Not a great deal has happened today so instead of my normal blog I shall tell you another story about my haunted childhood home, I hope you do not mind and it will certainly be more interesting than a catalogue of today's mundane events.
Some of the ghosts who frequented my childhood home were very odd, I suppose all ghosts are but the funniest one was the ghost of a cat. Not a whole cat you understand but the tail end of one. It was seen by at least one member of the family on a daily basis and always whisking hurriedly through the door in to the kitchen. It was a tabby cat and you could tell it was a Tom cat if you see what I mean. Our poor dogs were driven to distraction by this interloper and many a visitor exclaimed in surprise when the half cat vanished in to thin air. My grandfather ,who saw the cat more often than anyone else held the theory that the animal had at some time been trapped in the door and met it's death, it's a possibility.
A much less amusing ghost was a very cross old woman who , though seldom seen made her presence felt by pushing you out of her way. She could be quite violent at times and once she pushed my younger brother down the stairs. Both my mother and I saw the whole thing. He was on his way upstairs and my mother and I were following, all at once he lurched backwards as if pushed and fell heavily against my mother who thank goodness was there to break his fall. My Grandmother was similarly pushed while going down stairs, she was not so lucky and broke her hip.
This bad tempered old girl also smashed crockery and once while we were all sitting at the dinner table a large bowl of rice pudding was lifted by an unseen hand off the dresser and hurled in to the fireplace. That was a conversation stopper believe me. One of my uncles and his new bride were visiting us for dinner and were aghast at what they saw. Now and again one of the dogs would yelp with pain and run for cover and when that happened we all knew the cantankerous old baggage was up to her tricks. I stopped her from hurting the dogs by hanging a pentacle around each of their necks, I did not see why they should suffer,my Gran asked why I did not give her one, I suppose she had a point.
The truth was that my Grandmother was just such another cantankerous old lady, and we children secretly called her Mugwump! Incidentally so did our Grandfather!
I would hate you to think that I was gung-ho about all these strange events. For a long time , several years in fact I was scared to death and the fact that my Mother and Grandmother who along with Grandfather lived with us on the farm ,were fond of discussing these happenings meant that I was never able to forget about our uninvited guests.
Whenever I was asked to write a story at school I always wrote a story about ghosts. My teacher, baffled by this strange predilection asked me one day why I always wrote such tales and how I managed to think them up. His face as I told him that the stories were true is a thing I shall never forget. Our school was a very strict C of E school and telling tall tales was more than frowned upon. Luckily for me the Head Teachers wife had psychic abilities and after a few words with my Mother the subject was dropped....at school. The Head Masters wife however paid us several visits to see and hear our cast of character ghosts, so then I had three of them discussing the doings of the supposedly dead past occupants of the house,. It was hardly an improvement!
One night when I was a out nine years old my Mother took me aside and told me that I had inherited the family ability to see ghosts, That I was like herself, my grand mother and many other members of my family psychic. She told me that I should not be afraid and that it was a sort of honour to be able to commune in this way. I felt that it was an honour I could certainly do without,but after that I was a member of the club. Around the fire with my Mother,my Grandmother and my Aunts my stories were listened to. I began to realise that these people were the only ones who I could talk to about my experiences, they knew I was telling the truth because they saw these things themselves.
I stopped being afraid from that day onwards and instead became curious about the strangers who shared our home.
This lead to many strange occurrences and much research as I grew older, but more about all that another time.
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