Let me set the scene!

Updated: Jan 31

My accounts of the incidents related here come after several years of activity at home that began small and then escalated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking levitating sofas and hooded figures gliding past my bedroom door, but in some ways what happened was just as disturbing, for myself at least. But come to think of it, things did levitate, and there was much gliding of objects if not hooded figures!

Let me set the scene.


My other half and I moved into our 80’s semi in a lovely quiet road in Somerset in 2017, and shortly afterwards I began investigating EVP full on. I now had pretty much unlimited access to one of the most incredible historical sites that anyone could wish for, interested in the paranormal or not. For me, HMP Shepton Mallet is better than Disney World to a five year old. It gives, and just keeps on giving. To date I have over five thousand EVP captures from the prison that closed in 2013 (built as a house of correction in 1610). I investigate 90% of the time solo to get the best results and to discount audio pollution from another person bodily present, but I digress.


The very night after I spent my first twelve hour session at the prison things began to happen.

Jack my partner (now husband) works abroad with only limited time back at home with me, which was fine, I was used to it. But that first weird night he wasn’t at home, and I wished oh so much that he had been.


We were re-decorating and the main bedroom was out of order for a while, so I bedded down in the spare room. The bed was ridiculously comfortable, and feeling sapped of energy and yet very alive (you know how it is after a good investigating session) and I sunk switched the bedside lamp out and sighed satisfactorily. As my head hit the pillow and I began to recount the experience of last night, the room was achingly silent. For all of ten seconds, for then, jolting me out of my reverie, came the noises.


On the little table inches away from my head, my Bluetooth speaker began to rock. Aside from the lamp and my water glass it was the only object on the table, and I’d only just seen it as I turned the light out.

It rapped loudly and deliberately corner to corner or side to side. About one knock a second that lasted around (if felt ages but in actuality was more like...) seven seconds. Knock. Knock. Knock…

The old saying ‘frozen with fear’ wasn’t quite accurate here for although I was dead still in shock, I could feel my entire body begin to sweat. It was a natural reaction to a ‘what the hell is happening here?!’ moment, and it was rapidly becoming rammed into my self that THIS WAS REAL. This was ACTUALLY HAPPENING.


I quite literally couldn’t move. Whatever was happening was going on less than a foot from my face and it was LOUD. Suddenly the noises stopped and I launched myself upright and flicked that switch, and the room became illuminated. There sat the speaker, innocent, and in the middle of the table. Heard thudding, I just stared. Now I felt frozen, goosebumps were popping up all over my arms, and I remember a lightness of head and mild shake of the hands as the heart rate steadied, and I began to accept that something totally inexplicable had just occurred. Since that night I’m ashamed to say that the light stays on when I’m home alone, which due to circumstances, is quite a bit.


That said, the light being on does not stop activity, it simply enables instant visual clarification of what (if anything) is going on. Just like on the night for example, when I was lying on my side listening to an audio book. I find it helps me relax before being ready to sleep, and I wasn’t particularly tired.


I was lying facing out of the bed, Jack’s side empty as he was in Holland working. I used to make a point of leaving the pillows on his side even when he wasn’t home, because it made the place feel less empty. Does that make sense? I actually remember talking out loud to myself saying this as I made the bed that night.


Well, apparently someone was listening, because ten minutes after I lay down to listen to my audio book, I turned around to face the other way – and was presented with an entirely empty bed! Jack’s three pillows were not there. I sat bolt upright. I hadn’t been to sleep, I hadn’t thrashed around and knocked them to the floor… Where were they? I tentatively peeked over the edge, his side, my side. Nothing. Then I got up and saw them. They were neatly stacked up by the bedroom door.


The regular succession of activity that started as a once every few weeks kind of deal, soon began to become every week, then twice, three times a week, then every day. Not just night times either, but mornings afternoons and evenings! To start it was when I was alone, and then it happened when Jack was home on leave too, and he began to get concerned. The obvious thing to do was to blame me for my ‘hobby’ and what I’d likely brought home with me, but I think there’s much more to it than that.


