|My first apparition!|
years ago, I lived just outside London: my best friend at the time was
the son of the fire-chief of a suburb called Horn****ch
guessed the end of this tale, I'm sure! I called out to the old woman for
permission to retrieve my ball: she nodded her smiling assent. On returning
to my playmate, I found him skulking by the back door of his house.
"You had no need to worry!" I told him, and recounted what had transpired!
He burst into sudden unexpected tears, and ran inside. Only later did his mother take me aside and explain that the old woman who I had described in such detail had passed away the previous week!
|An unwelcome visitor!|
remember when I was younger than I am now, I had to stay at the home of
my sister-in-law, Vivienne in Brentwood in Essex (very near Shenfield!).
I went there because the snow was very deep, and the trains were
not running into London (where I worked) from my home town of Wickford.
There was no problem with trains from Brentwood.
|Some Civil War spooks!|
is, perhaps, not surprising that the shades of Royalists and Parliamentarians
('Roundheads' and 'Cavaliers' if you prefer ) figure quite frequently
in these memoires. Assuming that ghosts may perhaps be 'recruited' to
their hauntings from among those who have been rudely wrenched from their
mortal existence by acts of violence, there is hardly a square metre of
these islands where some ill-fated soul was not sent to his maker during
the Greate Rebellion of the mid-17 th century.