My new book: Paranormal Staffordshire

With Hallowe'en celebrations in full swing I thought it the perfect time to look at my latest book, Paranormal Staffordshire, released last week. One story comes from Ipstones, an incident reported almost a century ago during the dark days of the First World War.

The Hermitage
While thousands of individuals faced each other across the trenches of Europe, a reporter for a Matlock newspaper crossed the county boundary and brought his notebook to the Staffordshire Moorlands.
By this time the place was the property of a Colonel Beech under the tenancy of Bennett Fallowes. Together they had run this place for some twelve or thirteen years, yet the reporter was showing interest in the previous owner who seemed reluctant to leave his old home. The resident Fallowes family had admitted to becoming hardened to their ghostly guest and hardly troubled them.
During his lifetime the earlier owner of the place earned a reputation over a sizable area. A miserly little man, whose permanently bent back made him seem even smaller, despite never being seen without his trademark top hat. Disliked by all who knew him, he was reputed to have amassed a small fortune with his miserly ways. The Fallowes family, who had never met him as he had died before they arrived, were sure he was still there. They often felt the draught as they passed him on the stairs, accompanied by the sound of rustling, yet nothing could be seen.
One day Edward Wheeldon, Mrs Fallowes brother, brought his wife to stay for a few days. They lasted just one night, a night when they were unable to sleep for the sound of someone running up and down the stairs all night. They tried to call out to the rest of the family in another part of the house, but were unable to make themselves heard. When daylight broke next morning and Mr Wheeldon managed to rise from his bed he saw how his hair was standing straight up and neither he nor his wife ever stayed another night at the farm.
A servant girl here, another relative of the Fallowes family, would often hear ghostly screams from beneath her bedroom window. A form of serenading which she could certainly do without. Richard Fallowes, a cousin of the man of the house, stayed one night when he not only heard the American organ playing in the sitting room but could recognise the tune, yet nobody was downstairs at the time.
A bed in an unoccupied room was heard to be sat on, yet nobody was there nor could they have exited without being seen. A pile of planks created a tremendous noise as they were heard to come clattering down one evening, however armed with lanterns the family discovered not a single plank was out of place. Yet none of the incidents were as worrying as that experienced by Jane Fallowes, who felt the unmistakable touch of a human hand against her face.
Their visitor had become a regular at the farm. However they had noticed he seems to like specific times in the calendar, appearing at Good Friday, Easter, Whitsuntide, Christmas, and the summer and winter solstice.
The large black dog, said to have glowing red eyes and equal in size to a donkey and which may or may not be related to the other phenomenon, has been seen in the road around here. One man kicked out at the fiercesome beast, only to see his foot pass straight through the animal which seemed not to notice.

Published by Amberley Books Paranormal Staffordshire is my fourth book on this subject. Copies are available by contacting the author.

My Hallowe'en Story

With Hallowe'en on the calendar this weekend I thought I might offer up an offering from my forthcoming book on the paranormal. Entitled Paranormal Birmingham, it covers the traditional narratives alongside the personal experiences of those who have lived and worked in this city of 1.2 million individuals.
No book on any aspect of the history of Birmingham would be complete without a mention of the Old Crown. There is no doubt this is one of the oldest buildings in the city, if not the oldest, while the actual date of construction is difficult to tie down. Early research suggested a date of 1368, however this is based on estimates from surviving records and not actual facts.
In the fourteenth century one Robert o' the Grene is documented as a co-founder of the old church of St John the Baptist. This meant they no longer had to travel to Aston parish church to worship and that he, as a founder, was earmarked to whomever owned the building which is now the Old Crown. This shows the building was here before the church and has also outlived it.
A substantial property was given as a wedding present to the daughter of Robert 'o the Grene. It is most tempting to think this was the Old Crown, indeed it would be difficult to see two such sizable buildings here which was, and remained for many years after, smaller than neighbouring Aston. When the original local historian and antiquary, John Leland, came through here in 1540 he reflected upon the 'praty strete' and its 'mansion howse of tymbar'.
Queen Elizabeth I is said to have stayed here for a single night, perhaps William Shakespeare's eyes saw the large wooden building on one of his journeys, and Prince Rupert may also have admired the even then old building when he came to Birmingham during the English Civil War. We may have to guess as to the identity of many of the historical figures, however more recent visitors and employees have documented their experiences in the Old Crown Ghost Book, a record by the individuals themselves on their personal experiences. These individuals, who shall remain anonymous, may well have been introduced to others whose memory still remains within the walls of this historical building.
Our first two stories come from downstairs in the where the public wander freely. It was November 1998 when a member of staff was taking a hard-earned break on the other side of the counter. Her mind was elsewhere, perhaps planning ahead for the coming festive season, and gazing aimlessly in the direction behind the bar by the till. Suddenly, and with nobody near, a bottle of Martell Brandy fell. It had been nestling in a wine rack to the right of the till, but came crashing down with a bang which, as the witness reported, was somehow far too loud for a breaking bottle.
Around the corner is the restaurant area. Here in September of 1998, when most of the customers had finished their meals, a doorman took the weight off his feet on the stool at the end of the bar. As he sat there he clearly saw an indistinct grey figure, difficult to say it was male of female, walk across the fireplace and into the kitchen area. It never paused when passing the lit fire, nor was it seen by the kitchen staff still tidying up after the evening meals. It had simply vanished.
However it is upstairs in the guest rooms where the most disturbing reports originate. As a member of staff pointed out, these reports have something in common. Nearly all occur between the hours of 2:50am and 3:30am, although the time does not seem relevant to the experiences, as we shall see.
It is May 2007 and in room number three a visitor from the other side of the world was spending his third night at the Old Crown. Previous nights had passed without incident, yet this was to be his last night here and he moved on to another hotel in the city centre. He was greatly disturbed when he awoke in the middle of the night and had the feeling he was not alone. Opening his eyes he turned over to see a man in his early fifties. A hazy, greyish silhouette, the stranger was not himself particularly frightening, indeed the guest said he had a kind face. Perhaps the stranger was more scared at being discovered, for he took a single step back and then vanished.
However the most activity seems to occur in room number five. On two consecutive nights in February 2000 the guest had awoken, the figures on the alarm clock glowing red at 3:26am both nights. On the first night he awoke feeling cold and wet, his first thought being he had wet the bed although this proved not to be the case. The following night he woke again feeling cold and wet, yet this time he opened his eyes to the sight of an old woman above the bed weeping bitterly. She vanished but left him wondering it had been her tears which had made him feel wet.
Our last story also comes from room number five and is rather different. Nothing was seen, so far as we are aware, although something was most assuredly felt as we shall see. It is September 1998 and two twenty-somethings were spending the night in that room. The boyfriend was awoken, needing to answer a call of nature and had arisen, leaving his girlfriend sleeping. When returning he distinctly heard her voice, not speaking but the tell-tale little moans and gasps he was quite familiar with. He crawled back into bed and she snuggled up to him, arms around one another.
It was then he was taken aback by her commenting on how that was, in her words. "The best willy ever!" He resolved never to tell her he had been otherwise engaged at the time!