My hero

It has been a while since I posted anything.
I find myself staring at the screen trying to recollect anything that happened to me in the last two months that is not work related. Then today it hits me, on a rare occasion that I'm not at work. Sunday marks two years my father was taken away from us and joined the upper levels. There hasn't been one day I don't think of him for at least a few hours. It sounds insane, I know, but only those who have experienced it know how it feels.

I will probably have no time to blog again this year, so let me leave a big THANK YOU to all my friends and readers for all the support and kind words. I will return, that's for sure, I just don't know when.

On a good note, work related, I got promoted to a supervisor position, which means better money and less time scraping bits of burger off the grill, but it also means working loooooong hours and having no life.

So, just to make sure it gets out there, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year for us all.

Love, always.

Miles Cason

In Bruges part III

Finally a break.

After all the laptop drama, I managed to retype the rest of the story. I promise this is the last chapter, as I don’t want to disappoint my readers.

After all the excitement and amazement of the previous nights we were buzzing for some more action. As we settled in our room in the next hotel (number 3) my father immediately felt strange and got a headache, which made him more aware and focused, where I was still too excited to notice that we got lucky in our room choice, or the receptionist heard what we were doing in town.

We set up the camera in the room and went for a walk around the hotel. It was a lovely place which they had recently renovated and managed to keep the classic style intact. After the tour we sat with the manager to have a chat about the history in the place. Our room was really the only active area with concrete evidence of a paranormal presence. There were too many stories to tell to be able to find a possible cause or person to be trapped there. We were going to find something, it seemed, but we would not know who or what it was. As soon as we got back to the room we felt the difference in the air, there was something strange about that room. According to the tales told by the staff, there were 3 murders in that room over the course of about 150 years. Not exactly pleasant, but still intriguing. As we sat there with our equipment I reviewed the footage we just recorded and saw many unexplained shadows and sudden light changes happen in a short time period. Every once in a while we got a heavy head feel and our readings peaked. We attempted contact several times with several different approaches and got nothing. It seems they were not the most sociable entities in town. Following the info we got from the staff we got ready to sleep. My father didn’t like this strategy too much, as he’s too well trained in switching off to sleep in haunted places and he didn’t expect to wake up whenever something presented itself. I fell asleep quicker than I expected and I was half awaken by someone crying in the room, I opened my eyes and could see the shadow of a person standing against the wall of the room. As soon as I moved it went away, I first thought that was just a shadow, but the crying came back. I closed my eyes again and listened to it. I whispered to it, asked if I could help and it all went silent. I fell asleep after a short while only to wake up feeling restless. As I opened my eyes and turned around, there was the face of a man bowing down towards me. Again it went away as I moved. I sat up and waited but nothing else happened. I went back to sleep hoping for something else to wake me up, which never happened. I got up in the morning and my father was by the table writing on his diary. I told him of all that happened at night and he was silent throughout. Only later he told me he had many dreams that night, and that was all he ever told me about it. I’ve been looking through his diaries and still haven’t found anything about the dreams or the trip. I guess I’ll never find out.

Our fourth hotel was the biggest disappointment of them all. The staff was relatively young and the stories were too fantastical (I know what you’re thinking, we’ve seen our share of fantastical and they were real) but we gave them the benefit of the doubt and stayed for the night, as planned.

The manager gave us the most active room to keep our things in. We decided to stay there for the first night and then set up recording equipment on another supposedly haunted part of the building. During the night we got noises, things falling, faint voices coming from outside the window, even though it was the third floor and other phenomena. We tried contacting and got nothing back. We made notes on all the times and types of occurrences to see how it differs the next night. My father told me he had a feeling about this place, which initially I was surprised to hear, as I didn’t get excited about any of it.

The next night, he changed our post at the last minute, without telling anyone. We were at a kitchen, were the equipment was the previous night and all we could see in the image were shadows coming from the corridor, which could have been anything, as there were other guests in the building other than us. We stayed there and all we saw the whole night were people walking quietly out in the corridors. I started to understand my father’s strategy. I asked him one question and his answer confirmed it all. They were conning us. Or trying to.

Halfway through the night we moved to an empty room and fell asleep. We went back to our room once we were up and started to look at the footage. It appeared the staff did not realise we were not there or that we set up our recording equipment in a way we could see over the room door, one of those with a glass above the door. My father set it up so the corridor would be visible via a mirror on the wall inside the room. A slight variation of the previous night’s act, we got the whole deal, voices, things falling, footsteps, which we now could see it was the staff walking about trying to scare us.

We packed our stuff and before we left my dad out his head out of the room window, looking up and telling me to have a look a this one brick. The wall was old and dirty, except for one brick. As I touched it, it was a speaker. Ghost voices indeed. We’ve seen such tricks before in places where their business depends on the haunting that occurs in the premises, so if nothing actually happens the staff make something so the guests won’t be disappointed.

We were very disappointed and left without a word to the staff.

As we arrived at the next hotel I was baffled. It was a modern looking building, as modern as you can get in Bruges. Before I asked my father told me why we were there. “This is our well deserved rest for the last night before we go back home. I’m back to work, you know”

We spent the next two days sightseeing, eating out and enjoying the town while sleeping through the night. It was a week well spent, that’s for sure.

I do recommend a trip to Bruges any time of the year. There’s a lot of history and beauty to please everyone. As I keep to my word I will not reveal the names of the hotels we stayed, but the chances are you will stay somewhere with some paranormal history to it.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Miles.

Technobabble

Hello dear friends.

Have you ever stopped to look around and wonder at the amazing technology we have at our disposal? If you’re 20 or younger you probably don’t know how good we got it. I certainly know.

I started blogging in 2008 and since then my laptop became one of my most precious gadgets, together with my tri-meter, sound recorder and my camcorder. I take these everywhere I go, because you never know when you might pass by a creepy place and want to check it out for ghosts and other apparitions, right?

