Burning question

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I admit I am no expert on the subject of mediums, but like any true fortean I watch their demonstrations with a dispassionate eye whenever they appear on my screen. However, over the years I have found their performances to be uniformly disappointing – not just because of their egregious use of common cold reading techniques, but because of their failure to address one blindingly obvious and supremely important question.

It seems to me that if they could truly communicate with someone’s dead relative, they should not be wasting everybody’s time by kind-of describing what the deceased was like and what they enjoyed while they were alive before delivering some bland platitude about how they are at peace now and are sending their love to the sitter in the audience. They should instead be asking the departed spirit the one question that only the dead can answer and which is arguably the most important question for humankind: Is there a God?

If the answer to that question is Yes, then the next question is: Which religion is correct? Should I immediately become a Sikh, a Sunni Muslim, a Catholic, a Buddhist, a Shintoist, a Zoroastrian, a Presbyterian even, or should I follow one of the thousands of other

religions in the world? Wouldn’t it be absolutely delicious if it turned out that we should all have been following some heretical sect that was stamped out in the Middle Ages? However, I digress.

Some mediums might argue, as they often seem to do, that they can’t be as specific as everyone would like because the spirits only communicate to them via vague images and feelings. But if they can tell that uncle John (or is it James?) worked with his hands, enjoyed watching sports, and died from something to do with his chest area, then surely it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the dearly departed to send them an image of a crucifix, a star of David, or whatever image is appropriate in order to indicate which religion we should all be following. And a simple yes or no is all that is required for the existence of God. Their inability or reluctance to address this most burning of questions confirms their charlatanism in my eyes.

Now, I must admit that I have not done any in-depth research at this point – I whipped up this missive somewhat on the spur

of the moment – so perhaps there are many mediums across the world who have professed that one or other of the gods do exist and that we should all be following this or that religion. In fact, I’d be surprised if some haven’t. However, I suspect that if their answers were compared, they would not all be singing from the same hymn-sheet. If mediumship were indeed true, and a surprisingly large number of gifted individuals really could communicate with the dead, then I would argue that either they would all be staunch atheists or fervently devout followers of the same religion, depending on what the spirits of the dead revealed to them “from the other side”. Is there a flaw in my reasoning?

Scott Wilson

Glasgow

More Calverton Ghosts

I would like to thank Aaron Bulley for his letter about ghosts in Calverton, Nottinghamshire [ FT406:71] and add a few more local sightings. I grew up in

Calverton in the 1970s and 1980s and went to the local comprehensive school, where Mrs Hoyle, the vicar’s wife, taught religious education. If she felt we had made enough progress with five world religions, we would get a lesson in local history, which included several ghosts.

The ghost sighted on George’s Hill was also said to haunt Bonner Hill and Spindle Lane, a bridleway connecting the two hills. It was at that time described as a tall man in a tall hat, black cloak and buckled shoes (think Puritan?). Further down George’s Lane, a lady was visiting her friend when an ornamental teapot floated down diagonally from a dresser, landing undamaged at the visitor’s feet.

The old vicarage on Main Street, known as Calverton Old Hall, was demolished in the early 1960s to make way for the Miners’ Welfare, now also demolished and replaced with housing known as Old

Hall Close. Two workmen were being put up at the new vicarage by the Hoyles while demolition work was taking place at the Old Hall. They reported being disconcerted by the sound of the chinking of crockery, as if tea was being served in china cups, and later fled the worksite after hearing heavy footsteps crossing an upstairs room where the floor had already been removed.

Little Tommy, either a dwarf or a small boy, haunted Main Street in front of Burnor Pool, a group of cottages opposite St Wilfrid’s Church. Children in the 1950s and 1960s would cross Main Street to avoid the spectre of a little old lady in black who had been seen on Main Street in front of the Old Hall/Miners’ Welfare. It was said that if she touched you on the shoulder, you would die. What those children who crossed over to avoid the little old lady didn’t know was that there was a murder victim mouldering away in one of the gardens next to the playing field – but that’s another story.

The directions in Aaron Bulley’s letter are a bit confusing – if you have reached the winding, uphill part of George’s Lane you are leaving the village rather than entering it. If anyone would like to visit the locations of these sightings, follow Calverton Road out of Arnold, go over Dorket Head and down George’s Hill. A right turn at the bottom of George’s Lane takes you down Main Street and Bonner Hill is on the right, a short way past the church.

