Uncovering Glastonbury’s Supernatural Secrets – An Uncanny Journey into Paranormal, Mythical, and Folkloric Wonder

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Glastonbury, a town steeped in mysticism and ancient folklore, served as the backdrop for a recent winter expedition that united bloggers, podcasters, and fans of the paranormal. Our journey began at the venerable George and Pilgrim pub, an atmospheric establishment echoing with centuries of history.

George and Pilgrim Pub: An Eerie Prelude

Nestled in the heart of Glastonbury, the George and Pilgrim pub proved to be the ideal starting point for our supernatural escapade.

(George & Pilgrim Pub Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

The George and Pilgrim pub is one of the best surviving pre-reformation inns in England, one that has provided food, drink, and accommodation to pilgrims and visitors to Glastonbury for centuries. Its exact age is unknown, but it is known to have been rebuilt by Abbot Selwood in around 1455 when he oversaw an expansion of the abbey. The building itself comprises three stone storeys with a façade that resembles a small castle with battlements.  There are three panels over the front entrance. Two of these contain the coat of arms of the abbey and King Edward IV while the third is blank. This possibly contained the white rose of York and was tactfully removed when King Henry VII came to the throne. The inn was built to accommodate wealthy pilgrims visiting the nearby abbey.  The pub is also linked to the abbey by an underground tunnel that begins in the cellar and leads to a point within the abbey walls. It is thought that pilgrims could have used the tunnel to gain secret access to the abbey. Parts of the interior still have the original oak beam ceiling and stone slab flooring. Early carvings, figurines, and statues are still in place in the bar area. The interior is full of historical character, from its beamed ceilings, dark oak furniture, and huge fireplace.

As we convened, exchanging greetings, the air buzzed with anticipation. The pub, with its creaking floorboards and shadowy corners, set the stage for a day filled with eerie adventures.

St Margaret’s Chapel: A Sanctuary of Secrets

(St Margaret’s Chapel. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

Our first destination to beckon us was St Margaret’s Chapel, a hidden gem of Glastonbury, a retreat away from the bustle of Magdalene Street. This sacred space exuded an otherworldly energy of peace and tranquillity. Built around 1250-70 and founded by Abbot Michael, it was first established as a pilgrim hospital with a chapel at the east end.  At this time, it was known as the Hospital of St Mary Magdalene. Tired and hungry pilgrims were fed, washed, and accommodated here while visiting the abbey to view its shrines and relics. It was originally a long infirmary hall with cubicles on either side. The chapel was dedicated to St Margaret who was a Scottish Queen and Saxon princess. The chapel itself has a barrel roof and a now fully restored bell-cote.

By the early 15th Century, the large hall was replaced with two rows of alms-houses used for accommodating aging, poor parishioners. These were in use until the 1950s when one row was finally demolished. The site was rescued by the Quest Community and the Mary and Margaret Charity, who restored it and now care for it.

Here we explored the chapel with its glittering icons and spent some time in quiet contemplation in the gardens before moving on to the next destination on our journey.

Chalice Well: Nourishing the Spirit

(Chalice Well. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

A pilgrimage to Glastonbury wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the Chalice Well, a site brimming with symbolism and ancient charm.

The Chalice Well, lying sheltered between Chalice Hill and the Tor, is an area of gardens arranged around a series of fountains and water features. It was the main supply of fresh water in Glastonbury until the 19th Century and 25,000 gallons of water flow there every day. This holy well is also known as the “Red Spring” or “Blood Spring” due to the red iron deposits the water leaves on everything it touches.

The site is ancient, with a 1961 excavation bringing up Roman pottery and flint. The stump of a yew tree dated to the Roman period was even found in the deep excavation. Yews still grow at the Chalice Well today and have a strong association with the ancient Druids and also Christian churchyard.

Legend has it that Joseph of Arimathea and his followers settled nearby and built the first Christian shrine in Britain and that the earliest baptisms were conducted in the spring. It is said that Joseph brought the chalice or cup used by Jesus in the Last Supper and either buried or washed the cup at the site, causing the water representing the blood of Christ to spring forth from the ground. Due to this, the Chalice Well is linked to the quest for the Holy Grail.

The Chalice Well has also been associated with healing waters for several centuries. In 1582 Dr John Dee declared he had discovered the ‘Elixir Vitae’ at the well and declared the water had healing properties. By the 18th Century, it became fashionable for people to visit the take the waters, with visitors flocking to the well to be healed. In 1750 a man from North Wootton claimed he had had a dream which told him to drink the water on seven consecutive Sundays to cure his asthma. He did this and proclaimed that he had “recovered of his disorder”. By 1751 tens of thousands of visitors came to take the waters, many of whom made sworn testimonies stating they had been cured of all manner of things, including blindness, ulcers, deafness, and scrofula.

(Chalice Well. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

Today the Lion’s Head drinking fountain is the only place in the gardens where the iron-rich water is safe to drink. The Chalice Well is now a place of quiet contemplation, peace, and calm, where visitors can revive their spirits and be soothed by nature. My husband and I filled our water bottle here, so we could drink the healing, iron-rich water later.

On Wellhouse Lane outside Chalice Well, leading up to the Tor, there is also a tap where travellers can fill their bottles when the gardens are closed. Directly opposite this lies the White Spring, from which calcium-rich waters flow, which we didn’t visit on this occasion.

The healing waters and vibrant gardens provided a tranquil respite, allowing our group to reflect on the mystical threads connecting Glastonbury’s past and present.

Glastonbury Tor: A Beacon of Mystery

Due to the inclement icy weather, myself and a number of our group decided to forgo climbing up the iconic Glastonbury Tor, preferring to view from a distance from the Chalice Well below. However, two brave members of our group continued their exploration, climbing through the mist and ice to the summit.

The Tor is a towering hill with panoramic views, it is shrouded in legend, rumoured to be the mythical Avalon. The mists rolling off the Levels left only the tower visible, pointing like a beacon towards the heavens; imposing and darkly powerful. The climb to the summit is approximately 158m above sea level, the sides are precipitous, and on a clear day, climbers can see for miles.

In early times the whole area here used to be a wetland and archaeology shows that the early inhabitants of the area built communities on hills or manmade structures, such as at the Lake Villages of Godney and Mere. Therefore, before the Levels were drained, Glastonbury Tor would have been a wetland island, perhaps leading to the myth of the Isle of Avalon. In prehistoric times it certainly would have been a landmark for local inhabitants and travellers.

(The Tor seen from Chalice Well below. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

Archaeological excavation indicates that the site has been inhabited since at least the 6th Century. Pottery and metalwork have been found there indicating the presence of a people of possible importance such as a monastic community. This may have been a sacred place long before Christianity, used by Bronze Age people and perhaps the Celts. The positioning of the Chalice Well and the Tor fits with a Celtic format, perhaps a place of pagan religious importance, later taken over by Christians.