I was happily typing another blog chapter of my trip to Bruges with my father when my laptop stopped working. It just froze. I thought it was the usual overheating problem and even checked it, which to my surprise, didn’t seem to be hot at all. I stared at it for a second just waiting for it to just get back to normal and tell me it was all a joke. Nothing happened. I decided to press the restart button, I hesitated for a second and then did it…the screen went black…and that was it…I waited…

Nothing.

Of course I panicked, of course I knew ALL my data was lost and my laptop had became a vegetable. Of course I knew that a good repair shop could fix it, to some extent. Of course I didn’t have the money to do it.

As I am actually posting a blog today, you may all jump to conclusions that this is a happy ending story…well, it kinda is, but not all of it.

I had to consult my mum first of all to see if we could afford to buy a new one. Rhetorical question no doubt. Then I enquired as to fixing this baby here. That was a yes. I ran to the supposedly cheapest shop I could find and as they told me the price I ran back home, with the laptop still broken. I had to wait another week to get paid and go back there. I implored the man to try and save my work, which he was happy to do it, for an extra 100 pounds. Ouch! I said yes without hesitation. I had a couple of long shifts the next days, so it took me longer than I was comfortable with to go back there and get my baby back. I was ecstatic to hear all my blogs and docs and info were safe and sound. They had to change the ram and the hard drive, they are old. It was a double surgery brain and heart transplant on the poor thing. Now it works like new!

Well, it was a happy ending, right? Wrong! The long account of my trip to Bruges wasn’t saved before the whole thing crashed and I lost it all. So I’ll have to type it again. Ever happened to you? Annoying isn’t it? Same when you type a massive email to someone and when you click send the internet goes down and you lose it all and have to retype that loooong email all over again.

Damn all this technology!

:-)

I’ll start retyping the Bruges trip and will post it soon. I haven’t forgotten I still owe some more Nancy letters to you all. I’ll get there, eventually. After all, I’m only a man, I’m not a machine ;-)

Love,

Miles

(off to work now)

In Bruges part II

Hello dear readers.

Thanks for your patience. Now back to the story.

We checked the camera my dad set up in the owner’s room and there were a few unexplained shadows that occurred when no one was there, always in time with the episodes my dad recorded the other night. Not enough proof, but interesting nonetheless. We set up camp in that room, starting earlier than the previous night. By about 10pm the first episode of heavy atmosphere already happened. My dad was happy his theory was correct, that it happens the whole night, not only in the small hours. During the first interval we set up the equipment and my dad prepared a few strategies to contact the man. He tried yet another theory by attempting contact during the intervals. Nothing happened.

As soon as the air got heavy again my dad applied his first plan, consisting of him holding up an old clock that supposedly belonged to the man. He stood there for a few minutes, holding the clock, waiting for something. Once again nothing happened.

Another interval came and my dad put the clock in a corner of the room, on top of a coffee table. Next we were trying verbal contact, but with a twist. We were asking for help from the man. According to what we read, this man was an important person in town, with people always coming to him for advice and help. We positioned ourselves in the middle of the room, facing the old desk. As the readings told us someone was possibly back we looked down and my father spoke a couple of words in Flemish, asking for help. We felt a draught of air running through the room. My dad was convinced the man understood, but wanted to confirm it by asking the man to speak with us. There was nothing for a while, but this episode lasted longer than all the others. We thought the man seemed to be interested in us, until the next interval lasted about three hours, instead of the usual 45mins. My father was very disappointed and a bit frustrated with himself. We spent that time talking about all the great and successful trips we had in the past (yes, it was me attempting to lift his mood). Shortly before the next interval we got a knock at the door. It sounded too real to be a ghost. It was the hotel’s current manager, with a scared look on his face. He came in and told us how he was woken up by a man’s voice calling his name, telling him to go back to his own room. My dad got the three of us in the same position in the middle of the room. The air got proper heavy, it seemed still. My dad asked the manager to translate out loud whatever he said, to which the guy agreed. My father spoke about the man being trapped here, to which we heard the sound of heavy footsteps around us, then my dad said he understands this seems like his duty, but the man must move on and leave this place behind. There’s got to be more for him than to do rounds of the hotel every night. As my dad said that the manager and I started to cry. It was not that we wanted as it was an urge to do it that was beyond us. My father didn’t seem to be affected by it and continued, telling how he suspects the man is trying to protect his building, but mostly he’s trying to protect his possessions. We heard a bump coming from somewhere inside the room. As we looked over to a corner we saw the object my dad held up, the clock knocked on its side. We made contact. My father asked the crying manager to get rid of all personal objects that belonged to the man, which should be enough to let the man go in peace.

We left that hotel the next morning with a sense of duty done. We usually don’t meddle with other people’s business, we only show them the way to deal with things their own way, but in this trip so far we helped three different people move on from their past life, from this place they don’t belong to anymore.

Job well done I say, as of course I would love to say it to my dad, but now I believe he knows I feel this way about his work, his life and all the knowledge he left behind with me.

Thanks dad.

I’ll continue this story next week, hopefully without any delays (from Tuesday to Thursday this week. Need to work harder)

Have a good weekend.

Miles.

In Bruges

Found an old picture of my dad and I from our trip to Bruges, in Belgium. I remember we got really excited when they made a movie about it, to see if they’d show the places we’ve been to.

We spent two weeks there and stayed in five different hotels, the ones we heard had some activity previously reported, which in turn reminds me of another movie, Stephen King’s Room 1408.

During the day we visited the touristic places and were fascinated by their beauty, but it was at night that we got the best out of this medieval town.

The hotels were cool with what we were doing, but all of them asked us not to tell people about it. I guess they don’t yet know how good for business it would be.

First hotel there was nothing. We picked a few readings on the first night and stayed a second night to see if it meant something. Nothing presented itself so we packed our bags in the morning and moved on to hotel number 2.

