There were still a couple of hours of daylight left when we set off for the wood. I was wrapped up against the chill in a heavy coat and gloves, but Bill wore only his threadbare jacket. I’ve bought him gloves and hats in the past, but he refuses to wear them. He says he’s used to the cold, though the state of his skin belies this, as his cheeks are red and threaded with veins and his hands dry and sore-looking.

“I can’t understand how it’s gotten so cold,” I shivered, as we steppe...

As hauntings go, the story I’m about to tell you is a fairly recent one. It began in the 1940s, so those of you who remember halfpennies and sixpences, can cast your minds eye back to the time. I first heard about the ghost a week ago and started my investigations right away.

You know from reading my blog that it’s set in a country pub and I will start by telling you a little about the place. It is in the midlands, in a rather remote spot, just outside a village. I will call it Morris’s ...

In the not too distant past, every town had a place of execution and to spare the gentlefolk the horror of the swaying rope; they sited many of these places well outside the city limits.  

The house I’m going to tell you about tonight, is not shy about its past, though the plaque bearing its name has been taken down. Built in 1746, or so the stone above the door declares, it stand in a lonesome spot in County Clare. I will tell about its history in a moment, but first let me tell you about t...