A Norman chapel was built to St Michael on the summit, but destroyed by an earthquake in 1275. It was rebuilt 50 years later and in the 15th Century a tower was added, which remains today as a romantic, lonely ruin.

The Tor is associated with several myths and legends. There is thought to be a cave deep within the Tor, which is said to be a portal into the Otherworld which the Welsh mythological Lord of the Otherworld (Annwn) uses to transport spirits. It is said that on All Hallows Eve, the Lord of the Otherworld rides out from the cave on dark steeds for the Wild Hunt; collecting souls. He is followed by the hounds of hell, Cwn Annwn. The myth remains strong as in 2005 in the early hours of the morning, locals said that a charge of demonic horses could be heard galloping through the town. Four locals stated that they saw riderless black horses thundering up Bere Lane, along Chilkwell Street, and then disappearing in the direction of the Tor. They were lucky to keep their souls, in that case!

There is also a story relating to St Collen and his experience of the Tor. The saint visited Glastonbury but shortly after had a falling out with the local monks. He left for the Tor and made a cell in a quiet spot near the spring at the bottom. Here he is said to have had a vision of the Lord of the Otherworld, also believed to be King of the Fair Folk (fairies), Gwyn ap Nudd. His vision included scenes of revelry at the fairy castle, a fine feast, and music. St Collen sprinkled holy water and the vision vanished, leaving him alone on the Tor summit. Locals say that if the summit of the Tor is covered in mist, Gwyn ap Nudd is holding high revelry there. The members of our group climbed the misty Tor, but as far as I know, were not transported to the Fairy Realm on this occasion.

Return to the Haunted Haven: the George and Pilgrim Pub

After our day of exploring some of the sights of Glastonbury, we reconvened back at the George and Pilgrim pub for dinner and drinks in its atmospheric setting. We spent the evening sharing stories and bonding over our shared interests.

(Evening shenanigans. Image Source: ©J.Hickey-Hall)

As night fell, many of us chose to brave the haunted rooms of the George and Pilgrim, welcoming the prospect of nighttime encounters with the unknown.

The George and Pilgrim pub has a reputation as one of the most haunted hotels in England. A man in 17th-century clothing is said to walk through the bar, to then disappear. In the Small Bar guests have heard a violent argument in process, only to discover on investigation that there is nobody there.

The bedrooms on the upper floors are said to be haunted by a variety of spirits. Footsteps have been heard moving along the empty corridors and cigar smoke has been smelled by occupants in certain rooms in the early hours. Chambermaids have reported that taps have been turned on, bed covers disordered, and furniture moved by unseen hands.

(The corridor to the Abbot Bere Room. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

In one room the spirit of a monk was seen by a lady who awoke in the night. She felt the bed sink as the monk sat on the bed, where he stayed for several minutes talking about the time of Queen Elizabeth I, before fading away. Local legend has it that a monk once completed suicide in that very room.

A married couple once stayed in another room and reported that the wife was woken in the night by footsteps approaching the bedroom door. She looked to see a glimmering light with a tall, thin man in a sports jacket standing at the door. As she went to leap out of bed in fright, he smiled and disappeared.

The group decided to meet up in one of the rooms, ‘Abbot Richard Bere’ room, to see if anything spooky could be felt. Abbot Bere was Abbot of Glastonbury between 1493-1524. He began much building on Glastonbury Abbey, from the chapels to the crypts, and also rebuilt the tribunal in around 1500. Although the room was very atmospheric, with its old-fashioned four-poster bed, we did not feel anything unusual in this room.

Several of us retired to bed, but a small group of us including myself peeled off and spent some time in another of the bedrooms. Here we turned out the lights and called out for any spirits to show themselves. We heard some small tapping sounds, but on investigation, these sounds were found to be the radiators heating up.

Finally, we called it a night and my husband and I retired to our room, ‘The Monk’s Cell’. This room is believed to be where the Abbot Whiting and his two monks were held on the morning of their execution. Abbot Whiting had been charged by King Henry VIII with robbery at the Bishop’s Palace in Wells after the dissolution of the monasteries. He was found guilty and attached to a hurdle, dragged through town, and eventually was hanged up on Glastonbury Tor alongside two of his monks John Thorne and Roger Wilfred. Whiting was then drawn and quartered and his head hung over the Abbey gateway.

(The Mon’s Cell. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

The room had an eerie feel to it, this may just have been due to suggestion because of its old-fashioned style and slightly off-kilter proportions. I slept quite poorly that night, having weird dreams, but this once again may be due to the priming of being in a ‘possibly haunted’ room. My husband slept quite well though.

The next morning, however, provided some spooky hijinks. In the breakfast room, we were entertained by the light-hearted staff as we ate our breakfasts. Several times we noted that breakfast menus fell off the tables, perhaps pushed by spectral hands. Or, just as likely, gravity, of course. The staff claimed that this was the hotel poltergeist, ‘Arkwright’, who caused all kinds of mischief in the kitchen and breakfast room.

A Parting of Ways

Our sojourn through Glastonbury transcended the ordinary, weaving together a collective tale of mystery, and folklore, and shared fascination with the paranormal. As we departed, the ancient energy of Glastonbury lingered, leaving an indelible mark on each of us and a treasury of memories and stories to share with kindred spirits.

Please check out some of my fellow Glastonbury explorers’ podcasts and writing:

Peter Laws (https://www.peterlaws.co.uk/), Owen Staton (Time Between Times: https://www.youtube.com/@TimebetweenTimes), Dr Delyth Badder ( The Folklore of Wales: Ghosts https://www.amazon.co.uk/Folklore-Wales-Ghosts-Delyth-Badder/dp/191527950X), Jo Hickey-Hall (The Modern Fairy Sightings Podcast https://www.scarlettofthefae.com/category/the-modern-fairy-sightings-podcast/)

References

Drumbeats of the Past: Uncle Gerald’s Fateful Meeting with the Hickling Drummer Boy

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(Phantom Drummer. Image Source: Bing Image Creator)

My step-uncle Gerald lived in the village of Hickling, nestled in the heart of the Norfolk Broadlands. He was one of the few remaining reed cutters, a job with a long, proud tradition in the area but sadly dying out as fewer people needed thatch for their homes.

(Gerald Nudd 1940-1999. Artist unknown. Image Source: ©E.Holohan)

It was back in the mid-1990s that my step-uncle spent his day on Hickling Broad, the local body of water, slicing through reeds as the sun dipped below the horizon. One evening, the air grew cold and he witnessed a spectral figure gliding across the Broad.

(Hicking Broad, Norfolk. Image Source: John Fielding)

Now, being Hickling born and bred and from a family whose ancestry here stretched back as far as the Norse settlers, Gerald realised in horror that he was witnessing a local legend recreating its ethereal journey across the Broad.