There the concierge had stories to tell. It was a really old place, which is not surprising in Bruges. There was a picture of one of the dead owners of the building hanging on the wall of the reception and our first thought was he’s still around. With that in mind we split for the night, dad stayed in the main bedroom, the owners’ room and I stayed in the supposedly most active room. We both had busy nights.

I had readings peaking throughout the night. At some point I fell asleep, tired from the long day. I was awakened by a crying woman. It startled me as I forgot where I was and called for my mum (not in a cowardly “I want my mommy” way, just thought she was the one crying, you see). I saw this woman sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. She looked up in my direction and said, angry, “I am not your mother”.

As I got up and composed myself I couldn’t see her anymore. I checked my readings and there were still peaks. I attempted to contact her and it all went quiet. I stayed up for a few more hours and got nothing else in the room.

The next day we spoke with the staff and they were not surprised to hear of my encounter with the woman and happy for me I didn’t meet the man who usually appears in that room.

My father had an interesting night too. Although he didn’t see anyone of any physical proof of an entity in the room, he got readings peaking and the air in the room getting constantly heavy, within exact intervals. He just recorded the time of all occurrences and planned to attempt contact the following night.

I made sure I got enough sleep and rest to stay awake the whole of the second night. My father was quiet interested in the possible dynamics of the room I stayed, so he decided to stay with me. We set up a camera in the owners’ room, just in case something decided to present itself.

As the night went on we got comfortable in the room. As soon as we got some peaks in the static energy I was eager to contact and see if she or he would show themselves. My father was, as usual, more patient and waited a little longer. After a few failed attempts on my part he then picked a random object in the room, placed on the bedside table and just looked around, as if offering it to someone. He sat back down and soon after the object moved. It was a slow and delicate movement, and we regretted not having the camcorder with us. My father led the way and called for whoever was present. My readings were all over the place, from high to absurd, and every time my dad spoke it would all go crazy. For a brief moment there was nothing, and then the object flew from the table, crashing on the opposite wall. We were now certain the man was also here tonight. The curtains were flying all over, the chair the woman sat the previous night was knocked on its side and the bathroom door slammed shut. We kept our cool, staying on the bed while it all happened.

Once it calmed down, my father spoke in a respectful manner, apologising for the inconvenience.

Suddenly I felt very heavy, my head weighted a ton and I felt I had to lie down and I could hear a whisper inside my head in a foreign language. My dad just watched, understanding more than I did what was going on. As I closed my eyes I could see the woman, still sitting on that chair. I opened my eyes and looked around. My father sat on the bed looking at me, and the chair was still knocked over. I closed my eyes again and I saw her once again, she was smiling. Suddenly her smile faded and I saw a shadow walking in from the bathroom. He was massive with a long dark hair and a clear pale skin. I couldn’t hold it looking at him for long so I opened my eyes. My father looked in the same direction as I saw the man coming from. The bathroom door was now open. He looked at me and with a smile asked if I was ok. I braved closing my eyes again and saw the man standing over the woman. She looked up at him in a mix of fear and anger. She then looked at me and I saw the most beautiful smile, probably ever. The man looked over in my direction and said something I couldn’t understand. I got slightly scared but managed to hold my eyes closed. She then translated it to me, he said “what do you want here?” I opened my eyes and saw my dad with his eyes closed. He looked up at me and told he heard it too. I stayed in the moment, but I gotta say that was the most amazing paranormal experience I had so far. We were both communicating with these two entities inside the same trance. As I joined the party once again the man was shouting abuse at the woman. I then felt a soothing and calming energy. Both of them looked around, at my direction but not at me. It was my father. I joined him in sending them the same energy, trying to calm things down. The woman looked at our direction and I saw what it seemed like tears. She said “thank you”. I could hear my father’s voice saying we were not here to disturb them, he said we are travellers passing by and will be on our way soon. The man looked at what I assumed was my dad’s direction and bowed in a respectful manner, saying something else. I heard the woman say “then you are welcome to stay and go in peace” the man now looked straight at me and said something. For a moment the air got heavier again, then the woman translated once again, “you be warned, stay away from my woman.” I heard my dad laughing. I told him he has nothing to worry as we will be on our way and his woman will stay with him, as long as he doesn’t mistreat her. She translated to him with a smile on her face. He looked at both of us, bowed once again and left the room. The woman looked at me and thanked me and then said I remind her of the man she wanted to marry but was chosen by this man instead. She went on to say he will not harm her and that he lives in constant fear that her lover will come for her. My father told her they should move on from here, as they will find peace by doing so. She got up, bowed down to us, then she walked in my direction, and with that beautiful smile still on her face she reached down as if to kiss me, but just before she did the whole thing was over. I opened my eyes and saw my father composing himself. He was quite touched by their story. We looked at each other and immediately burst out laughing. My dad then turned to me and said “ok, Casanova, let’s call it a night.”

I was sure I wouldn’t find anything more interesting in this whole town. That said, there was still the owner's room for the next night.

As I’m typing this on the bus, three stops away from home, I’m realising how long this post is. So I’m gonna do my usual splitting and will post the rest of the story next week. But don’t worry, I won’t take ages like with this one. I’m off again on Tuesday, so I’ll try and type the rest of the story and post it.

Until then,

Miles.

Letters From Ipswich part IV – Dreams

I know I’m getting carried away with the World Cup going on, but this week I wanted to post another letter from Nancy, as things get a bit darker for the poor girl.

Enjoy the read.

“Hi Mr. Cason.

It happened just like you said. The man got angry and now he started to break things in the house. He broke some cups in the kitchen and my mum thinks an animal got in the house. He also broke a picture from my dad in my bedroom. My mum thinks I did and she’s angry with me.

The bad dreams are still happening. I am looking down like you said, but I’m still so scared when I’m dreaming and I wake up shaking.

I had a dream with Johnny. He was floating trying to come down to the ground. He was crying and asking for my help, but I couldn’t move to help him.

