How could someone who seemed to belong in a fairy tale have actually existed?
Stories like this have a way of staying with you, lodging themselves in your imagination. The Pedlar of Swaffham certainly did for me. Decades later while visiting Norfolk, I decided it was finally time to visit Swaffham itself to see whether I could still find traces of the legend and perhaps even of the man behind it.
Looking for the Pedlar
(Image: Carving believed to be John Chapman. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
While researching both the folklore and the historical origins of the Pedlar of Swaffham, I discovered that St Peter and St Paul’s Church contains carvings believed to depict the historical John Chapman, the man thought to have inspired the legend. That made the church my first destination.
Walking from the marketplace down a wide lane, the great tower of St Peter and St Paul’s gradually came into view, rising above the surrounding buildings. Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the magnificent hammerbeam roof stretching overhead. The church was quiet, filled with the sort of peaceful atmosphere that encourages you to slow down and take everything in with reverence.
I then began my search for the famous carvings.
The first I found were on the bench ends. Some showed a folkloric depiction of the Pedlar of Swaffham wearing his close fitting rolled brim hat and carrying his pack. Nearby were carvings of his faithful dog. They were wonderful to see, but they were not the figures I had come looking for.
Further into the church, I finally found them. The carvings believed to represent the historical John Chapman show him peering from a window, while his wife looks out from a balcony above. It felt strangely moving to come face to face with someone who had lived in my imagination since childhood.
The Church Behind the Legend
The history of the man in the carving is closely linked to the history of the church itself.
(Image: St Peter and St Paul’s Church, Swaffham. Source: E.Blackshaw 2026)
St Peter and St Paul’s Church was rebuilt during the fifteenth century, funded by a number of wealthy local benefactors. Among them was John Chapman, whose generosity helped finance the work and whose likeness is thought to survive within the church.
It is here that history and folklore begin to merge. The documented life of John Chapman became entwined with the local legend until it became difficult to separate the historical benefactor from the legendary pedlar. Together, they created one of Norfolk’s most loved folk stories.
Who was John Chapman? Why did he become known as the Pedlar of Swaffham? How did the story of one Norfolk merchant become one of England’s most enduring folktales?
Settle in and let us follow the dream that turned an ordinary pedlar into a legend.
The Pedlar’s Dream
John Chapman was a pedlar, a travelling merchant, who wandered around Norfolk in the fifteenth century, taking his goods from one market to another. On market days he would join the other traders selling everything from brooches and combs to silver mirrors, eggs, spices, mustard and freshly baked bread. With his packhorse loaded with wares, John would leave Swaffham early in the morning and spend the day selling what he could. He’d then stay overnight in simple lodgings and return home the next day.
One day he came home tired and disappointed. Business had been very poor and he had not sold a single thing, not even one copper pan.
After his meal he complained to his wife that money was becoming short and trade was getting harder. The long journey had worn him out, so he went straight upstairs to bed.
That night he had the strangest dream.
(Image: Pedlar of Swaffham bench end. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
The dream was so vivid that it felt completely real. A man appeared to him over and over again, telling him that if he travelled to London Bridge and stood there, he would hear something that would lead him to his fortune.
When he woke the dream stayed with him. He tried to put it out of his mind, but it kept returning. The next day he thought about it again. Then the day after that. The more he tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to pop into his head.
Eventually he could stand it no longer.
“I have to go to London Bridge,” he told his wife.
She thought the whole idea sounded preposterous, but she could see he had made up his mind. If travelling all that way would finally put the dream to rest, then she was not going to stop him.
So John packed a few clothes and some food for the journey, called to his faithful dog, and set off on the long road to London.
After many days of walking he finally arrived in the hustle and bustle of the great city. Before long he found London Bridge, but it was nothing like the bridge we know today. In those days it was lined with houses and shops, with people living and working all along it. It was one of the busiest places in England.
John found a place to stand and waited.
He watched everyone who passed, listening carefully to every conversation. Surely someone would say the words he had travelled all this way to hear.
One day passed. Then another. Still nothing happened.
On the third day a shopkeeper noticed him and asked why he had been standing on the bridge for so long.
John admitted that he was there because of a dream. The shopkeeper just laughed.
