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First Hand Accounts of Supernatural Activity...
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GGHOSTLY GOINGS-ON
A TIMEWARP mansion in the Cotswolds is finally yielding up its spooky secrets. Ghostly gothic Woodchester Mansion, near Stroud, has long been famous for its hauntings, both inside and outside the magnificent building. Now brave-hearted members of the Association for the Scientific Study of Anomalous Phenomenon have been holding night-time vigils inside to monitor supernatural activity. Although no ghosts have been sighted, a bell has been heard ringing in an empty tower and the hands on a clock which had been stopped for repair have moved.
The trust's chief executive Mr David Price said the supernatural investigators had, had an unnerving time. "All the ladies with long hair later said they experienced it being tugged at, " he said. "The day after the visit our caretaker Andy Fryer was working and suddenly all the lights in the house came on, but there was no one there. There have been a few odd things happening that are difficult to explain.”
Woodchester Mansion was designed by the Victorian architect Benjamin Bucknall for wealthy landowner William Leigh but never finished. Even the Victorian craftsmen's tools were left in the building. Built out of golden limestone, its incomplete state has provided a unique insight into how such mansions were constructed.
During World War Two, Woodchester Park was used as a training ground for US soldiers and in the spring of 1944 a pontoon bridge collapsed under the weight of armoured vehicles, killing several GIs. Two colleagues claimed they had seen an angel hovering over the area shortly before the tragedy and in the 1950s a cine cameraman claimed to have caught the white apparition on film. The mansion is now run by the Woodchester Mansion Trust, which was founded in 1989 to conserve the building for future generations. It is used to provide courses in stonemasonry and will reopen to the public at Easter and will welcome visitors each weekend until the end of September.
25/01/2002 Bristol Evening Post.
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A-HAUNTING AT HUNTSHAM
I DON'T believe in ghosts and if I ever saw one I would probably have a heart attack and join him or her on the other side but driving through the Devon village of Huntsham, near Tiverton, the other day, brought back memories of a strange and unexplained happening. Many years ago I received a call from a young couple who had bought a big farmhouse just outside the village. They claimed to be haunted by a poltergeist, which threw things around the room, moved small ornaments during the night, and generally terrorised them.
One phenomenon happened when they went to bed - the husband (a very sensible fellow who worked in a local estate agent's office) was apparently possessed by whatever strange being was sharing their home.
His wife found it difficult to explain what happened - they were newly-wed, and she felt that everyone she related the story to, appeared to be putting a rather smutty slant on it.
Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more sort of things but according to her, her poor husband often became comatose within minutes of going to bed. He would lie beside her in the double bed, his eyes open but unable to move. This strange behaviour would last up to half an hour and each time it happened the poltergeist had been at work downstairs, moving the furniture.
To cut a long story short, we used the story of their experiences in the newspaper and it was picked up by a couple of Sunday tabloids, which did exactly what the young woman feared - used lurid headlines and descriptive prose, based more on their newly-wed status and supposed bedroom activities, rather than on a serious ghost story. The couple eventually fled the house, and it remained empty for some months.
One November evening I was travelling to Tiverton, when my passenger asked if he could see the house where it all happened. We headed for the lane outside Huntsham, and as we travelled up the road towards the house, we saw all the lights were on but there were no curtains at the windows.
Suddenly my car came to a halt. The engine was running, it was in gear, it didn't stall. It just stopped. The road was flat but it felt as though we were pushing against a giant obstacle in the road.
I switched the engine off and on again, several times, used first gear and tried to move towards the house but the car was not having any of it.
Eventually, we had to get out of the vehicle and turn the car around by pushing it. We travelled back down the road at high speed, leaving the haunted house behind us. Although I cannot explain what happened to my car that night I don't believe it was a ghost. Was the house really haunted? I have never been back to find out.
Mervyn Hancock 08/07/2002 It’s Monday!
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GGHOSTLY GOINGS-ON
A TIMEWARP mansion in the Cotswolds is finally yielding up its spooky secrets. Ghostly gothic Woodchester Mansion, near Stroud, has long been famous for its hauntings, both inside and outside the magnificent building. Now brave-hearted members of the Association for the Scientific Study of Anomalous Phenomenon have been holding night-time vigils inside to monitor supernatural activity. Although no ghosts have been sighted, a bell has been heard ringing in an empty tower and the hands on a clock which had been stopped for repair have moved.