Where we live is an incredibly historic area, the houses on our street built on land that was a medieval monastery, and before that it was on the outer edge of a Roman settlement then known as Lendiniae. Given the life and energy that had always been present on this very patch of land I’d be incredibly surprised if there wasn’t some sort of latent power ready to be unlocked if and when the right circumstances/person came along, and perhaps what with my paranormal ‘doings’, I became the switch that enabled the activity to begin.


Was I a conduit? During lockdown one I had some bad family news, and I became incredibly low and depressed. At this time the activity picked up again, despite my having had to ask a medium friend to come and help me out. You hear of how in poltergeist cases the victim is usually undergoing some sort of mental or emotional trauma, well perhaps it’s not just limited to teenagers. Were my messed up feelings at that time lighting the touch paper to anomalous phenomena? Was this actually mingling with the already present entity who I personally believed had always resided at our house, and perhaps intertwining with those whom I regularly interact on my EVP jaunts?


The medium who visited me is someone with whom I had met during my investigations at HMP Shepton Mallet, and she is a trustworthy introvert and incredibly talented lady. She is also an artist, and sketches her ghostly communicators. She always checked up on how I was doing, and we regularly spoke. Knowing that she was there for me was a huge comfort, so as the weird stuff at home began to escalate in regularity and ferocity, I decided it was time to get her in. An hour before she arrived our Henry Hoover lifted calmly into the air, and down again. I just watched it, no longer surprised, just a little fed up.


Carolyn visited me at lunchtime on November 11th 2019. She spent a good couple of hours with me, going round the house doing her thing, and then declared that this particular entity (non-human, very short, low intelligence, crafty) was gone. That was good news, as just prior to her visit, things went a little crazy. Here are just a few examples...


Jack was on the PlayStation one night as I was in the kitchen preparing dinner, and he yells out. He’s staring at his forearm. There were three long scratches welling up, almost like cat scratches on the verge of bleeding. He assures me that he did not do this himself, that it began as a burning sensation as if someone was holding a lighter not far from his skin. Then he looked down and saw the red lines begin to appear.


The week before, I had two friends over one evening. We went out for a takeaway in the village and I contemplated not locking the front door as it’s very nearby, and Ilchester is incredibly safe. Anyway, I am glad that I did lock it and take the keys, as on our return, the porch door that had been wedged open by our beanbag bunny, was firmly shut. If I hadn’t had my keys it would have been a case of going next door and clambering over their fence and smashing the conservatory door to get in. Thank goodness for small mercies, and all that!


That same morning I’d been in the kitchen rummaging for wine in the cupboard for our evening get together, when the same porch door which is big and heavy, slammed violently shut (again, despite the presence of beanbag bunny and the fact that no windows or doors were open anywhere). It is one of those doors that requires a good push of the hip to get it closed, as the airlock inside the porch makes it awkward to click shut. So that was that.


Things began to happen that seemed mischievous, and cunning. Like framed pictures hung around the corner of the landing, banging on our bedroom door at midnight for me to discover it wedged directly outside our room in the landing railing.


Coming into the spare room in the morning to draw the curtains only to find that not only are the curtains already opened, but that the two windows were wide open too. This was in November, it was chilly, and I had not done this myself the previous day!


Lights going on during the night downstairs or on the landing happened at least five times too. As I’ve said, I slept with the bedroom light on when Jack was away, and I keep the landing one on too. However, opening the bedroom door to go to the bathroom in the early hours to be presented with darkness on the landing, also became commonplace. The first time it happened I assumed that the bulb had blown, and flicked the switch just in case, and on came the light.

Regularly I’d go downstairs in the morning to find the lights all on, and once, the extractor fan whirring away loudly on setting three.


I’ve had lightbulbs shatter explosively as I’ve been writing about a similar incident experienced by a friend listening to my EVPs (his dongle flew out of his laptop and the bulb overhead shattered, raining glass onto his computer, which was now totally dead) downstairs. It was so loud it sounded as if someone had smashed a bottle on the wall next to me, but there was nothing there. I ran downstairs, heart thudding wondering what on earth had happened this time? A thousand slim shards of glass decorated the living room, and had melted to the carpet. I’m still finding bits now in plant pots and underneath furnishings. As this happened, the alarm on the oven went off (even though I wasn’t using it) and the separate light fitting in the back part of the living room, went off.


More recently it’s been things like the TV in the bedroom coming on when I’m in another room, when the remote is on the dresser or on the side table. Once it happened when the television wasn’t even plugged in.