“My friend,” he said, “if I believed dreams, I’d be as foolish as you. Only a few nights ago I dreamed I should travel to the home of a man called John Chapman in Swaffham and dig beneath the tree behind his house. According to my dream, I’d find a great treasure there. But you don’t see me rushing off to Norfolk, do you?”
(Image: Chapman’s dog. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
The shopkeeper laughed again and went back to his business.
John stood speechless, scarcely believing his own ears. Without wasting another moment, he turned around and began the journey home.
As soon as he reached Swaffham he grabbed a spade and hurried to the apple tree behind his house. He dug as quickly as he could, hardly expecting to find anything, yet still hoping.
Then his spade struck something hard.
He uncovered a chest buried beneath the earth, filled with gold coins. He and his wife were overjoyed. But carved into the lid was an inscription in Latin that neither he nor his wife could understand. He started to worry that this might not be his fortune, but perhaps a curse inscribed. Hoping someone might recognise the words, John placed the chest in his window.
It wasn’t long before some educated young men who knew the language happened to pass by. They read the inscription and translated it.
“Under me doth lie, another much richer than I.”
John didn’t need telling twice.
He returned to the tree and dug even deeper. Soon he pulled up another chest, this one far larger than the first. Inside were coins, jewels and riches beyond anything he had ever imagined.
The pedlar’s fortune had finally been found.
According to the legend, John Chapman became one of Swaffham’s wealthiest men. Grateful for his good fortune, he helped pay for the rebuilding of St Peter and St Paul’s Church.
Whether every detail really happened is impossible to know. Over the centuries, history and folklore have become intertwined. More than five hundred years later, the pedlar remains a symbol of Swaffham and is immortalised on the town sign. Visitors can still find the carvings said to represent the pedlar and his loyal dog, and his story continues to be told in Swaffham and far beyond.
As I walked from the church, I thought my journey with the Pedlar had come to an end. In reality, it was only just beginning. While researching the Swaffham legend I had come across another story of a prophetic dream and hidden treasure, but this time from a place with a very personal connection to my own life.
It made me wonder whether the Pedlar of Swaffham is just one version of a much older story, one that has travelled across countries and centuries.
That is a journey I’ll be exploring in the next part of this series.
(Image: Swaffham Town Sign. Source: E.Holohan 2026)
Sources
Dixon, Geoffrey M. Folk Tales and Legends of Norfolk. Minimax Books Ltd, 1 Dec. 1998.
Westwood, Jennifer, and Jacqueline Simpson. The Lore of the Land : A Guide to England’S Legends, from Spring-Heeled Jack to the Witches of Warboys. London, Penguin Books, 2006.
Over the years there have been frequent reports of a variety of unusual phenomena experienced between 3-4am, particularly heightened at 3:33am. Such phenomena as individuals waking up at this time for no logical reason, reported experiences of ‘sleep paralysis’ and more frequent reports of paranormal activity are associated with this time frame.
3am is often referred to as “Dead Time” or the “Devil’s Hour” as it is the time when paranormal activity is at its peak. Demons are said to be more active at this time rather than spirits. The popular Christian theory is that Jesus Christ died at 3pm, the opposite of 3am, and so 3am is the most active time for demons who wish to defy Christ and mock the Holy Trinity.
3:33am is thought to be the time for the ultimate mockery of the Holy Trinity with it also being half of 666; the number of the Beast. It is said at this time the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is at its thinnest, allowing demons and spirits to communicate or cross over more easily than at other times.
Those who research the field of the paranormal state that spirits can be active 24/7 and that there is no concrete evidence to indicate that 3am is more active than any other time. However, paranormal activity may appear to occur more often at night as conditions of darkness are more suitable for conducting paranormal research. It is easier to see light anomalies or apparitions in the darkness and many items of paranormal research equipment are better able to pick up on activity in dark conditions. The senses are also intensified at night, which may give the impression that there is more paranormal activity occurring at that time due to everyday noises and tricks of the light creating mistaken paranormal experiences.
It has also been noted that many deaths occur between 3-5am as it is at this time that the body’s immune system is more vulnerable. Those who are terminally ill or very elderly are more likely to pass away at this time due to the body being weakened. Some researchers cite this as a theory as to why more spirits are active at this time, correlating with their times of death.
333 phenomena has also been reported by individuals who recognise repeated patterns of these numbers in their daily life such as waking up at 3:33am or seeing these numbers everywhere. Due to the theory that these numbers are a mockery of the Holy Trinity, individuals may have assigned religious meaning to these numbers causing psychological suggestion and leading the subconscious to pick out these patterns. This can go as far as subconsciously programming the body to wake up at this time.