At the end he just flew away and I was the one starting to float. It was very scary Mr Cason. What do I do? And can you please help Johnny?

Thank you.

Nancy.”

On a note on my father’s journal he mentions he didn’t want to tell Nancy how to fight off the man, as though she’s definitely brave, he believes she’s not strong enough to cope with the potential backlash from fighting an entity that seems to be quite powerful. He also writes of her compassion, specially with the boy Johnny, as she wants my father to help him first, not herself.

I hope I’ll have the time to type another letter for next week. In the meantime…

COME ON ENGLAND!!!

: - )

Miles.

World Cup time

Hello dear friends and readers.

I have been working hard lately, mainly I think due to the good(ish) weather and the World Cup. We have a TV at work, so I get to watch almost all the matches (just watched Japan beat Cameroon), but my time has been really short to do anything meaningful (not that watching England isn’t meaningful). I'm just glad I have my laptop to type blogs on the go.

I will post another Letter next week, or so I hope if the time allows me. I’ve been helping my mum with dealing with a lot of paperwork regarding our case and my dad’s possessions. It’s boring, time consuming and sad, as it keeps reminding us how much we miss him. I speak with my father a lot, even sometimes without noticing, I find myself telling him things that happened and thoughts I have about what to do next and how I want to be investigating and studying more and more about the Paranormal.

On a good note, an old colleague contacted me regarding a possible investigation. He thinks his flat is haunted. The best part is the location. The flat is near the beach. Very convenient. I’m glad he contacted me now, during the summer, otherwise it would have been depressing to run my first beach side investigation in the cold.

I’ll keep you guys updated on when this will happen, and of course I’ll blog about it. I hope to have more time to start editing my videos and posting them on YouTube again. I have quite a lot of material but no time to work on it.

I’ll get there, eventually.

So, let me pay my respect to all of you who are actively working in the field we love so much and specially the ones who do it for free and to help people out. I leave here my sincere respect to you all. 

Let me also use this opportunity to remind everyone reading my blog that there are a lot of respectable Paranormal Investigators out there that have experience and knowledge and don’t charge for an investigation. The aim is to educate and help those who have problems/confrontations with the Paranormal world. It’s a service, after all. We are your humble servants.

There. I said my bit.

Take care everyone and keep an eye on the blog next week for another letter from Nancy.

Love and respect,

Miles

Letters From Ipswich part III - The Conversation

Hello dear friends.

As the second part of the series was such a hit with my Facebook friends, here's Nancy's third letter to Mr. Cason.

I appreciate all the comments and support everyone is giving me. Thank you.

My friend Carl asked if I have met Nancy and unfortunately I haven't. I even asked my mum just to see if I knew her with a different name, like Mrs. Smith, but no. My mum has heard of her and the letters but has also never met her.

So, Nancy from Ipswich, if you are out there, and if by any chance you are on Facebook, we would love to say hello.

And now, the letter.

"Hello Mr. Cason.

Thank you for writing to me.

It was a good idea what you said about talking to them. I always talk with Johnny but I could never talk to the man. He did show up in my dreams like you told me to ask him and I did what you said. I looked down the whole time while he was in the dream so I wouldn't be scared.

I asked him what he wants and he said he wants his house back, so he is trying to scare Johnny away. Poor Johnny, I asked who that other woman was and the man started to cry, just like I hear sometimes at night. I think she was his girlfriend, but he wouldn't tell me. He told me something else but I don't remember everything. He spoke things I didn't understand, then I asked him to stop trying to hurt Johnny and he got angry and I woke up, scared.

Johnny hasn't talked with me since the dream, I am a bit worried. Is there something I can do to protect him and me and my mum from the man?

Thank you, Mr. Cason.

I hope the scary dreams stop now.

Nancy."

This advice my dad gave her on how to look down in your dreams is something he taught me at the beginning of my paranormal experience. He said you can never close your eyes in your dreams when there's something dark or scary there with you, mainly because you already have your eyes closed. So the solution is to look down, not to face whatever is there so you don't get scared and can control better what happens in your dreams. If you’re thinking it’s not possible to do such thing inside your own dreams, it’s all in the mindset, all registered in your subconscious as you go to sleep. It’s a handy skill to have, especially if you’re going to spend several nights in very active places.

Till next week, dear readers.

Thank you yet again,

Miles.

Letters From Ipswich part II – The Ghost Story

Hello everyone.

I got a lot of messages from Facebook friends to post this, and I thank all of you who responded to Nancy's letter.

Below is the letter where Nancy tells us, or Mr. Cason, why she wrote to my father in the first place.

Enjoy the read.

"Hello Mr. Cason.

You have the same name as my cousin Colin. That's funny.

Thank you for writing back to me. My Mum was wondering why someone still is writing to Mrs. Healy.

The ghost in my bedroom is called Johnny and he said he lived there since he was a boy. He talks to me while I sleep but I have never seen him. I am scared to see him when I am awake, because he is a ghost, and I am scared of ghosts.

Johnny says there is a man who lived in the house before him and he died in the house. I know that man. I can hear him crying in the kitchen and living room when I am in my bedroom at night. I never go to the bathroom by my self. I am too scared to see the man. I first heard the man's voice coming from my mum's bedroom and I thought it was her crying. I got up at night and went to see her. She was sleeping and there was no one else there. I jumped in her bed and stayed under the covers until she woke me up in the morning. I was very scared.

Sometimes I hear the man shouting at someone named John. I asked Johnny if it's him, but he said it's someone else. Johnny thinks is the man's son. I wish he would stop crying and screaming during the night. It's sad and it scares me a lot.

I used to hear a woman's voice too, and I think I saw her once outside in the garden, she was wearing a dress and she looked like my mum. She is not here anymore. Maybe the man scared her too.

What do I do to get the man to go away, or to stop trying to hurt Johnny?

Thank you Mr. Cason.

Nancy."