The trust's chief executive Mr David Price said the supernatural investigators had, had an unnerving time. "All the ladies with long hair later said they experienced it being tugged at, " he said. "The day after the visit our caretaker Andy Fryer was working and suddenly all the lights in the house came on, but there was no one there. There have been a few odd things happening that are difficult to explain.”
Woodchester Mansion was designed by the Victorian architect Benjamin Bucknall for wealthy landowner William Leigh but never finished. Even the Victorian craftsmen's tools were left in the building. Built out of golden limestone, its incomplete state has provided a unique insight into how such mansions were constructed.
During World War Two, Woodchester Park was used as a training ground for US soldiers and in the spring of 1944 a pontoon bridge collapsed under the weight of armoured vehicles, killing several GIs. Two colleagues claimed they had seen an angel hovering over the area shortly before the tragedy and in the 1950s a cine cameraman claimed to have caught the white apparition on film. The mansion is now run by the Woodchester Mansion Trust, which was founded in 1989 to conserve the building for future generations. It is used to provide courses in stonemasonry and will reopen to the public at Easter and will welcome visitors each weekend until the end of September.
25/01/2002 Bristol Evening Post.
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GHOSTBUSTERS AND POLTERGEISTS
A SOUTH Bristol family plagued by paranormal activity at their home have appealed for a team of ghostbusters to rid them of their poltergeists. The TV and computers have been known to switch themselves on and off regularly, crockery has flown out of cupboards, doors have been locked from the inside and pictures have rearranged themselves in different frames. Now the family say they have had enough of living in their "haunted house".
The family, who do not wish to be identified, reached the end of their tether when their 14-year-old daughter was allegedly overcome by a murderous spirit who tried to make her kill her younger sister. The child was so disturbed by the incident that she required hospital treatment. Now they have appealed to Living TV's Scream Team for help.
The six-strong ghostbusting team, led by 30-year-old Sheyla Shehovicis, who was born in Sarajevo, have visited the 1920s semi-detached suburban home to investigate and try to rid it off its paranormal activity.
Ms Shehovicis, who has scoured the country in search of haunted houses for the paranormal reality show, said the Bristol assignment was the most "freakish and frightening" they had covered. She said: "Before we went in, the team was very much on edge because our other investigations had involved witchcraft or ghosts. "Poltergeists are more difficult to comprehend because they move things around and create some very weird experiences. We felt some very powerful things inside that house."
Although the team did not see a poltergeist, they experienced some peculiar incidents. Scream Team member Becky Kitter, 24, said: "One of the camera crew came whizzing out of the house screaming in panic because they heard a loud crackling in their ear. "I walked into a bedroom and felt like I was having a heart attack. The pain spread across my chest and I began fearing for my health." A psychic who accompanied the team said he could see a woman on the bed who had died of a heart attack.
Further inspection uncovered even more sinister happenings. Fluctuating temperatures around the house paled into insignificance when one team member spotted the face of a ghostly old woman. Becky said: "I was glad to get out of there. It was the weirdest thing I have encountered.
The house was not right, it wasn't a good place to be." Ms Shehovicis said she sympathised with the family because they had been suffering for two years.
She said: "They have learned to live with it but they are desperate to get rid of the presence. They were scared about bringing us in to try to get rid of it in case it didn't work and the being became more angry."
OLIVIER VERGNAULT 08/10/2002 Bristol evening Post.
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WOULD YOU SPEND A NIGHT ALONE AT ASHTON COURT?
There could only be one thing scarier than spending the night at Ashton Court alone and that was spending the night there with something. I had first visited Ashton Court mansion in the sunshine of a crisp winter day. The prospect of a solitary night in the darkest, spookiest part of the house did not seem too daunting. Chris Wood, the manager and sole human resident of the estate, jokingly called me one "mad Frenchman" for even considering what I was about to do. By way of warning me against any of the spectres that reputedly lurk in the mansion's corridors, he recounted the bloody history of the place, and some of the rather spooky incidents he has experienced in the 12 years he has worked on the estate. "There is a lot of history to the place, and surely a lot of people have died here." said Chris, ominously.
He gave me the grand tour of the house, pausing each time to point out a cornice here or intriguing piece of woodwork there. He gave me a potted history of the mansion, which is thought to have Saxon origins and which was bought by the city council in 1960 and later restored. But in almost every room, he paused, grinned, and told me about the spirits which remained in the shadows, like beings looking for redemption but forever trapped in limbo. He talked of a headless horseman who rides the estate on moonlit nights, of ladies in grey floating through locked doors and of footsteps heard at night. Chris told me of the ghostly black dogs which had terrified his own dog one night and of the uneasy sensation workers on the estate sometimes felt, as if someone - or something - was watching unseen.