Local folklore has it that during the winter of 1815, shortly before the battle of Waterloo, a local drummer boy from Potter Heigham returned home on leave. While back he fell passionately in love with a local girl from a wealthy and influential family. The girl’s father, knowing the drummer boy was poor, refused to allow the relationship and any thought of marriage.

Undeterred by this, the star-crossed lovers continued to meet in secret every night in a little hut at Swim Coots on the edge of Hickling Broad. When the winter turned icy and the Broad froze over, the drummer boy skated over the ice, wearing his bright yellow scarlet trimmed coat, and would beat his kettle drum to signal his approach.

(The view from Swim Coots Mill. Image Source: Bart Horeman cc-by-sa/2.0)

One frozen February evening the girl waited at Swim Coots as usual and listened out for the drum beat of her paramour. But this time the drum beat suddenly stopped and there was an eerie silence. The ice had cracked and the drummer boy had plunged through and drowned in the freezing waters of the Broad.

It is said that the girl rushed to the edge of the frozen Broad to find her lover and was relieved to see the shivering boy skating towards her. As she held out her hands to help him ashore, she felt his icy touch and the drummer boy disappeared.

The unfortunate drummer boy was not found for several days when a lifeless body was pulled from the Broad clad in a yellow coat with scarlet trim.

(Hickling Broad with Swim Coots marked. Image Source: Google Maps 2023)

Since then, it is said that on some cold winter nights in February, the eerie sound of a rhythmic drum tattoo and the swishing of skates can be heard, as the ghostly drummer boy tries to keep his date with his sweetheart.

After observing in shock the gliding figure, Gerald quickly downed his tools and fled back to the village where he decided to visit the Greyhound Inn for a stiff, nerve-settling drink. As Gerald recounted the haunting sight of the ghostly drummer boy to the sceptical pub patrons, the line between reality and spirits blurred. Was it the ethereal presence of the supernatural he witnessed, or a distorted vision fuelled by the spirits from his glass?

The locals in the pub dismissed his tale, attributing it to his well-known predilection for whisky. However, Gerald couldn’t shake the chilling memory, leaving him wondering if the haunting beats of the drummer boy would forever echo in his consciousness or fade away like the dissipating spirits in his empty whisky glass.

References

Whispers of the Ancient: An Autumn Expedition to the Enigmatic White Horse of Uffington, the Ridgeway, and Wayland’s Smithy

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(White Horse of Uffington. Image Source: superdove CC BY-NC-SA)

As the days grow cooler and the nights draw in, and early winter rolls out over the land, please come with me on a journey back in time and an autumn ramble through the ancient landscape of Uffington in Oxfordshire. On this journey over chalk hills and across ancient trackways, I am joined by my husband and also by Emma, from Weird Wiltshire blog fame, who is accompanied by her furry sidekicks Bingo Jones the Jack Russell and Buddy Love the lurcher.

Our adventure begins at the National Trust car park below White Horse Hill, on an unusually warm autumn afternoon. We set off to make our way up towards the impressive equine chalk geoglyph, passing local wildlife including grazing sheep, and a tiny common lizard basking in the autumn sunlight.

(Common Lizard. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

History of the White Horse

The Uffington White Horse is a 109 metre (360 foot) figure sprawling over the slope of the chalk Downs of Oxfordshire. The chalk outlines of this geoglyph were created by cutting into the turf and removing it to expose the gleaming white chalk below. This icon was designed to be seen from far away and can be seen from at least 15 miles away as it gallops and leaps across the Berkshire Downs.

This chalk figure is around 3,000 years old, and is one of the oldest hill figures in the country. It has been maintained over this long period by the local population through the process of ‘scouring’. This is where plants and grasses growing over the chalk outlines are cut away regularly to maintain their shape. This was often done around midsummer and would include a country fair, feasts, and festivals to mark the occasion. It sounds like it was a really lively local event.

(The approach to the White Horse. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

The figure is a strange, stylized, and elongated horse which is reminiscent of ancient cave paintings of animals. This truly ancient white horse is also striking in its resemblance to the stylized figures of horses on Iron Age coins and metalwork. Soil samples taken from the lowest levels of the chalk date the Horse to the end of the Bronze Age or the start of the Iron Age, between 1200-800 BC.

Author GK Chesterton (1874-1936), who wrote ‘Ballad of the White Horse’ (1911), summed up the age of the ancient geoglyph perfectly:

Before the god that made the gods,

had seen their sunrise pass,

the White Horse of the White Horse Vale,

was cut out of the grass.

The White Horse sits in a landscape full of archaeology and ancient monuments, from Neolithic burials, through Bronze Age settlements, to later Iron Age defences. It is clear that this area and this chalk symbol have been a significant place for millennia.

Some say this ancient figure resembles a dragon more than a horse and this has resulted in myths and legends relating to dragons at nearby features which we will hear about further along on our journey.

Myths and Legends of the White Horse

There is still much debate as to the purpose of the Uffington White Horse. The location could have had a ritual or religious purpose as a possible Celtic shrine, connected to the worship of Epona the horse goddess, or may represent something else sacred.

In Europe and Asia, there is an ancient history of horses being associated with the sky and sun. The Sun Horse pulls the sun through the sky, either drawing it on the back of a chariot or pulling it directly. The horse pulls the sun through the underworld, leaving the world in darkness, before rising once more at dawn. Perhaps the White Horse is an ancient symbol of this sacred sun horse, leaping across the landscape, or a totem of an ancient horse cult.

It could also have had political significance as a meeting point between 3 great tribal kingdoms in the area. This may have served as a warning against trespass or to mark a meeting point for trade and diplomacy. Others have posited that the White Horse represents the battle standard of the Saxon ruler Alfred Hengist. Hengist is Old English for “stallion”.

(Weird White Horse and Foal. Image Source: Bing Image Creator)

Legend has it that the Uffington White Horse is a mare and that her foal was also etched into a nearby hill, which has now been lost to nature. It is said that at night the horse and foal come down to feed at the slope below known as the Manger. The mare and foal also drink at nearby Woolstone Wells, which are said to be formed from a hoofprint from the mythical horse.

Another local superstition describes how if you stand on the eye of the Uffington White Horse and turn around three times clockwise, eyes closed and while making a wish, you will have that wish come true. However, this is no longer advised due to damage that can be caused to the beautiful, ancient chalk figure.

Dragon Hill

From the brow of White Horse Hill, we can see a small flat-topped mound known as ‘Dragon Hill’. Local people maintained for centuries that the chalk hill figure was in fact a portrait of a dragon killed by St George on this hill. The blood of the slain dragon is reputed to have fallen onto the hill, poisoning the soil forever. A bare patch of ground on the top of the mound testifies to this corrupted, poisoned earth.

(Dragon Hill seen from near the White Horse. Image Source: ©E.Heard.)

There are also stories that King Arthur is not dead, but instead lies sleeping, and will one day awake when England is in grave danger. It is said that when King Arthur awakes, the Uffington horse will rise up and dance in delight on Dragon Hill.