The Election

Hello dear friends. First of all, thank you all for the comments on the previous post. I will post Nancy's letters on the blog, starting next week.

I was off and followed the Election Day in the UK. What a fun day that was. I realise it's one of those days that can change the world, let alone our lives here in Britain, but after following all the debates and news headlines, it was fun to see it all come down to this one day, where those who can be bothered left their house to their nearest polling station to cast a vote on some clown who will now rule the country. I went out and voted, early, to avoid big queues. The service on my local station was slow, so I imagine anyone who arrived in the evening had to endure long queues and even the disappointment of not voting.

The wait for the final tally was even more exciting, with news channels and most of terrestrial TV taken over by it.

After all that, we still didn't have a new Prime Minister and Gordon Brown was still the Prime Minister until further notice, or until the next election.

So, after many closed door meetings and vague TV appearances, Mr David Cameron is our new Prime Minister, with Mr Nick Clegg as his Deputy.

It’s certainly an exciting new time and I hope that all the promises that never become reality will not be totally forgotten and we will see some improvement on our economy and the mess the country was headed into. I can say that London at least needs a hell of a clean up, so I hope Mr. Cameron is up to the challenge and will deliver it.

OK, I got that off my chest. I hope this will be my last post with politics on it.

Keep an eye on this blog next Monday for another Letter From Ipswich.

Like a politician, I promise not to delay any more posts.

Let's see how I manage to keep my promise to my readers.

Until then.

Love,

Miles.

Letters From Ipswich

Looking through my father's journals I found a bunch of letters addressed to Mr Cason that I've never heard of. They were from a woman named Nancy and as I read them two things were clear, one, she wrote the letters in 1976, and two, Nancy was no older than 8 when she wrote it.

I'm thinking of posting a few of those letters here. Some are short and some don't make sense without reading my father's letter to her, but there are some gems of paranormal stories.
To give you a taste, here's the first letter, the introductory one.

"Hello Mr. Cason.
My name is Nancy, I live in Ipswich with my Mum. I heard the minister at the church tell a man that you know what to do if there is a ghost in my house. I think I have at least one ghost in my bedroom.
My Mum does not believe me and the minister spoke with her when I asked if he could talk to the ghosts and she didn't like it.
If you know what to do, please write back to me and I will tell you about my ghosts.
Please write your letter to Lucy Healy, she was the woman who lived here before us, so my Mum will not open your letter.
If you don't know what I am talking about, I am sorry for the trouble.

Thank you Mr Cason.

With regards,

Nancy"

Adorable, isn't it? Anyone fancy reading the letters? Let me know here or on my Facebook group (just click on the Facebook logo on the right of this page)

Thank you my friends,

With regards,

Miles.

The MP Job

Hello dear friends.

I've been following all the election debates and also the MP expenses scandals on the news. We know the newspapers tend to exaggerate facts, but it doesn't look good on the politicians how so many people are getting away with murder, or getting away with our money. Politics get my blood boiling, so let's get back to the Paranormal.

Some ten years back me and my dad did an investigation for a politician, a MP. He had a mansion somewhere in Buckinghamshire, beautiful place. Before he bought it the mansion belonged to a Lord who had no heir, the place was on the man's family since the 1700's.

The MP met us at the town centre and we followed him to the house. The place was both beautiful and creepy. The owner himself hadn't encountered anything while staying there, but his staff constantly complained of noises, voices, the presence of someone in the room when they're alone and the odd apparition.

My dad divided the place so we could cover more ground in the five nights we were staying. After the initial interview the MP went away and we had his housekeeper guide us through the many rooms and corridors. Oh, and stairs, lots and lots of stairs.

After the tour each of us went to our half of the mansion, working on a floor per night to cover the whole place in time.
I had the kitchen, staff quarters, a massive storage room and a few bedrooms, including a big unused one on the top floor.
Based on all the information we got I started with the staff quarters, which comprised four bedrooms, a shower room with changing room and one small extra kitchen. I did my baseline readings throughout the whole area so I could investigate specific rooms during the second night.

I got nothing strange in the rooms I stayed over the first night. My father got a couple of whispers and the odd moving object. One staff complained of the shadow of a man walking past her bed. She stayed in one of the usually empty rooms while I investigated their quarters.

For the second night I asked the housekeeper to spend the night in the staff quarter as usual, which he reluctantly agreed. I wanted to check the bedroom without missing out on any activity downstairs.
The readings in the room upstairs were completely different from what I got the night before, and I got no activity at all. Down in the staff quarters a staff member was woken up by a scary image of a couple staring down at her next to her bed. Seems like something here likes to show its face, but not to me or my dad. He got some moving objects again and heard laughter coming from an empty room.

The morning after the second night he got all staff together for a meeting. My father told me he suspected someone could be playing a prank on them all, so he asked everyone to leave the house for the next night. We called the MP, who told them to stay at another house he owned in a nearby town. I wonder now if he ever used taxpayers' money to have that one.

So, without any staff, my father and I roamed the empty rooms and corridors of this creepy mansion.
A couple of hours through our investigation we both heard footsteps, voices, laughter and the odd scream here and there. We checked what had been recorded so far, which I think my father did to confirm if there was no staff member hiding somewhere. Since there wasn't and our readings were all spiking, my father concluded they were a few poltergeist in the house and considering the history of the place, they would not leave quietly. We both went to bed early that night.

We woke up around 8am, packed the car with a few empty water bottles and left for the nearest church. We filled all the bottles with Holy Water and drove back.
By the time we got to the mansion everyone was there. The Holy Water was poured into a few mop buckets and we divided into groups to mop the whole house. Simple, effective and helps with the daily cleaning chores.
We spent the night to make sure it worked. No sounds, no voices, no spikes in our readers. Job done.

