My final haunted mansion is Michelham Priory.
Michelham Priory, founded in 1229, was in service to the church up until the Desolation of the Monasteries in the 16th Century.
The church was subsequently demolished, and the main building was turned into a home.
The most notable ghost to haunt the site is that of Thomas Sackville, a prior owner of the site. In life, he was an unpleasant man and continued his disagreeable behaviour in death. He takes great delight in upsetting visitors by pushing or striking them, and it is rumoured that another spirit that of a young girl is so scared of him that she takes refuge at the top of the stairs.
Of course, no respectable haunted house would be without a lady whether they be white, grey or any other colour. Michelham Priory has its own Grey Lady. She is often seen wandering by the bridge and the gatehouse. Sometimes, she is reported to have been seen staring mournfully into the waters of the moat, perhaps grieving for the loss of a child who drowned therein. Slightly more unnerving are the reports of her staring into the faces of sleeping guests.
Poltergeist activity has also been reported with doors and windows which slam seemingly of their own accord.
In my forthcoming novel HIGH SPIRITS which will be published on January 6, 2018, the young ghost called Pol is exceedingly scared of an unknown entity that roams the museum. Through the power of her longevity, she is able to keep him at bay and away from Alec and Jean but as her two friends, emboldened by their new friendship with Bethan, exercise powers of their own, the malevolent spirit becomes increasingly hostile.
Well, this ends my short series on haunted mansions, but I’d like to finish by telling you about my own experiences of working in haunted buildings.
For many years I worked at Dover Castle, probably one of the finest medieval castles in the world.
The most famous ghost is that of the Headless Drummer Boy who reputedly haunts the battlements near the Constable Tower.
Like all of these things, this tale has grown over the years.
In 1945 the Dover Express reported:
Dover Express - Friday 02 March 1945
And Now a Ghost!
The latest stunt about Dover is the "discovery" of a ghost story for the Castle. Until this year people - to whom the Castle has been a familiar friend for years - had never heard about "The Headless Drummer." The "Evening News" this week published an elaboration of the story published a month ago. The gist of this story is that in battles or skirmishes 200 years ago near the Castle a drummer had his head shot off, and that, as it could not be found, he was buried without it, and now his ghost patrols the moat on the night of each full moon, and then disappears with his drum into an underground passage.
To begin with, there were no battles or skirmishes near the Castle 200 years ago. The "Evening News" story about this ghost declares that at the end of the last century a young Guards officer spent a night in "the haunted underground passages," and in the morning had become a gibbering, white-haired madman, unable to give any account his experiences. We have recently been told that an article appeared in the "Strand Magazine" describing this episode. It should be easy, if this be true, to produce the date of the article and the name of the young Guards officer. Not a single writer on the Castle appears to have heard about this 200 years old ghost, of which stories suddenly turn up in 1945!
On Tuesday, the "News Chronicle" produced a new version the Headless Drummer's fate. This story is that he was murdered whilst in charge of the Regiment's pay. This bears a suspicious resemblance to the Ingoldsby Legend of the "Dead Drummer." But that gruesome episode occurred on Salisbury Plain. The “Daily Mail," on Wednesday, reported that the Brigadier at Dover had stopped the Ghost Hunt which was the latest development of this ghost stunt. The "Mail" describes the story as the most persistent legend in Dover. Till a month ago, no one had heard of it. The Brigadier was right to stop the Castle being made a laughing stock.
Dover Express - Friday 13 July 1945
CASTLE GHOST NONSENSE.
The "Daily Express," on Friday last, contained in its Hickey's column a nonsensical account of alleged manifestations by the recently invented "Headless Drummer." This is what the "Daily Express" published:-
"Legpull - not so gentle - reported from Dover Castle, where the superstitious think that dreary drummer boy's ghost is walking again. The Castle's new Deputy Constable, Brigadier H. E. Pickering, M.C., is living in the Constable's Tower, a few yards from where the drummer boy is supposed to take his stroll. In the past 24 hours, says a soldier in the garrison these things have happened to the unhappy brigadier:— "His monocle has been snatched from his eye and discovered underneath him; his silk dressing-gown has torn itself to shreds; his spectacles have disappeared from his pocket; his walking-stick disappeared; then, in the afternoon, the brigadier's personal pennant slowly lowered itself, and the missing stick appeared in its place... Drummer boy will get confined to barracks if he doesn't watch out."
[The story of a Drummer Boy's ghost appears to be a war-time invention for the delectation and horrification of our wartime guests and pandering Pressmen, to whom any stunt is acceptable. The Editor of this paper has been a constant visitor to the Castle for many years, and never heard word of this legend from guides, who certainly were expansive in their talks. Not a word of it has appeared in any published Castle folklore.]