Kay Lowe

Arnold, Nottinghamshire

Further strange episodes

My mother’s family came from Mullingar in southern Ireland, and in the late 1950s she used to take my sister and me for three to four weeks in the summer. My father would follow on later. My grandparents had a farmhouse just outside the town. One evening when I was aged about six we had gone to visit my aunt who lived a 10-minute walk from my grandparents. I decided to walk back to the farmhouse. I crossed a vast field and reached the driveway to the farmhouse. The driveway was quite long, 80 to 100 feet (24-30m). There was a solid high hedge to my left and farm buildings to my right. I must have walked half way down when something stepped out from the hedge and stood in front of me. It had a human shape, but I recall large fox-like ears and bright yellow eyes. We seemed to look at each other for ages. Then it moved towards me. I screamed and ran. When I got back to the farmhouse, I was hysterical with fear. Many years later I saw illustrations of an entity called a Pooka in a book on Irish folklore. Some of these resembled the creature I had seen.

• A couple of years later, when I was eight, I had another memorable encounter in Mullingar. It was a beautiful summer’s day in 1960 and my two cousins and I were off having adventures. It was midday and we were skirting a vast green field. One of my cousins noticed a circular grid cover. Puzzled why there was a grid in a rather remote fififield, my cousins decided to lift the lid. There were two metal rings so this was quite easy to do. As soon as the cover was put to one side a large spider came out. Its body was bright red and all its extremities bright yellow. It looked like some bizarre toy. It seemed aggressive and darted back and forth at us with its front legs held high. One of my cousins got a stick and held it towards the creature, which ran at it and appeared to try and hold the stick with its two front legs. Eventually the spider retreated back underground. We quickly replaced the cover and ran off feeling rather perturbed.

• In the winter of 1961 my grandmother became gravely ill and my mother went over to Ireland to be with her. She had been gone four or five days when I was upstairs in bed (in Flint, North Wales). I turned the light off to go to sleep when suddenly there were three loud knocks on my bedroom window. I lay there terrified for hours. By noon the next day we had a telegram from my mother telling us that grandmother had died. Many years later I read of the Irish spirit called a Banshee, which sometimes announced death by knocking on windows.

In the summer of 1962, when I was 10, my sister and I had been helping our father in the garden in Flint, North Wales. It was late afternoon and as a reward my father suggested we walk up to Nan’s and he would buy us some sweets. Nan was a close family friend who ran the corner shop at the top of the road. She used to own the shop with her sister, but her sister had died the previous year. We got there just after 5pm and the shop was shut. We could hear Nan in the storeroom at the back, so my father suggested we go through the side gate and see if she would sell us some sweets. At the rear of the shop there was a double door to the storeroom, which was wide open.

Although the day was still bright an electric light was on inside. We could hear Nan moving about and occasionally speaking. Then she came into sight briefly as she walked from right to left. She was followed by a dark fluid shape moving slowly. It had substance because I recall that when it moved under the electric light it cast a shadow. Then it was gone. We could hear Nan saying something; by the inflflflection in her voice it seemed to be a question. There was a pause then a chillingly strange voice said “No, I’m never cold.” The shape came back into view and Nan followed it. The shape became still and Nan walked into it. Nan’s image seemed to shimmer for a few seconds, then Nan moved again taking the shape with her. Then we could hear her crying. My father silently indicated we should leave.

When we got home my mother was very upset. A sparrowhawk had become caught in the garden netting that covered the strawberry patch. My father held the terrified bird while my mother cut it free. It circled us for ages, giving out its amazing cry. When I looked, my parents were holding hands. Stephen Roberts

Levens, Cumbria

Biro trick

I was slumbering during the last hour or so before getting up when I imagined a snatch of a scene and so took out pen and paper to record it. As I did so, I knocked the cap off the pen.

I searched for it in the folds of the dressing gown I wear in bed in the winter, its pockets, the duvet, the floor, and under the bed (in case it bounced oddly). I actually got up and searched the floor. Giving up, I went to my desk to procure another biro. Imagine my surprise when the biro I removed from its pot had two caps, one on each end. I have no memory of doing this in the past, never mind of doing it now. I went back to my bed and looked again only to find the cap on the dark, obscuring foot of my bedside lamp, which is about 3ft (1.2m) off the ground. While nothing paranormal had taken place, it had a charming sense of the imp or HermesTrickster about it.