We called the MP in the morning with the result of our work and he was very happy. He insisted in paying my father, which we refused. On the drive back we joked about the possibilities of the man using taxpayers' money to buy the mansion and wanting to use the same money to pay us. Maybe we had a vision of the future where MP's would do that. My father kept using Nixon's old line "I'm not a crook". Good times.

And the MP name is … Gordon Brown.

Only joking. We signed an agreement never to reveal his identity, but I will reveal if his name appears in that list of shame of the expenses scandal.

Till next week.

Love,

Miles.

Court Case

Hello dear readers.

I got a few messages from you, my online friends, about the farm investigation story. I'm really happy to have shared that with you all. I've know that story for a long time and it is a touching and remarkable one. Thanks for all the comments and messages I got.

We had a meeting with a lot of lawyers in it last week. There was our lawyer, the lawyers we are trying to win against to get our inheritance back and their lawyers. Thankfully there was a representative of the Royal Courts, or it would have been a meeting of blabbering and bullshitting. I can only mention this because our lawyer was nice enough to guarantee I can blog about whatever I want. The other side tried and persuade us to accept a deal and settle this out of court, but we've been fooled and deceived by them before, so we want the protection of the court behind us. We're gonna get a date hopefully before the Summer. Now we have to wait until the Royal Courts find a slot for our case.

Fingers crossed. According to everyone we have a very good chance of winning this case, which means I can go back to investigating full time again.

I'll keep you guys updated.

Love,

Miles.

Mrs Hendricks' farm – pt. 2

Hello friends.

As promised and on time, here's the rest of the story I got from my dad's journals about Mrs Hendricks' farm.

"Third night.
After last night's activity I decided to stay indoors as my presence outside seemed to cause something of a commotion.
I had gathered enough baseline information on several rooms inside, so I could study the reason behind this activity. I can say it is an intense case but something tells me it's not aggressive. I have come to doubt my own conclusion every time I remember that a man has died as a result of his encounters with this entity.

Temperature data was not enough to help me identify a specific location or source for what's happening here. Magnetically I got readings in the main bedroom and the kitchen. There's a lot of static in the bedroom, which can be misinterpreted sometimes. I set up my video and audio recorders in the kitchen and stationed myself in the bedroom.
There were spikes and noises from as early as 9pm. I once again tried contacting it a few times and got no reply of any kind. I'll check the recordings in the morning hoping I got better luck in the kitchen."

"Morning of the fourth day.
Interesting development after I checked my recordings. First there was a voice, or more like a grunt, on the sound recorder. The video showed a cupboard door opening and closing. After checking the time of each phenomenon I found it happened each time I tried and contact the entity in the bedroom. Easy decision, easy solution, tonight I will concentrate my efforts in the kitchen."

"Fourth and last night.

This is the first night Mrs Hendricks is joining me. I assured nothing would harm her as long as she sticks with me. She took a seat at the kitchen while I set up my equipment. Proving she was quite nervous about the experience, she kept chit chatting throughout, in contrast to her usual quiet and reserved self.
I asked politely for some silence as I attempted contact. A noise was heard near the cupboard. I enquired as to the contents and was told only cups and mugs were kept there. She got up and grabbed a broom, "just in case is a rat" she said. Now I was frightened. Not a big fan of rodents.
I approached the cupboard door and called for it again. Another noise from inside, this time louder. I started asking basic questions to the entity, which I don't usually do, but I had to try and understand why it was manifesting inside this confined space. Thoughts came through my mind. Was I right in my first analysis and this is a poltergeist and as soon as I open this door a mug will fly right at me? Or is it something inside bothering it so much it has to be haunting the people in the house?
The noise from inside kept happening after every question I asked. It clearly lost patience with me as several cupboard doors start to open and close. My first reaction was to check Mrs Hendricks, who was paralysed looking at it in terror. I told her it was nothing to be worried about and stopped my interrogation not to provoke any more similar activity.
I approached the cupboard and opened it carefully. Nothing happened. I checked my readings and it was all the same still, but there was no sign of it. I looked around and found mostly regular looking cups and mugs and one old tea pot at the back. I asked her if all these items were hers and she started to point out the ones that were or not. The tea pot was in the house when they bought the farm. I remembered they got the place at an auction because the owner, a lady who lived by herself, had died with no one to leave it for. It all seemed clear then. I took the tea pot and to our surprise the kitchen door to the outside flung open. Without hesitating I took it out and could feel the pressure on top of this small object, similar to a strong wind pushing you, almost steering as you walk down the road. I dared not to open it indoors, afraid it could do more harm than good. I kept walking allowing the unseen to guide me. We reached a river that runs in the back of the farm. The pressure stopped. I opened the tea pot and was surprised to find a military medal of honour, a goodbye letter and two wedding rings. Both living people were very touched at that moment. We were brought back to reality as a noise was heard in the water. We looked for a while waiting. Another noise, similar to a pebble thrown in the water. I got the hint, approached the bank of the river, emptied the contents of the tea pot in the water and threw it as well. Mrs Hendricks and I stood there looking at the river. She started to cry and I imagined that cry contained her sadness at the old woman story, at her terror in the hands of that spirit and the loss of her own husband."

"Conclusions.
Halfway through this investigation I had a hunch this entity was not aggressive and Harold Hendricks' death was more an accident than some evil doing from this lost soul. By finding the object that belonged to the deceased and releasing its contents away from the house the energy inside changed completely and it was safe to assume no more haunting was gonna happen there. One odd thing was the presence of the same amount of static in the bedroom as before, but after analysing all the information Mrs Hendricks told me that last night I've come to the conclusion the static was the result of the fear and dread the couple had gone through every time they spent the night at the farm. That would account for the lack of contact from the entity in the room. Fear it seems can keep some spirits away, it's too strong an emotion and it releases a lot of energy into the space around us. Job done, but this one will stay with me for a long time."

On a later journal I read an entry where my dad found out the woman's husband was a sailor and his ship was sunk in the Atlantic by a German sub, she never remarried and died alone at their farm. Sad story indeed. Mrs Hendricks died a couple of years later. She left the farm for the British Legion.

