‘Fifty-five people were hanged during the jail’s history’
Boudicca Fox-Leonard explores the haunted happenings of Bodmin Jail, Cornwall
‘Do you ever wish you could go back to a particular period of the jail’s history?” “I do.”
“Which part?”
“No, I do go back. I connect to it all the time.”
I am at 242-year-old Bodmin Jail with paranormal manager Kirsten Honey, who is giving me a tour of what was once Cornwall’s most feared building. With bright red hair and a laugh like a tremulous ghost, all “Whooohooohoo”, she’s definitely the spookiest thing I’ve seen thus far.
Four nights weekly, Honey hosts After Dark sessions that last a whopping six hours; what begins with a history tour evolves into a lights-out exploration of the senses, with transfigurations until 3am. It’s undoubtedly atmospheric but, she says, Bodmin is just as haunted during the day as at night. “Lights on, lights off. Day and night it is active. It haunts,” she says with another whoohooohoo.
Good, because I’m here on a blindingly bright Monday afternoon, crisp and cold, and I’m hoping to have my first taste of the paranormal. The energy today is “very watchful” says Honey. “Very curious. They’re taking a step back and assessing what’s going on. There’s a dark curiosity.”
The “they” I assume refers to the hundreds of souls that were brought here, born here, died and executed on the grounds of the jail. Their stories are told around the Jail and are hauntingly sad. Redolent of a time when justice was unflinchingly served in black and white. Fifty-five people were hanged during the jail’s history, the last in 1909. Small wonder there’s a concentration of ghosts.
Honey has had plenty of non-believers come to prove her wrong – only to have something happen. “And that’s fine. I’m here to help you understand your experience when you have it.” A warden’s dog is a common apparition. I like dogs, so keep my eyes peeled.
Bodmin Jail’s history is visible through its layers of architecture. It was opened in 1779 and extended over the years, with an entire new Victorian prison built between 1856 and 1861, before finally closing in 1927; there is still no prison in the county of Cornwall. After that it was variously a nightclub and a pub as it fell progressively into worse repair, until Russian millionaire Timur Gorman bought the jail in 2015 and spent £60 million transforming it.
A new visitor attraction and a hotel opened in May – three granite-walled cells were combined using diamond cutters to create each of the 72 rooms. There’s a restaurant, and the Jolly Hangman Tavern: a plethora of shinily macabre tourist experiences.
On the Dark Floor – so called because it’s ceiling means little natural light penetrated the cells – it is barely changed from when Selina Wadge was kept here awaiting execution for the murder of her own child. I spend some time imagining what it would be like to spend 24 hours a day here. It’s chilling to reflect upon Bodmin’s sad human history. Even more so because its design was replicated in Victorian prisons like Pentonville and Wandsworth, still in use today, but with two inmates per room. The blueprints for the air shafts that sent warm air around the building are closely guarded for that reason.
Honey takes me down a winding staircase into an off-limits area that hasn’t been revamped. She has spent a lot of time here in search of the paranormal. She once transfigured into a burly man in front of another paranormal expert’s eyes.
As we stand in the dark, old, coal stores she gives an excited shiver. “It’s very zingy in here.” I wait to see if she transfigures. But it is not to be. It seems the spirits are holding back on me.
I remain sceptical about ghosts. But I’m glad when we re-emerge, blinking, into the daylight.