Simon van Someren

London

“Suddenly there were three loud knocks on my bedroom window”

World on hold

I was a postman working at the main Royal Mail depot in Reading. One day in 1990 or 1991, I was working in the loading bay, sorting mailbags. One trailer was full, so I wheeled it inside to the sorting area. I manoeuvred it into position and chained up the handle. Then something strange happened. It was as if a video player was put on pause. Time froze. All sound stopped and everyone froze in place. They looked like waxwork dummies. I looked around incredulously, and noticed one other person doing the same. Our eyes met, and as soon as they did it was as if someone pressed the ‘play’ button. A sea of sound resumed and people moved, carrying on as if nothing had happened. The ‘pause’ probably lasted a few seconds, but seemed longer.

Shocked, I walked back to the loading bay and tried to compose myself. The other person who didn’t freeze was a most beautiful girl with long blond hair. I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside and speak to her; my heart was pounding and I had butterflflflies in my stomach. I caught sight of her in the canteen the next day, but didn’t get the opportunity to talk to her. To my deepest regret, I never saw her again.

Eric Fairman

Reading, Berkshire

Running through treacle

Around 1975, when I was about eight, I was coming home from school in Bletchley, Buckinghamshire, with several friends (with mothers walking behind). We were running ahead trying to be first to the corner of the road as it turned left and went down the hill. I was in the lead and had just entered the bend when all of a sudden it was like running through treacle. My legs were running in slow motion and I couldn’t speed up. It was like a beam from above was just on me and it took all my strength to move at all. Indeed, I slowed so much my companions shot past me on the inside. They weren’t affected at all. I remember feeling panicky. Then just as suddenly, after a few seconds, I “came out the other end”, and sped right up again. I had only travelled about 15m ( 50ft). No one else had noticed anything amiss and must have assumed I was just mucking around. Nothing like it has ever happened again. Cathy Peake

London

Sizewell Shuck

While looking for glow-worms (a scarce and declining creature) with my sister Vicky Quantrill at Sizewell, Suffolk (pictured below), on 17 July 2021, we were reminded of Black Shuck, the demon ghost dog of East Anglia. Seeing Shuck is traditionally said to foreshadow an impending demise. Walking past Sizewell B nuclear reactor, we were spooked by a black dog the size of a large collie standing behind us. It was similarly surprised, made no sound and ran off towards Minsmere. Nothing too odd, we thought, just a stray dog. However, its appearance was accompanied by two loud whistles from someone nearby. I whistled back to get the dog to return, but it disappeared into bushes. We expected the whistling person to pass by and ask us where their dog had gone; but on checking the beach we were apparently alone. No sign of anyone. Just who were the mysterious, unseen whistler and the silent black dog?

An earlier unexplained experience I had on a glowworm survey in Essex in 2014 was reported in your pages [ FT323: 74].

Tim Gardiner

By email

My late wife calls

Re ‘Phone calls from the dead’ [ FT405: 30-35]: about a month ago [in April 2021], my mother heard her old mobile phone ring. The phone, which had not been used for at least four years, was an old cheap pre-Smartphone type, capable of making calls and sending texts and little else. I was in the room with her when it rang. We were both very surprised as the battery in the phone had run out a long time ago. Our surprise turned to shock when we saw the screen light up, showing the call was from my wife – who had died over five years ago. The phone then went totally dead and we could not recharge it. What was equally strange was my mother hardly ever used this phone; it was bought to be kept in her car in case of breakdowns. She told me that my wife had never contacted her on it and she had definitely not given her the number. This strange call un-nerved us both very much. Hugh Morris

Little Downham, Cambridgeshire

Unsettling

A particular stretch of road where I live has often struck me as having an unsettling atmosphere. This I feel has been corroborated by two experiences. The first occurred some years ago when I was walking to my local supermarket with my eldest son, a teenager at the time. At the easterly end of the stretch of road in question a car was parked, surrounded by a group of around 10 youths. My son had also seen it and commented: “I don’t know why they hang around cars like that.” When we both looked again, only a moment later, there was no car and no youths.

The second experience occurred relatively recently. At a certain point, the footpath narrows and is restricted in width by a roadside telecoms cabinet and a stout metal fence opposite, so that it is sometimes necessary to give way to pedestrians approaching from the opposite direction. I had done just that, as what appeared to be a family were approaching, a man, a woman and two identically dressed girls whom I guessed were around 12 years old. The two adults passed and one of the girls. I waited for the second to pass, but it became apparent there was no second girl.

I wonder whether, in line with popular theories, the ‘strangeness’ of this particular stretch is because the area has a high water table and runs parallel with a railway line, a source of high voltage. Only a thought.

Andrew Braeman

Lancing, West Sussex