This was one of the first stories my dad told me as he was revealing his work as a paranormal investigator, after I had my own first experience. I have never come across a similar case in all my years investigating, so I find this one really interesting. As a kid I remember getting scared that some of the old pieces of furniture we had in the house would bring its former owner to haunt my bedroom.

Hope you enjoy the read.

Love,

Miles.

Easter break?

Hello everyone.

Today's the first day off I have in a week. Where usually I'd look forward to the Easter break, this year I can't wait for it to be over. Maybe Jamie Oliver is right and we eat way too much junk food. I'm one to talk, I eat a lot of it and I now work at a junk food place. This past week and a half have been so busy at work that I've seen my boss actually smiling for the first time since I started working there.

How come we love burgers so much? Even when we're apparently not supposed to eat it. There's this regular costumer who loves our cheeseburger, she came by on Saturday and ordered a chicken burger. When asked by me why the change she reminded me we are all Christians after all and you shouldn't eat red meat during the Easter weekend. I couldn't help myself looking around and seeing how many red meat burger orders were being made at that very moment. It seems we can't help ourselves. I finished my day with a fish and chips lunch, just in case.

The amount of hours I'm working this week is the reason I didn't have time to type the second part of Mrs Hendricks farm story. I know what you thinking, instead to telling you why it's not up I should be posting it, right? Wrong, I like to keep the suspense. My favourite stories and films have a lot of suspense and don't simply tell you what's gonna happen.

So, I'll type and prepare the second part of that story and will post it on Monday.

Until then, enjoy your week and the rest of the break, for those who actually have one :-)

Love,

Miles.

Mrs. Hendricks Farm – pt. 1

Hello dear readers.

My mum is still on a decluttering frenzy and we spent every free hour of last week going through papers, books and other rubbish my dad left behind. I had to hurry my search for his journals, afraid she would throw them away.

I am very pleased to have found a certain journal I've been looking for.
I remember my dad telling me this story, it was always interesting but as I read his diary I found out how deep an impact it had on all involved, including my father.
In his diary he writes about learning to cope with the weight of your decisions and the effect they might have on someone else's life that is out of your control.

Here's what he wrote, and again, I edited slightly to make it easier to read. It's a long read, so I'll post it in two parts. No surprise there :-)

"It's almost spring now. We've been through another cold week, winter's last breath before the warmth arrives. Had a busy season with investigations, plus there was a new collection to catalogue at work that kept me off the field for a couple of weeks.
Received a phone call from Mrs Hendricks, she sounded quite desperate. She's been trying to reach me for months, I apologised for missing all of her calls and blamed on work, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't want to have an investigation on a farm in the middle of winter. To my surprise, their haunting problem was still going on. I agreed to spend a long weekend over at theirs next week and was puzzled at her reaction when I sent my regards to her husband, Harold. She simply grunted and said she would be expecting me the following week."

"This is my first night at Mrs Hendricks' farm. I arrived shortly after lunch, she offered me some food, but I had stopped on the road to eat at a roadside restaurant. I got a strange feeling as I got there and her attitude to me did not help dissuade that idea. My heart sunk as I asked her about Harold, and she bluntly turned around and said he was dead. I did not know what to say and whatever I said would not change the feeling in my heart that I had something to do with their current predicament.
She showed me to my room and I settled my things and started to set up my equipment. I asked Mrs Hendricks to have a chat about all that had happened after a few sentences I could tell they had a poltergeist, an entity that wanted to cause trouble and wreak havoc in their lives. What can I say? It was doing a great job. Harold could not just leave it alone and refrain from visiting the farm, he wanted answers and he wanted peace to enjoy his property. After a few close encounters he suffered a heart attack and did not recover from it. I feel somewhat responsible for his fate as I refused to investigate their problem. I know of persistent entities and even of cases where you can feel the fear in the air as the entity projects their hate, like in that hotel in Cornwall, but I never heard of an entity scaring someone so bad their heart stops.
Well, on with work. I started to gather baseline readings throughout the place and the outside, which according to her there was always something going on. I recorded the drop on temperature for this night, hoping that will tell me something tomorrow, as I got quite a lot of blurs and strange dots on my photographs and my reading got a couple of spikes throughout the night. It is very late and morning approaches, I am going to bed. More work tomorrow."

"Second night. Temperature readings outside being different at every couple of meters and twice more spikes on my reader convinced me this spot was popular. I heard noises but that’s hard to differentiate from the animals and insects around me, so I paid no attention to them. I decided to try and contact the entity and was received badly, with something suddenly moving nearby, a piece of branch by the sound of it. I stayed quiet for a minute and tried again. Nothing. I would feel this sudden sensation someone just pushed me, but there was nothing but air. This happened thrice in a very short time, which made me feel very silly and defenseless. I did not want to upset the entity any further by trying to fight it, that's not why I'm here. I changed positions slightly in an attempt to understand the reason behind the supposed attack. I soon realised one specific location was not the problem, this lost soul did not want me out here. On a first instinct I started to look around the area surrounding the house, trying to find clues to such an intense presence. The more I looked the more I got shivers, whispers and things moving around me. There was someone around, all my instruments proved that beyond all I could feel, but every time I try and establish contact I would either get nothing or just something moving, sometimes in my direction.
Tomorrow I'll have to rethink my approach to this investigation."

OK, that's it for part 1. I'll type and post the second part on Monday.
Did anyone spot the Jamaica Inn mention?

Miles.

So little time...

Hello dear readers,

These last week has been busy but nothing too exciting, first I've helped a friend move houses, from a second floor flat in one place to a fifth floor flat somewhere else, all in East London. The funny part was the broken lift on the new place, which meant a lot of trips carrying boxes up the stairs. Good thing I'm young, only 30 :-)

After a couple of days rest from that but still at work, my mother asked me to help her clear some stuff my dad had lying around in the spare bedroom and his office. It was a lot of stuff, mostly papers and books and pictures. It took us a couple of days to go through it all, which inspired me to find some more old journals from my dad. I'm still looking through them to find some interesting stories to post. Haven't found the one I really want, which was briefly mentioned on a blog in January, Mrs. Hendricks' farm investigation. I'd find it and post it soon.

