Getting Into The Spirit Of Things

Halloween has to be my favourite time of year, I don’t like Christmas at all, I’m not that ecstatic about birthdays (hoorah your older, you’re nearer your deathbed – huff), Easter is great for chocolate but does anyone actually celebrate it for what it’s really about? I quite like Pancake Day, I don’t mind Bonfire Night, and I love Halloween.

Come to my flat and you will find the whole collection of Most Haunted on DVD (if anyone makes a disparaging remark about Yvette or the show please knob off – lol) I have even been on one of Most Haunted Live (I used my journalistic wiles) and stalked Yvette, well hounded her for an interview in the latest edition of Bent. She was freaking fabulous. To cut a long story short, I love everything spooky, ghostly or horrid and when is a better celebration of all things that go bump in the night (I’ll allow the dirty minded of you a snigger there, because I just had one) than Halloween. Even if I am not going out I get a little bit dressed for the occasion, hence the Zombie face pack, I either make sure am at some fabulous fancy dress party, or like tonight make sure I have a good short scary story (Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black is one of my favourites) my favourite Most Haunted or a good scary film and a rather large Witches Brew or seven.

However back to ghosts… I have always been fascinated by what is ‘out there’ have I had anything spooky happen to me? Kind of. There was a Ouija Board incident back when I was 14, where I wasn’t involved and my first stepdads name was spelt out and no one would have known his middle names. Now if I told you about how I found him dead aged ten (no lie) that would probably creep you all out a little too much, I’ll leave that for my autobiography maybe so moving on…

Back when I lived in Stratford we had a really nice house where nothing happened to me but it did to my flat mate Jenny, she was woken up with voices, arguments on the landing outside my bedroom, which I never heard, and once a huge slap across the face which actually left a print. Our landlord eventually sold the property and moved us somewhere else which I can only say had the most ominous feeling ever, which only got worse when Jason (not THE Jason from the films lol) moved in.

Jason was obsessed with his dead Grandmother, absolutely obsessed. There were pictures, including ones of her when she was dying in hospital, all around his room as well as her old jewellery, antiques and the like. From the week he moved in there was a weird vibe in the house, not in just a ‘sensitive gay’ way but a genuinely horrid atmosphere had come from nowhere, friends at the time who visited would say it was creepy but only downstairs, only in the rooms leading off Jason’s room. It became a bit of a joke; we blamed the Grandmother, something I came to regret.

About a month later I was all alone in the flat happily sat upstairs sorting my cd’s when I heard bands and crashes, I thought one of the other housemates was home and thought nothing more of it. The crashes started again and slightly worried someone had had an accident I went down to look, no one was there I had thought I’d seen something scuttle through the conservatory which had a walled in door that lead to the garden and worried I was being burgled suddenly had a butch moment and went to look. Nothing. I thought it must be the neighbours and carried on faffing around.

The noises stared again. I called out, nothing, more noises, I banged on the neighbours wall, and it stopped. Ten minutes later a definite smash from the kitchen, so I went down. Now when you came down the stairs there was a mirror which meant you could see the kitchen because of the angle of the wall it was on. As I came down the stairs my heart leapt into my mouth as looking at me in the mirror with what can only be described as scorn was a little old lady. I won’t lie; I screamed, ran upstairs and locked my door. Not until one of the other housemates was in the building for definite did I come down, and when I did several smashed glasses lay on the kitchen floor. I never mentioned it to Jason and bizarrely he moved out, leaving us in the shit, two days later, he did a late night flit.

Now some of you will think I was drunk, must be delusional or could have made it up. I promise you I didn’t and the fear I felt that night showed plainly to everyone. I was a random Wednesday, not Halloween nothing, and I don’t even think it was Jason’s Grandmother, all I know is I saw what I saw and once I had calmed down the fascination and a spark of belief began and its grown. I even did my first ghost hunt this year which I wrote about in a previous blog. This is something that I want to continue doing (frankly I want Yvette Fielding’s job) and will be doing again for charity on the 15th of November.

Yes in just over two weeks time myself and three other unlucky volunteers (Polly, Michelle and Mr B) who are becoming my ‘Scream Team’ are spending a whole night in a plague pit in The London Tombs, all to raise money for St John’s Ambulance. Now I have been through the place twice already with a torch in daylight and have been quiet uneasy so a whole night partaking in things which should call the ghosts there (and seriously you should hear the stories, people being pushed downstairs, people being followed, dark figures, I could go on) it will be petrifying.

Now I hate to get the begging bowl out but I will as hopefully you are all ‘in the spirit’ of Halloween and ghostly goings on and beg, plead, sell my soul to the devil for you to sponsor us. We have a very high target and so want to do the charity proud so please even if it’s just a fiver visit www.justgiving.com/theghoulies I don’t do the whole charity begging think hardly ever and so it would mean a lot.

So do any of you have any spooky stories to share (that I can creep the team out with on the 15th)? If so let me know, I shall now leave you with the wish you all have a very Happy Halloween and something spooky happens to one and all!