With Halloween looming ever closer, it’s a good time to dust off the ghost stories. If you’ve had a ghostly experience, please post a comment and share it!
In the meantime, here’s mine.
My Grandmother’s house was haunted. There was a chap called Mr Angarth who lodged with my great grandparents, and as far as anyone knew, he died in the first world war – they think at Gallipoli. They never heard from him, but after a while the sound of him padding about in his socks returned to the room that had been his. In my teens, that was my bedroom. I heard him at night on a few occasions. Knowing the story, I was not as frightened as I might otherwise have been, but it was a tad unnerving!
My Great Grandmother was also very present in the house – on a number of occasions the smell of a Monday wash, which is very distinctive, filled the house. We couldn’t think of any rational explanation for that boiling soap smell, and both Gran and I experienced it. We both felt it was Great Grandmother making her presence known. That was an entirely comfortable experience, not least perhaps because it happened in daylight.