Sorry for no juicy stories this week. An investigator I know commented on my luck in finding activity during my investigations, which I admit, I get lucky, but it also helps that I have a certain state of mind to approach the investigations to ease the energy going around and facilitate the contact with whoever is there. It's part of what my granddad and my dad have taught me over the years.

So, looking forward to some juicy stories for next week.

Until then, take care everyone and thank you all yet again for the great comments and messages I get every time I post something. Thank you.

Love,

Miles.

Comeback

Hello dear readers.

It seems my Church investigation has started something of a comeback tour.
I got a call from the Midlands' priest, first thanking me for the result of my work, then mentioning a friend with a similar problem of sorts.
As my burger flipping life doesn't afford long breaks from work, the good priest got his friend to pay me for my services. I feel bad charging, but if it's the only way to accomplish that, so be it.

So, off to the Midlands once again, and once again I can't say where exactly. This time I was going to a different kind of temple, a cinema.
Apparently patrons and staff have seen a couple of apparitions in two of their auditoriums. The place is an old classic theatre turned one big cinema screen turned 4 screens multiplex. I had a long chat with the owner, where I got a lot of details but asked him not to tell me which screens were the haunted ones. I then visited all auditoriums to set baseline readings for the whole place and immediately could see on my tri-meter that two rooms had some big electromagnetic pull. I had a few nights, so I decided to do a thorough investigation.
First night I stayed on one of the more active screen and set my camera in one of the supposed calm ones. I heard noises, felt sudden cold drafts and picked up some sound disturbances on my EVP recorder. By morning I had one positively identified room. The camera picked up nothing unusual, so I discarded that room.
Second night I set up the camera on the same room I was the night before, screen 3, while I stayed on another supposed problematic one, screen 4. I had a quiet night, registering only a few disturbances on the tri-meter and a few changes of temperatures that seemed out of the ordinary. By morning I checked the camera recordings and was not surprised to see a ceiling light swinging around a couple of times during the night. According to the time, it was around the same time I picked up EVP sounds the night before. My investigation in that room was complete, all I had left was to figure it out who or what was doing it all.
Third night was a busy night for the cinema and there were complaints of voices during the film, but strangely enough no one admitted to talking. Guess which screen that was? There were also more people losing things in the screen, mostly hats, which the owner told me about had been happening for a while. The staff was investigated but nothing was found. We picked up some lost property found in other screens and left scattered in the room for the night. I set up my camera in that room, tempted by the idea of capturing some escaping clothing. I spent the night on the same screen as the previous night, as it was the day it usually recorded more activity, according to the info I was given. Patrons had not seen anything strange, but I found strange that most people left the screen with the same bored and sleepy expressions, which I found odd since they were watching a high paced action film. Maybe it was just a shit movie, but something seemed wrong. Not more than an hour in the room and I started to fell the same, some weight put on me that seemed to take away my energy. I had to get up and pace the room not to fall asleep. This time around I heard footsteps from the back rows and could swear I heard whispers. Busy night.
In the morning I curiously checked the lost property and it was all gone. I was the first in the screen and the place was unusually cold. I went through the video recordings and could not see anything, but picked up what seemed to be orbs appearing a few times on a corner of the image/room. I checked the location and it was the air conditioning vent, coming down from the ceiling. When the owner arrived I asked him to double check inside the vent and on the vertical one we saw nothing, but there was a smell of burning clothes, similar to when you just ironed a jumper. As the air came from the vents high in the ceiling, the owner picked up his ladder and to our surprise we found about two dozens of hats and scarves scattered across the air vent at the ceiling. He was positively freaked out and I had to hide my amusement at seeing him lose it a bit. It's understandable when one's not used to dealing with these situations. As nothing as unusual was happening on the other screens I set up camp on this one, armed with all I brought with me, to try and contact this entity and hopefully capture on video.

It didn’t take long for the entity to announce itself to me, by making noises rattling seats. I kept my cool and started to talk to it, trying to establish its intentions. That didn’t take long either, with a hat I left somewhere in the room flying towards me. I was startled a bit by that one, but happy to have captured it on camera, I’ll post that video on YouTube someday. I then announced my intentions to clear this building of all negative activity, asking it to go away peacefully or to be forced out by me. More rattling of seats and another hat flying the room. Both of us seemed to know what we were doing, as I prepared some of my items to scare it off I was presented by an apparition, right in front of me. That certainly made me jump and left me with a taste of revenge against this poltergeist. I believe it felt my anger as things started to fly around again. I took my Holy Water spray gun and I think it felt how serious I was about this. It appeared in front of me again and it wasn’t happy. Another hat hit me in the face, but none of that stopped me from spraying Holy Water all over the seats. The more I did, more noise and rattling happened. It all stopped once I got to the back row. The only place left to spray was the small stage in front of the screen. As I approached it I heard a crying, sort of a wailing noise. I sprayed the stage and around the screen and immediately felt lighter, as if I’ve been holding my breath all this time. I moved to the other screens and without any interruption or resistance I sprayed the rest of the building. In the morning the manager asked me where the water comes from and he was happy to know it came from our mutual friend, the priest who got me this investigation. We came to the conclusion that the entity was once a theatre person who didn’t want to leave this place and was upset that the theatre gave way to the four screens.
I was well tired after these last few nights, but also very happy to be back to my real work.
Until my next job I’ll have to go back to flipping burgers, waiting for another haunting to get out of hand so I can be summoned again. I feel like a Paranormal Indiana Jones, minus the hat.

Till next week, hopefully.

Love,

Miles.