Uffington Castle

As we climb to the brow of White Horse Hill, on our way towards the ancient trackway, we pass the earth ramparts and ditch of the former Iron Age hill fort known as Uffington Castle, which still looms protectively over the Vale of the White Horse. Past excavations have indicated that it was probably built in the 7th or 8th century BC and continued to be occupied throughout the Iron Age. Pottery found on the site suggests that the fort was used throughout the Iron Age and into the Roman era. This hillfort was a strategic location that commanded the Ridgeway, the prehistoric track that runs from Overton Hill to Ivinghoe Beacon. It is clear that whoever held the Ridgeway track would control the West of England, so much so that some people believe that Uffington was Mount Badon, where King Arthur is said to have defeated the Saxons. However, little is yet known about the use of Uffington Castle, and archaeologists are now looking at the possibility that it is less a defensive structure, but rather a spiritual centre.

The Ridgeway

(Walking the Ridgeway Image Source: ©E.Heard)

We pass over the top of the hill and through a gate to join the ancient pathway known as ‘The Ridgeway’. The Ridgeway, an ancient trackway, holds profound historical importance and deep cultural significance that spans millennia. As Britain’s oldest road, it traces its roots back to prehistoric times, serving as a vital route for trade, pilgrimage, and communication. This ancient route, which stretches for 87 miles across chalk hills, meanders through picturesque landscapes, connecting the River Thames to the Avebury stone circle and beyond. The Ridgeway has witnessed the footsteps of countless generations, from Neolithic settlers to Roman soldiers, medieval pilgrims, and modern-day ramblers. Its historical significance lies not only in its utilitarian function but also in its cultural role, reflecting the evolving human narratives of the region. Today the Ridgeway continues to beckon walkers and history enthusiasts alike, inviting them to traverse its timeless path and connect with the living tapestry of the past, to experience the ancient history embedded in the landscape of Oxfordshire and beyond.

(Devil’s Coach Horse Beetle. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

Walking Westwards along the route, we pass leafy hedgerows brimming with ripe berries and encounter a devil’s coach horse beetle scuttling along the track, perhaps going about its namesake’s business.

Wayland’s Smithy

After following the Ridgeway for a mile and a half, we reach our ultimate destination, the remarkable long barrow of Wayland’s Smithy. Wayland’s Smithy is a mysterious Neolithic earth and stone structure once believed to be the home of a Saxon and Norse god of metalwork. Wayland the smith features in Germanic and Norse mythology and his legend may have been brought to England by Norsemen centuries after the long barrow was originally constructed.

(Wayland’s Smithy. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

As legend has it, Wayland was captured by Swedish King Ndud, and was disfigured and tortured before being forced to work for him in the royal smithy. Wayland eventually escaped his enslavement by killing the king’s sons, and using their skulls as drinking bowls, before raping the king’s daughter and escaping using a flying cloak or metal wings that he created using his metalwork skills.

Wayland escaped to England and built himself a smithy at the isolated location where the long barrow stands. Feeling embarrassed of his disfigured appearance he was able to hide himself away from public view while carrying on his smithy trade. However, Wayland was eventually found by King Ndud’s men and was killed. He managed to take out eight of the Norsemen with his smithing hammer before he was overpowered and legend has it that the eight skeletons that were found in the excavations of the long barrow in 1919 were these men.

(Wayland Smith. Image Source: Bing Image Creator )

Despite this end, is said that the spirit of Wayland still resides at Wayland’s Smithy and he will shoe any traveller’s horse if the horse and a coin are left at the Smithy overnight. Even today, coins can be found left in the holes of the stones, more for luck now, than for shoeing horses.

Wayland Smithy is also associated with the nearby Uffington White Horse. It is said that once every hundred years the White Horse leaves its hill and gallops across the sky to be reshod by Wayland in his smithy. The Neolithic tomb could perhaps also be associated with the Sun Horse legend; the already 1000-year-old long barrow may have been reimagined by the people who carved the chalk geoglyph as a portal for the horse and sun to enter the Underworld.

(The entrance to the long barrow. Image Source: ©E.Heard)

We stop for a while at Wayland’s Smithy to soak in the calm, peaceful, almost otherworldly atmosphere of the location. This is one of my favourite places for peaceful reflection, and the fallen trees make an excellent spot to take tea and snacks, which we do. Importantly, before we leave, we place coins for luck and offering to Wayland on the stones. We then begin the long walk back up the gentle incline to the car park, stopping to forage some of the wild fruits and berries we find on the Ridgeway, in the hope of cooking up some delicious jams and jellies to remind us of our ramble.

On one of the last warm days of the year, before Autumn begins to bite, our ramble through the ancient landscape of the Vale of the White Horse, the Ridgeway, and Wayland’s Smithy leaves an indelible imprint on my memory. Surrounded by the mystical whispers of history, the air carries the essence of bygone eras, weaving tales of our ancient ancestors and their untold mysteries. The undulating hills and the enigmatic White Horse carved into the earth create a canvas of timeless beauty. As I stand amidst the ancient stones of Wayland’s Smithy, I feel a profound connection to the past. This autumnal adventure, with its awe-inspiring scenery and palpable sense of history, is a poignant reminder of the enduring allure of the past, forever etched in the landscape of Britain.

(Autumn Ramblers, the two Emmas. Image Source: ©E.Blackshaw)

Check out my travel companion Weird Wiltshire’s wonderful blog where she explores stories of ghosts and the paranormal, folklore, history and anything weird, found in Wiltshire and beyond:

https://weird-wiltshire.co.uk/

Reference list

The Legend of Stingy Jack: The Haunting Legend Behind the Halloween Jack-o’-Lantern

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(Image Source: A traditional Irish turnip Jack-o’-lantern from the early 20th century. Photographed at the Museum of Country Life, Ireland. © Rannṗáirtí Anaiṫnid 2009)

Halloween, a time of ghosts, ghouls, and goblins, is a time when the veil between this world and the next is at its weakest and spirits roam the earth.  One legend looms large in the heart of Halloween itself – the macabre tale of Stingy Jack. This eerie figure from Irish folklore was the origin of the popular Halloween tradition of carving jack-o’-lanterns. Join me as I explore the dark legend of Stingy Jack and his connection to Halloween.

Who was Stingy Jack?

The legend of Stingy Jack originated from the depths of Irish folklore. Stingy Jack was a notorious trickster known for his deceit and cunning. Jack’s reputation for manipulation and shrewdness was so notorious that he even caught the eye of the devil himself.

The Legend and Faustian Bargain

The legend has it that Jack was out one night after having a tipple in his local tavern when he stumbled upon Satan on a country road. The devil demanded his soul, but Jack pleaded to have a last drink of ale with him in the local pub.  After their drinking session, Jack used his cunning to trick the devil into transforming himself into a coin to pay for their drinks. Jack placed the devilish coin in his pocket where he kept a crucifix, thereby stopping the devil from returning to his true form.