It does seem naive for anyone to be able to claim that 3pm was the exact time of the death of Jesus, as at present religious scholars still disagree on what date this even took place. Therefore it seems imprudent for the number 3 to be ascribed mystical and religious meaning. Historically many people believed that midnight, the ‘witching hour’, was a period of greater activity for witches, demons and ghosts, with people avoiding going out at night due to this. It seems likely that our primeval fear of the dark, when early humans were more vulnerable to predators, has been retained and as a consequence superstition and religion has been used to apply meaning to our fear of the dark and the unknown.
Paranormal beliefs are often portrayed as less rational and credible than religious beliefs. Even worse are conservative and fundamentalist believers who often regard paranormal claims as having to do with the forces of evil.
Religious and paranormal beliefs do share a number of important things in common, both have the view that the world is not just matter and energy, but presume the added presence of immaterial forces that influence or control the course of our lives. There seems to be a desire to provide meaning and coherence to otherwise random and chaotic events. If we suddenly are aware of a distant event that we should not know about we might attribute that to clairvoyance or psychic powers. How is this so different to believing it could be angels or God?
Paranormal belief systems are very similar to religion; they can provide meaning to our lives as well as the events in our lives. They can provide a social structure and comfort at different times. Paranormal belief systems do however lack some of the critical characteristics of religions. We do not necessarily base moral codes upon paranormal beliefs.
Religious beliefs are often based on cultural conditioning; most beliefs are inherited from the family unit and taught in institutional settings or absorbed through contact with society at large. Spiritual and paranormal beliefs on the other hand are most often based on personal experience; they can go hand in hand as they sometimes serve the same purpose. They both provide a moral foundation upon which to base behavior.
The paranormal community has exploded maybe due to the lack of faith in religion. And with all the controversy with abuse allegations that has come to light it is no wonder people are looking for alternative means of belief and faith.
On 1st May 2010 Steve was driving towards Goleen from Bantry with Susan and another passenger. It was around 5am in the morning and the road was clear. Steve was driving past Kilheangul Burial Ground at around 40 miles per hour and noticed in his peripheral vision that the gravestones appeared to be ‘glowing’. He saw a large looming, glowing white shape that he took to be a very tall Celtic cross, also glowing. Steve felt eerie and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, although the other passengers did not notice the cemetery. The moon was almost full so Steve puts this experience perhaps down to the moon reflecting off the gravestones.
On 6th May 2010 Susan drove me to Kilheangul Burial Ground at around 11pm to take photos of the location in order to find a possible explanation for the ‘glowing gravestones’. Susan stayed in the car while I got out to take photos. While Susan was backing up the car into a nearby lay-by she turned her head towards the cemetery and saw what she believed to be a very tall glowing white statue of a man or angel. She thought nothing of it at the time, as this is the kind of sight expected in a cemetery. Susan describes the figure as that of a tall, solid looking man with curly hair. The figure was glowing white, which she took to be moonlight reflecting off granite. However it was a cloudy night with no moonlight. The figure appeared to be turned towards the direction of myself taking photos. Meanwhile I took several photos and saw no such figure amongst the stones. I did however notice a quick flash of light amongst the gravestones which I put down to being a reflection from the car headlights.
Upon returning home Susan asked me if I had taken a picture of the ‘statue’. When I reviewed the photos taken there was no such figure and I had not seen any figure with my naked eye. Susan felt rather emotional following the experience. The next day they returned to the burial ground in the hours of daylight in order to find the ‘statue’ that Susan had seen. However there was no such statue. Susan does not believe it was the nearby tree or the white Celtic cross. She believes it was taller and in a different position to these. Upon reviewing the photos Steve also believes the thing he saw was much taller than the Celtic crosses present and in the same area as Susan’s sighting.
Both Steve and Susan would like to pass off what they saw as having natural origins such as tricks of the light. However, it is unusual that what they saw seems to be similar: a large figure of some kind glowing white. Steve, Susan and I also do not have any knowledge of Gaelic, but upon researching the name of the Gaelic name of the cemetery found that ‘Aingeal’ means ‘angel’. Could this have been an angel or guardian spirit watching over the burial ground?
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