I asked him if he himself had experienced anything out of the ordinary. "Apart from the odd footsteps heard at strange times of the day and night, I've never actually seen a ghost." he said. "I do remember one incident not long after I first arrived on the estate. One night I heard one of the windows of the Clock Tower slam against the woodwork even though it was a windless night. I had it nailed shut the day after but the following night the nails were pulled out and the window banged open once more. Again, I had the window nailed shut and again it was opened and slammed. Similar incidents happened over three months but on the last occasion before it stopped, the window had been secured with screws and ropes. That night the rope and screws were forced once more and the window smashed. It stopped after that, as though the house had finally accepted me."
I decided that because of the extraordinary events witnessed in the Clock Tower, this was where I ought to spend my night. I left the estate that day, my head full of stories but not being a believer, I just smiled and told myself these were just tales to scare children and tourists.
However, when I returned at midnight a week later armed with a sleeping bag, a thin mattress (ghost hunting need not be uncomfortable) warm clothes and my trusty Maglite torch, the smile was long gone. Looking up at the impressive Clock Tower, it dawned on me that perhaps the whole escapade was not such a good idea. The house is imposing enough during the day but at night it took on an altogether sinister air.
Chris, who had deactivated the mansion's alarm system so I wouldn't trigger it should I flee in terror, helpfully reminded me of his ghost stories just in case I was feeling too confident. It was then he told me of the latest ghostly goings-on. Chris said: "Three days after your visit, I was sitting at my desk in my office upstairs. It must have been 3:00pm when suddenly my chair shook violently, as if someone had grabbed my chair from behind and given it a serious push. I nearly fell off. I thought this was an earthquake so I ran downstairs, where a function was being held, to ask if everybody was all right. They just looked at me like I was the village idiot. They hadn't felt anything at all." If the other fantastic tales of headless riders, floating women in grey or mysterious footsteps and black dogs had not scared me even a little, now I felt like going back to my car and driving home as fast as possible. But putting on a not-very-brave face, I climbed the treacherous spiral staircase to the Clock Room, where I laid down my mattress and set up camp.
Chris left me there alone, returning to his own quarters on the other side of the house, far enough away not to hear me should I scream with fright. He returned briefly with a bright yellow hard hat and also lent me a hand-sized panic alarm. "That's the last resort but if you freak out or something happens, press the button and all hell will break loose. The alarm will ring, the lights will go on and the police and fire brigade will turn up." I attempted to sleep, torch in one hand and the alarm button reassuringly close by. I curled up inside my sleeping bag, my back facing the dark hole which served as a door. Although I did not believe any ghosts, spectre or ghouls would be coming to get me, I covered my face inside the sleeping bag, leaving only a small opening to breathe. If I did not believe, I certainly did not want to see, either but why bother covering your eyes when the sounds can be just as frightening?
Within an hour of Chris's departure, the creaking noises started. I didn't worry too much at first because such creaks are normal in any old house composed of much timber. But soon I could hear footsteps in the neighbouring room. Then they grew louder. And closer. I was so tense I forgot to breathe. My imagination began to run riot.
The steps grew louder still, what should I do? Leap from my sleeping bag to cuff the intruder around the head with a rolled up copy of the Evening Post or stay put and hope whatever it was went away? I could visualise the headless horseman, the lady in grey, the ghostly dogs and the phantom of Sir John in his cape and top hat - another of Ashton Court's otherworldly residents - and so decided on the latter, less heroic, option. The steps retreated, only to grow louder a few minutes later. It sounded like someone was pacing the corridor rather than climbing the stairs. Whatever it was still sounded too close for comfort.
I hardly slept a wink after that. I was too terrified and justly so for the footsteps returned again during the small hours. Twice I thought about reaching for the panic button, but it lay outside the sleeping bag and I dared not make any noise for fear of attracting attention. Despite all that, I must have dozed off for the next thing I know, a light was being shone in my face and a cup of coffee placed in my hand. "You all right there, mate?" asked a voice. It was 7.30am and the cleaner, who had been warned of my presence, had crept up to see if I had survived my ordeal. I didn't see any ghosts but hearing footsteps in the night was more than enough to convince me. As for returning to Ashton Court and spending another night on a ghost hunt, I don't think so. I'm still getting over the nightmares from my first visit.
Oliver Vergnault 27/12/2002 Bristol Evening Post.
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