(Image Source: PAPÉ, Frank C. “The Devil…Did for His Comfort Give Him a Ring”, illustration from Rabelais’ Gargantua and Pantagruel, 1927. © Halloween HJB 2020)

Jack was very pleased with himself and his wheeze, but eventually freed Satan. However, not one for missing a trick, Jack only agreed to free the devil after he had struck a Faustian bargain. Jack made a deal that the devil should spare his soul for ten years.

Ten years passed and Jack encountered Satan once again while he was stumbling home from the pub. Using his cunning once again, he asked to have a last snack of an apple from a nearby tree. The devil foolishly climbed the apple tree to fetch him an apple. Once up the tree, Jack surrounded its trunk with crucifixes, trapping the devil in its branches. Realising he’d been had, the devil pleaded to be let down, but not before agreeing never to take Jack’s soul. However, this bargain came with a haunting clause, one that would forever alter Jack’s fate.

Jack’s Just Desserts

Eventually, Jack’s drink-fuelled life came to an end and he died. His soul prepared to ascend to Heaven, however as he tried to enter the pearly gates he was stopped by St Peter. Jack, demanding to know why he could not enter Heaven, was taken to see God, who told him that due to his sinful lifestyle, trickery, and deceitful ways, he was not eligible for Heaven.

Jack then descended to the Gates of Hell and begged Satan for admission into the underworld. However, the devil, fulfilling his obligation to Jack, could not take his soul.  Jack was instead condemned to roam the earth in perpetual darkness. The devil, however, felt sorry for Jack and gave him an ember to light his way, which he placed inside a carved turnip to create a makeshift lantern. This eerie lantern forever guides his eternal search for a final resting place as he wanders the world between the planes of good and evil.

(Image Source: Carved Turnips, © opacity 2019)

The Birth of the Jack-o’-Lantern and Stingy Jack’s Influence on Halloween

Over time Stingy Jack’s turnip lantern became synonymous with Celtic Samhain and Halloween. Irish immigrants brought their traditions to America and soon discovered that the local pumpkins, larger and easier to carve, made ideal lanterns. This transformation from turnips to pumpkins gave birth to the iconic ‘Jack-O’-Lantern’ we know today.

As you prepare for Halloween and carve your pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns, remember the eerie folkloric origin of this beloved tradition.  Stingy Jack, with his cunning trickery and Faustian bargain, has left an enduring spark of folklore as his cursed spirit lights our way through the mysterious and magical night of Halloween. So, when you see those flickering jack-o’-lanterns, spare a thought for Stingy Jack forever condemned to wander the earth with only a lantern to light his way.

(Image Source: Jack-O’-Lanterns, ©macwagen – CC BY-NC-ND -2019)

References

A Journey into the Mystical World of Avebury Stone Circle

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(Image source: Avebury (1937) by Paul Nash. Original from The Museum of New Zealand. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.)

A few days before the summer solstice, I embarked on a captivating journey to the ancient marvels of Avebury, Silbury Hill, and the West Kennett Long Barrow. It was a trip filled with wonder, history, and a dash of the paranormal. Joining me were fellow bloggers, writers, podcasters, and enthusiasts of the mystical and unexplained.

The Red Lion Pub

(Image Source: Avebury Information Sign, © E.Holohan September 2020)

Our adventure began at the Red Lion pub, a white-washed and thatched hostelry encircled by the colossal stones. The pub itself is a point of paranormal interest due to reports of ghostly happenings within especially from their female phantom, Florrie. During the 17th-century English Civil War, Florrie was caught with another man by her husband who had returned from the war unannounced. He shot her lover and cut her throat, then threw her body down the well. Florrie’s ghost has haunted the pub ever since.

(Image Source: Florrie’s Well, © E.Holohan June 2023)

After enjoying refreshments in the pub, we headed out on our journey, wending our way through the ancient “Avenue”; a passage between sarsen sandstone pairs that leads to “The Sanctuary” on Overton Hill, over 1 mile east.

Silbury Hill

Our first stop was the enigmatic Silbury Hill, a massive artificial mound that has puzzled archaeologists for centuries. Its origins and purpose remain a mystery, fuelling speculation about its role in ancient ceremonies or astronomical significance. Standing before this colossal earthwork, we couldn’t help but wonder about the labour and dedication that went into its construction.

(Image Source: Silbury Hill, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Silbury Hill is also steeped in ghostly tales and legends. Some claim to have witnessed spectral figures near the hill, while others speak of eerie lights and mysterious sounds. While we didn’t encounter any supernatural occurrences during our visit, the sense of mystery surrounding Silbury Hill added an extra layer of intrigue to our adventure.

West Kennet Long Barrow

Our next stop was the haunting West Kennett Long Barrow, a Neolithic burial chamber that is around 6000 years old. As we entered the dimly lit chamber, we felt a palpable connection to the past. The long barrow’s ancient stones seemed to whisper stories of the souls laid to rest within.

(Image Source: West Kennett Long Barrow, © E.Holohan June 2023)

The West Kennett Long Barrow is also known for its eerie tales of ghostly apparitions and strange phenomena. Visitors have reported encounters with shadowy figures and a sense of unease within the chamber’s confines. While we didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary, the stories added a spine-tingling dimension to our visit especially with Weird Wiltshire’s Emma recounting her own paranormal experiences here.

(Image Source: View from inside the Long Barrow, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Long Barrow Race

It was here that three of the adventurous souls in our group decided to have a race next to the long barrow. With laughter, excitement, and much cheering, they sprinted past the long barrow with one member, Peter Laws, reigning victorious. It was a light-hearted moment amidst the solemnity of the site.

(Image Source: The Long Barrow Runner, © E.Holohan June 2023)

Avebury Stone Circle

Thoroughly famished from our journey up to the barrow, the group retraced our steps to the stone circle proper.  Avebury Stone Circle is a Neolithic ceremonial marvel that dates back to 2850 BC.  Encircling the picturesque village of Avebury, this stone circle is one of the largest in Europe, and it is shrouded in history and folklore.

As we wandered among the colossal stones, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and reverence for the Neolithic people who raised them. Avebury’s history is steeped in mystery and legend. Some believe it to be a place of healing and spiritual power, while others associate it with ancient druidic ceremonies and pagan rituals. Our group decided to celebrate the upcoming summer solstice with a delightful picnic near the stones, a modern homage to the traditions of the past. As we dined amongst the towering megaliths, we exchanged stories of the paranormal and shared our love for these enigmatic structures.

(Image Source: Picnic at standing rock, © P.Laws June 2023)

Druidic Rituals

While at Avebury, we encountered a group of new-age pagan druids who were preparing for a pre-solstice ritual.  They were clad in flowing robes and carrying staffs adorned with symbols and we were fortunate enough to witness their ritual from afar. It was a reminder of the enduring spiritual connection people have with these ancient sites.