Over the course of 12 years at Dover Castle, I have heard reports of ghostly experiences from trusted colleagues. One such was the sighting of a gentleman dressed in 17th century clothing seen by one of my former colleagues as she swept the basement.
Many experiences were centred on the tunnels under the castle. One visitor complemented me and a colleague on the marvellous sound effects in the Underground Works, a series of medieval and Napoleonic tunnels. We informed him that no such effects were used down there and he went very pale. Concerned that someone had found their way into the lower levels we investigated but found nothing.
My own experience may have been a trick of the eye but upon closing up the keep (now grandly called The Great Tower), I thought I spotted a man entering what was then known as the King’s bedroom. I had been tasked with clearing the second floor along with a colleague, a rather tall, thin chap. As I turned, I thought I saw him going into this room, but only the lower part of his leg from below the knee, as it lifted off the ground to mount up into the room. Naturally, I called out that I had already checked that room only to find my colleague appear from another direction. Quickly, he checked the room but found no one and the only way out was through the door.
This tale was taken up (without credit to me, I might add!) on the popular television programme Most Haunted where the medium declared that the chap was called Michael and was some kind of high ranking servant to the king.
Hmmm…well, okay, if you say so!
Again, the tale has got bigger with each telling.
This was how it was reported on the pages of paranormal group who visited the castle for a night vigil in 1991:
On another occasion very recently, two female members of staff saw the lower half of a man's body crossing the doorway of the King's bedchamber during the evening search of the keep. The two witnesses followed the figure into the chamber only to find he had disappeared, and there was no other exit. Other members of staff were close by in the main hall at the time.
Well, nearly right, I suppose!
Sometimes, the half a leg is a whole leg and climbing the spiral stairs…
Moving on from Dover Castle, I next spent 13 years in the employ of the Colchester Museum Service (now Colchester and Ipswich Museum Service).
For the keep itself (misleadingly called Colchester Castle) I never felt much in the way of bad vibes. Even in the prison area.
In the Hollytrees Museum, a former home to the Gray and Round families, perfume and the smell of cooking could be sensed wafting through the house before any visitors had been in.
One day, a colleague came down from doing a patrol of the rooms to report that she wasn’t overly keen on the gentleman she’d seen at the top of the house. She’d said ‘hello’ but he’d glared at her.
It took a while but then I realised we’d only had about half a dozen visitors that day, being as it was winter and looking back on the videotape all were accounted for except a man - we’d had no men visiting us that day.
Feeling less than brave, we summoned a colleague from the castle who checked the whole house to make sure this man hadn’t secreted himself away somewhere. As the only way in and out was by the front desk, we could not explain it.
I personally, have heard what sounded like heavy footsteps pacing up and down in the room above where I was sitting at the front desk. Whilst two of my former colleagues both saw what looked like a lady in a dress, or rather the train of her dress, go by along what was once a corridor but is now blocked by the lift.
I think the only place I ever felt very uncomfortable in was the Natural History Museum in Colchester which is housed in a redundant church – All Saints.
All Saints parish is tiny; tucked at the end of the High Street. The church is surrounded by a small graveyard and underneath is a crypt into which the wealthier members of the parish were buried including Charles Grey, one-time owner of Hollytrees and the castle and its grounds.
One day, I and another member of staff were asked to go to the museum as the staff member on duty had reported a problem, possibly with the roof. Now, this gentleman is one of the calmest, most pragmatic people I ever knew so when he said that he heard a loud noise that sounded like slates falling from the roof, we believed him.
Neither myself nor my colleague could see any damage to the roof. To put things into perspective, the interior of the church is open to the roof and sound carries in very strange ways, but our colleague was insistent and, to be honest, he wasn’t one prone to histrionics. He described it as sounding like the tiles were slipping then crashing to the ground.
Another check confirmed that all tiles were intact.
About a year or so later, I was in the museum alone save for two elderly persons. All of a sudden there was a terrific noise which sounded like something sliding down the roof followed by an enormous crash. Just as my colleague had described. The two visitors also heard the noise and wondered about it.
Again, no external damage was found.
An interesting theory was put forward – not knowing how the crypt underneath was laid out, could it be possible that a coffin, perhaps sitting on a wooden shelf which had given way, had landed on a coffin below (this would account for the sliding and crashing sound) and that finally, unable to bear the weight any longer that coffin had finally fallen? Without being able to access the crypt, we can’t tell but it was a truly weird experience.
