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Monday, 25 October 2021

Not For The Sceptical

I don't believe in ghosts So what the hell was going on here, I have no idea.  Many years have passed and I am still trying to process the story to make sense of it; to acknowledge, indeed,  that something beyond my understanding was afoot. 

I was young, in my mid-twenties, and living in London. My family home in Gloucester, which I visited frequently,  was the old stationmasters house in Pembroke Street near California Crossing,  opposite Gloucester Park It was a 19 century three-storey dwelling updated in the 60’s to meet the needs of a modern household. 

Shortly after taking up residence, my mother reported that  strange things were going on, which,  being sceptical about such things, I laughed off. Until it got serious. This is my mum’s story: 

“I was carrying Jan (a baby at the time) to bed, when I saw, standing on the landing,  half-way up the stairs, a young man dressed in army uniform, smiling at me. I was very startled not knowing who it could be, thinking it must be Adrian larking, about,  then, before I could say anything, the soldier said, “Know me by my cap,” which he touched,  and immediately disappeared. This made no sense to me at all. I put Jan to bed, went downstairs and discussed it with your dad. “What was he wearing?” I described the uniform. “And the cap?” Sort of triangular … 

Dad sorted through his things in the dresser and found a photo of a young soldier dressed in fatigues and wearing a “forage cap”I recognised  him at once as the man I’d seen on the stairs: it was your uncle Leonard, who died of TB contracted while fighting in Italy during the Second World War. “

That was just a beginning of the story. On my periodic visits home mum would tell me of frequent visits by “Uncle Len”  always at night, when she was asleep. So she was dreaming,  then? Apparently not. She’d be woken up and engaged in conversation. My dad recalls one occasion when he woke up too, and observed mum in a trance-like state holding what looked to him like a one-sided conversation with a person he could not see. It scared him sh*tless. 

She ( they) became increasingly uneasy. These were troubling occurrences,  and I could tell mum was being adversely affected by them. Eventually, whatever the source, she wanted them to stop. 

It’s many years since this happened and I remember at the time believing it was almost entirely in my mothers head,  and didn’t take a lot of notice, until the story took a very dark turn. ‘Uncle Len’ claimed that my cousin David would, “Gamble away all his money, then gamble away his life.” At this point,  my mother became really scared, and she asked me for help,  because I went to church. Mim did not go to church, but she had an idea that the church might be the go-to place for this sort of thing. According to the movies, anyway. 

I admitted that my experience of church,  had nothing at all to do with figures appearing on landings and revealing unwanted information,  but nevertheless,  I went to my vicar and asked for advice.  

We asked around, because the church is a repository of wisdom on this sort of thing, and it was decided that I should pray in the house, and for mother, sprinkle Holy Water here and there, and see what happened.. Consultations with psychiatrists were recommended too, which mum would have none of. 

 Fools rush in where angels fear to tread and yes, I I did it I prayed in the house, and for my mother.  I sprinkled holy water copiously, I told her to tell ‘Uncle Len’ to go away the next time it manifested itself, as it's highly unlikely it be anything to do with dad’s brother,  and to this day, 50 years later, cousin David is still alive and well. Did I have faith in what I was doing? Not at all, at the time, but my mum did, and that clinched it. End of apparitions. 

I thought that might be the end of the matter. It wasn't, although the figure in the army inform and forage cap never put in another appearance. 

The True Story of Mervyn And The Poltergeist is for another day.