(Image Source: Druidic ceremony, © E.Holohan June 2023)

The Wishing Tree

After enjoying our picnic our group split into smaller bands who ventured out to explore different points of interest in Avebury. My band visited the Henge Shop to pick up some souvenirs of our trip and then ventured onwards again for a closer look at the stone circle and the set of venerable old trees said to have inspired J.R.R Tolkien’s ‘walking trees’ or Ents in “The Lord of the Rings”. We passed under the boughs of the wishing tree, where folk tie ribbons for wishes amongst its branches, and here also witnessed a handfasting ceremony.

(Image Source: Photo © Des Blenkinsopp (cc-by-sa/2.0)

As the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of this fine summer day, we left Avebury with a profound sense of wonder and connection to the past. Our journey had been a blend of history, folklore, and the paranormal, a testament to the enduring allure of these ancient sites. We may not have unravelled all their mysteries, but we left with a deep appreciation for the enduring power of these Neolithic wonders and also with a firm bond of friendship from our adventures within the stones.

(Image Source: The view from West Kennett Long Barrow, © E.Blackshaw June 2023)

Avebury’s rich history has captured the imaginations of many, and I believe that every visitor has a unique story to tell. Whether you’ve had a profound spiritual experience among the ancient stones or simply want to share your thoughts on the history and mysteries of Avebury, I invite you to join the conversation. Share your stories, thoughts, and insights with me today in the comments– together, we’ll continue to uncover the secrets of Avebury.

With thanks to Peter Laws (https://www.peterlaws.co.uk/), Owen Staton (Time Between Times: https://www.youtube.com/@TimebetweenTimes), Bethan Briggs-Miller (Eerie Essex https://www.buzzsprout.com/1827712), Emma Heard (Weird Wiltshire https://weird-wiltshire.co.uk/) Deborah Hyde (http://deborahhyde.com/), Melanie Hicks, Dr Delyth Badder ( The Folklore of Wales: Ghosts https://www.amazon.co.uk/Folklore-Wales-Ghosts-Delyth-Badder/dp/191527950X) , Gemma Oakley (https://www.alleyesthisway.com/), Dave Field, Aisling McCrudden and Ed Blackshaw.

References

An Eerie Encounter with the Dullahan’s Death Coach

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Lawrence Holohan and unknown young lady, possibly a granddaughter

When I was a teenager, still in high school, I became very interested in my Irish heritage and began tentatively researching my family tree. My grandfather was from Thomastown in County Kilkenny and married my grandmother after he met her in Norfolk while stationed there with the RAF. Sadly, he died quite young, only a few months before my mother was born. I think not knowing my grandfather was what made me even more determined to look into my Irish roots and the first port of call was talking to my grandaunt Phila, my grandfather’s younger sister. Phila was a fountain of family history knowledge, providing me with a family tree drawn from memory and writing down a few memories and stories about the relatives she remembered. One such story has intrigued me since and has led me to further research and create this blog post.

Lawrence Holohan was Phila’s grandpa, my 2nd great-grandfather. He was born in 1870 in Thomastown in the county of Kilkenny in Ireland. He lived in an area near Bennetsbridge, not far from Thomastown, called Newhouse. Records trace his ancestors back to this area at least until the turn of the 19th century.

My grandaunt wrote down quite a few of her memories about him, but the one that captivated me the most was this story, as follows:

“He was great for telling ‘ghost stories’. One I remember was of him walking home late one night, along a dark Irish lane, when he heard the sound of the local stagecoach coming. He stood aside to let it pass, but when it drew near, it was being driven by a ‘headless’ driver, so the story goes.”

Aunty Phila’s handwritten notes

Lawrence died in 1956 and Phila has also now sadly passed away, so I cannot find out any more information on this wonderful ghost story from them, however, I have been able to look into some of the folklore of Ireland concerning headless coach drivers and headless horsemen.

It seems that stories of the headless coach have some history in the Bennettsbridge area, as I found a story originating from there in the National Folklore Collection, UCD. This was located in their Schools’ Collection and was written by 13-year-old Mary Nolan of nearby Danesfort in 1938:

“Headless Coach

In ancient times the old Irish people believed in many mythical things. They believed in Fairies and the “Headless Coach” and many things like that.

It is said that people in those days saw the ‘Headless Coach’ and this is the description they have of it. The Coach was very big and there was supposed to be dead people on it. The horses that were drawing it had no heads and that is why it was called the ‘Headless Coach’.

In the middle of the night some people heard it and they said it came up the Bennetts – Bridge road and it went down the Stoneyford road and it stopped at the Protestant Church. The people did not know where it came from.

The Coach made great noise as it travelled. Old people say it has to pass along the same way every four years.

People long ago told many stories about the ‘Headless Coach’ and they were kept by tradition.”

Was this the same apparition that Lawrence saw on that lonely lane, making its way to take a soul? It sounds as if the Headless Coach was a regular visitor along the roads he would have walked as a young man and he would have grown up hearing stories of its deathly journeys.

Ireland is a land shrouded in rich folklore, where tales of otherworldly beings and ghostly spectres abound. Among the many fascinating and eerie stories, two figures stand out for their chilling presence and association with death: the Dullahan and the Cóiste Bodhar Death Coach.

The Dullahan: The Headless Horseman

Dullahan, the headless horseman via Wikipedia (Croker, Thomas Crofton (1834) “XXIX. The Headless Horseman” in Fairy legends and traditions of the south of Ireland, John Murray, p. 239)

In Irish legend, the Dúlachán or Dullahan is a terrifying figure, often referred to as the “Gan Ceann” or “Headless One.” This malevolent being is said to roam the countryside, heralding imminent death with his appearance. The Dullahan was thought to be a sign of death, similar to the folklore of the banshee. Unlike the Banshee, which is known to warn of a coming death in certain families, the Dullahan does not come just to warn; he is the harbinger of someone’s certain death.  The Dullahan is depicted as a headless horseman, carrying his detached head under his arm or holding it high up in the air. The head’s eyes are said to be constantly moving, peering into the distance and revealing the fate of those whose demise is drawing near.

The first mention of the Dullahan appears in Thomas Crofton Croker’s book Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland in 1828 and he is described as follows in the tale “The Headless Horseman”:

   ” ..such a head no mortal ever saw before. It looked like a large cream cheese hung round with black puddings: no speck of colour enlivened the ashy paleness of the depressed features; the skin lay stretched over the unearthly surface almost like the parchment head of a drum. Two fiery eyes of prodigious circumference, with a strange and irregular motion, flashed like meteors.”

Clothed in a tattered, black cloak, the Dullahan wielded a whip made from a human spine, which he used to strike fear into anyone who crossed his path. His horse’s hooves were said to spark flames as they gallop, leaving a sinister trail of fire in their wake. When the Dullahan stopped riding, it was believed that a soul was about to pass into the afterlife. It is claimed that witnesses would hear their name being called out, and if they looked back, they were destined to die.

Despite his forbidding demeanour, the Dullahan was said to be fearful of gold and would avoid areas where these precious metals are present. As a result, people would sometimes leave offerings of gold to protect themselves from the dreaded fate he carried.

Croker’s tale “The Headless Horseman” provides the best depiction of the Dullahan, presented with good humour. The protagonist of the story is Charley Culnane, who while out riding at night witnessed the apparition of a disembodied head of a horse ridden by the figure of a headless spectral rider:

“A figure, whose height (judging as well as the obscurity of the night would permit him) he computed to be at least eight feet, was seated on the body and legs of a white horse full eighteen hands and a half high … his vision failed in carrying him further than the top of the collar of the figure’s coat, which was a scarlet single-breasted hunting frock …]see further he could not, and after straining his eyes for a considerable time to no purpose, he exclaimed, with pure vexation, “By the big bridge of Mallow, it is no head at all he has!

“Look again, Charley Culnane, said a hoarse voice, that seemed to proceed from under the right arm of the figure.

Charley did look again, and now in the proper place, for he clearly saw, under the aforesaid right arm, that head from which the voice had proceeded, and such a head no mortal ever saw before.”

Surprisingly Charley then decided to challenge the headless horseman to a race, much to the delight of the ghostly rider:

“A hundred years it is since my horse and I broke our necks at the bottom of Kilcummer Hill, and ever since I have been trying to get a man that dared to ride with me, and never found one before.”

The horseman disappeared without taking Charley’s life and rewarded him with the promise of supernatural assistance in any future races in which Charley would take part.

There are also legends and tales concerning the “Headless Coach”, or in Irish Cóiste Bodhar, with its driver being the Dullahan.

The Cóiste Bodhar Death Coach: Harbinger of Doom

The Cóiste Bodhar, also known as the “Silent Coach” or “Death Coach”, is by legend a ghostly coach drawn by a team of headless, skeletal horses, and it travels silently through the night to collect the souls of the departed. Like the Dullahan, the Cóiste Bodhar is a harbinger of death and signals the end of a person’s life.

The sight of the Cóiste Bodhar is said to bring an eerie stillness to the surroundings as if nature itself is holding its breath. The coach is often described as being adorned with funereal symbols, and its windows are said to be draped in mournful black. Those who witness the spectral procession may be overcome with a sense of foreboding, as they know that someone’s demise is imminent.

In some versions of the tale, the Cóiste Bodhar is driven by a Dullahan, further intertwining the stories of these two chilling entities. According to WB Yeats in his book  Irish Fairy and Folk Tales (1893), the Dullahan drives the coach:

“This is a most gruesome thing. He has no head, or carries it under his arm. Often he is seen driving a black coach called coach-a-bower (Ir. Coite-bodhar), drawn by headless horses. It rumbles to your door, and if you open it a basin of blood is thrown in your face. It is an omen of death to the houses where it pauses. Such a coach not very long ago went through Sligo in the gray of the morning, as was told me by a sailor who believed he saw it. In one village I know its rumbling is said to be heard many times in the year.”

According to Croker, the Dullahan could be heard driving the Death Coach particularly hard on some nights when there were souls to be collected:

“The following account of the Dullahans and their coach was communicated to the writer by a lady resident in the neighbourhood of Cork:–

“They drive particularly hard wherever a death is going to take place. The people about here thought that the road would be completely worn out with their galloping before Mrs. Spiers died. On the night the poor lady departed they brought an immense procession with them, and instead of going up the road, as usual, they turned into Tivoli: the lodge-people, according to their own account, ‘were kilt from them that night.’ The coachman has a most marvellously long whip, with which he can whip the eyes out of anyone, at any distance, that dares to look at him. I suppose the reason he is so incensed at being looked at, is because he cannot return the compliment, ‘pon the ‘count of having no head. What a pity it is none but the Dullahans can go without their heads! Some people’s heads would be no loss to them, or anyone else.”

One compelling story by Croker concerning the Death Coach is that of “Hanlon’s Mill”. The protagonist Michael Noonan was walking back from Ballyduff, Co Cork from his trip to a shoemaker and passed the ruined mill of “Old Hanlon”. The ruin surprisingly seemed to be issuing clacking noises as if it were working away. Mick then met his neighbour Darby who asked him to take the horse and cart back. Mick passed by the River Awbeg and here noticed that the moon reflected on a pool of water had disappeared.  When he turned, he then saw, following beside his cart, a black coach drawn by six headless black horses, driven by a headless coachman clothed in black:

“How was Mick astonished at finding, close along-side of the car, a great high black coach drawn by six black horses, with long black tails reaching almost down to the ground, and a coachman dressed all in black sitting up on the box. But what surprised Mick the most was, that he could see no sign of a head either upon coachman or horses.”

The next morning, Mick received news from a local huntsman that Master Wrixon of Ballygibblin had died suddenly after a fit. So, according to legend, the appearance of the “Headless Coach” foreshadowed an imminent death once again.

Photo by u0410u043du0442u043eu043d u0425u0430u0442u043au0435u0432u0438u0447 on Pexels.com

Another interesting story occurred in 1876 in county Clare, collected by Thomas Johnson Westropp, in his 1910 “A Folklore Survey of County Clare”.  Here a servant for the MacNamara family of Ennistymon House was taking a stroll late at night when he heard the rumbling of wheels along the lane. Confused as to what vehicle would be out at such a late time of night, he then realised it must be the Cóiste Bodhar.

The servant then quickly ran and opened the three gates leading to Ennistymon House and threw himself face down on the ground as the death coach hurtled past him. Without stopping at Ennistymon House, it drove into the distance until it was out of sight and no longer heard. A day later news arrived that Sir Admiral Burton MacNamara had died in London.

Despite their fearsome reputation, the Dullahan and Cóiste Bodhar serve as a reminder of the ancient beliefs and superstitions that have shaped Irish culture. Did Lawrence Holohan really witness the Death Coach passing by on its solemn journey? Did it come to take the soul of a family member or friend of his? The answers are now lost in time. However, what we do know is that legend of the Dullahan and the Death Coach continues to captivate and frighten those who hear their eerie hoofbeats or the rumbling of wheels echoing in the darkness, making them two of the most enduring and haunting figures in Irish folklore.

Photo by Hakan Erenler on Pexels.com

I dedicate this post to my mother Susan Gayfer (01/06/1956-24/07/2023) who passed away suddenly and unexpectedly the on the day I finished writing the first draft and had been excited to read the finished product. She sadly did not live to read it.

References

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A Paranormal Night of Discovery at The Mount Without, Bristol

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Earlier this year I was lucky enough to secure tickets to a paranormal night of discovery event being held in the atmospheric venue that is ‘The Mount Without’. This was a two-part event hosted by the marvellous Dr Kate Cherrell. The first part of the event was an introduction to Victorian Spiritualism introduced by Kate and the second part of the event was a paranormal investigation, co-hosted by Kate and Jamaica Inn paranormal investigator Karin Beasant, giving attendees the chance to try their hand at experiments and contacting spirits from beyond the veil.

The Mount Without

Saint Michael the Archangel on the Mount Without is an impressive church standing proud on St Michael’s Hill, looking over the city of Bristol. The first church on this site was likely Norman and built in 1147 by Robert Fitzhamon, who is famed for also building Tewksbury Abbey. The church was originally built outside the city walls and was therefore known as “The Mount Without”. The original church was then rebuilt in 1460 and the clock tower you see now is from that period.

Over the years the city of Bristol slowly grew up and around the church, as St Michael’s Hill became more populated with merchants and other residents. By 1775-1777 the church became too small to take the growing congregation and so the main body of the church was demolished and rebuilt by local builder, Thomas Paty. Around this time new graves were also created in the crypt and tombstones reused as ‘under slabs’ for the new graves. As the living population of Bristol grew, so did the population of the dead interred at the Church.

During the second world war, the church was damaged twice during the Bristol Blitz. In 1940 a 1000lbs bomb fell within feet of the Church and in 1941 an incendiary device set the roof alight destroying it. The church was repaired and in use until 1999 but the congregation dwindled over the years and was finally closed by the diocese.

The church lay empty, until squatters moved in and set it ablaze in October 2016. The dramatic blaze took at least 15 fire engines and many firefighters to extinguish. I could see the smoke from the blaze billowing in the sky near my home not too far away.

In 2017 the diocese wanted to find a new use for the building and asked for design bids from businesses, philanthropists and entrepreneurs. The church was finally reclaimed as the creative venue and events space that we see now, where it hosts artists, music and holistic events. This wonderful gothic revival church has been a gathering place for the people of Bristol for over 900 years and looks set to continue with that legacy.

An Introduction to Victorian Spiritualism

The evening kicked off with the introduction to Victorian spiritualism talk by Dr Kate Cherrell. This was a fascinating, informative and entertaining talk introducing us to the strange world of Victorian spiritualism including its history and types of spirit contact made in the 19th century. This was brought to life with a slide show, props and Kate’s sharp humour. I personally enjoyed hearing about spirit trumpets, the Fox sisters of Hydesville and witnessing Kate’s ectoplasm demonstration.

Spirit trumpets for example, or ‘séance trumpets’, were metal cones placed in the centre of a table during a séance to amplify any sounds issuing forth from the spirit realm. Sometimes a spirit would speak through a medium, who would bring the trumpet to their mouth to speak through. What larks!

The Paranormal Investigation

The second half of the night was the paranormal investigation; a chance to have hands on experience of communing with the spirit world. This started off with investigator Karin explaining the various gadgets, devises and paraphernalia used in investigation; from EMF readers, spirit boxes and motion sensors to planchettes and Ouija boards.

We split up into two groups and my group started off in the crypt with some table tipping. I’d never tried table tipping before, so this was all new to me. Table tipping is a form of psychic phenomenon in which a table can tilt, rise, wobble or rotate by the contact of the fingertips of individuals. It is a form of séance where sitters place their fingertips on the table and the table move without conscious muscular force. By relating the tilts to the alphabet or yes/no directions it is said to become possible to receive messages from beyond the veil.

We stood around a tall thin table with our finger tips gently rested on the top while Kate called out questions. It appeared that a religious man took a particular interest in talking to me and Kate asked him questions about his life before death. The table tilted and wobbled in answer to her queries, indicating he was originally from the north, had come to Bristol and stayed her while his family went to the New World. It was unclear if he had worked at the church or had just been a member of the congregation.

After the table tipping, we moved on to conduct a séance. For this we sat around a table with a spirit box and EMF readers on top, with shadow sensors dotted around the room near us. A bible was placed on the table also and we linked hands as a member of the group read a passage out from Corinthians. The hope was that we could invoke the spirits of this holy building by reading passages from the bible, triggering one of the various sensors. There were some beeps and possible triggering of sensors, but nothing too striking for me to note during this séance.

Next up, we headed upstairs in to the Nave of the church where we tried the planchette without much activity. The hope was that we would see some automatic writing. We all placed our fingers on the planchette and asked the spirits to move the planchette across the board, bringing messages from the other side. There was a small amount of movement, but not much unfortunately.

Following this we tried the “Estes Method”. The Estes method is where an investigator wears a blind fold to limit visual stimulation and also wears noise cancelling headphones connected to a sprit box; a device that is used to scan through radio frequencies and it is believed to be a communication tool between the spirit realm and the world of the living.  While the investigator is listening to the spirit box, other members of the group call out to the spirits with questions. The blindfolded investigator will call out any ‘answers’ coming through the headphones from the spirit box.  The idea is that the sensory deprivation eliminates any stimuli that could influence the blindfolded investigator.

In our experiment we sat in a circle near the alter, all wearing blind folds. One person had the spirit box and headphones. One person sat in the centre of the room dressed in an old-fashioned dress near the shadow sensors. We called out questions and for the spirts to touch someone.  After this some other ladies took it in turns to wear the old-fashioned dresses and sit in the centre of the room with the spirit box and a pal of mine in vintage style clothes also took his turn. We called out questions and even religious phrases in Latin to try to call for messages from the spirits. A few words were called out by the person with the spirit box including “like music” and other refences to music a few times.

To finish off we all sat in a circle where the chairs were positioned with one seat inside the circle and the next out.  One person sat at the altar, while other members called out to the spirits to approach and communicate.  The lady at the alter felt a cold spot next to her and a shadow sensor went off ahead of it. She said she felt like a hand was resting on her head at one point. Was this the spirits coming close to her or psychological suggestion?

I noted that the questions asked to the spirits often led to the Reverend William Knight. The Reverend Knight was a long serving rector of the parish, serving for almost sixty years before retiring in 1875. He died 3 years later and was buried in the church crypt. Could this have been him placing reassuring hand on the young lady’s head? There is also the story that a male figure has been seen looking out of the door near nave in past. Could this be the Reverend keeping a watchful eye over his beloved church even after death?

All in all, this was a fascinating and enjoyable night; from the whistle stop introductory talk based around Victorian spiritualism, to the hands-on experience of trying out paranormal investigation techniques. For me there was not enough activity to indicate that the spirits of the dead lurk in ‘The Mount’, waiting to communicate with the living. However, this location is steeped in history and atmosphere, so no doubt further investigation could prove me wrong. Perhaps on a late-night walk home past the Mount, I too one day will spot a dark figure looking out from the nave as I pass by.

With thanks to The Mount, Dr Kate Cherrell and Karin Beasant.

References:

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