I’ve returned to the living room one blinding summer’s day as I was getting a BBQ ready in the garden to find my loose change on the table, standing proud on their spines when just minutes before, I’d tipped them out of my purse to see what I’d got left over from my holiday. I naturally set the K2 and my voice recorder in place on the table, and the K2 shot and stayed on red for around ten minutes, and the recorder captured two voices. One was indistinct, the other a man saying, “We’re bored, ducks!”


So yes, there two coins, a whole seventy cents standing to attention for a good few hours before they settled themselves back down some four hour later, as I popped upstairs to the loo. When I came down, they were normal and the K2 was just on green.


But the last, most drastic occurrence, happened in July 2020 when I was at my most disturbed during lockdown and after my family news that involved two parents, and three cancers.


It was a gloriously rare summer’s day, the sort we don’t usually get in England. I had the doors open, and was slow cooking a Greek meal for that evening’s dinner. I had the pot in the oven, and the dials were set to 150 degrees and on the fan setting.


I went upstairs to work on my EVP catalogue, becoming rather engrossed as I’m sure you’ll understand. Around two hours went by, and I came to my senses and realised that as I pulled out my earphones, I could not hear the oven, or could I smell any foody aromas wafting about the house, as there should well have been by now.


Puzzled, I went down to the kitchen to silence. The oven dials were off, and as I opened the door, only the vaguest hint of warmth seeped out. The oven I’m guessing, had bee turned off shortly after I turned it on! The dials are not digital touchscreen ones, but have to be physically moved round, and they’re quite stubborn.


I began to get the feeling that this was the work of whatever or whoever it was still resided with me. So, I did what anyone would do – I saged the place, going room to room with windows open as the majority of guides recommend.

I also set up my camcorder on the worktop facing the oven dials. If this was going to happen again, boy was I going to capture it!!


I mulled over the ways I should point the camera to begin with, out loud. This tends to happen the more time one spends alone! Should it be the entire kitchen or just focus on the dials in shot? If it was the whole kitchen bits of it would be off screen including the upper part of the cooker, and if something did move the dials I might not get it in detail. So I (stupidly) opted for the up-close dial version. Oh how I wish I hadn’t!


I mooched back upstairs in a grumpy uneasy mood. Was this really starting up again? I sighed and prepared myself for yet more sleepless nights, and I rang my Mother in Kent, and explained what just happened. She said she was concerned for me as this sort of thing had been going on for too long, even after Carolyn’s visit. Just as our conversation was drawing to a close, there came an enormous metallic crash from downstairs. I rolled my eyes, put the phone down, and filmed my descent of the stairs, round the corner and into the kitchen.


Oven, still on. Nothing obvious…. Then I saw it. One of our foot long metal BBQ skewers had taken flight from inside the corner unit, jumped over a plastic storage box that was the receptical for our cleaning sprays etc., and landed about three feet away from where it had been lying inside the unit.

I was as they say, gobsmacked. And SO frustrated! If I had left the camcorder running the length of the kitchen and NOT at the dials, this would have been captured! As it was I had some great audio and as it turns out, an EVP of a gent’ saying “We’re ions…” when I first set the camera to record and I asked who was responsible for the oven fiasco.


Thank goodness I had the audio at least – even if it does give me chills to listen to it back.


All of these happenings are true, and happened to me at home. They are plentiful and varied in mischievous presentation, if indeed ‘an entity’ is to blame. Is the desire to imagine a human entity simply the need of the Homo sapien to identify and to try to understand such events? I believe that sometimes it is a case of psychokinesis, at others a genuine entity. Sometimes a concoction of both! Personally I think that this is the case in my home, but of course it differs place to place, person to person, situation to situation. It’s the combination of factors and elements, multi-dimensional aspects that cook up and mingle at different times and in different ways. After all it takes more than one strand to make a rope, more than one ingredient to make a pie, and the outcome all depends on what, how, and when things are brought together. I think it’s exactly the same principle for all anomalous phenomena.


There have been multitudes of things happen when I’m out visiting a location, most notably at my favourite haunt, the prison at Shepton Mallet that I’ve visited in excess of ninety times. The happenings are so numerous and incredible that to list them all here would mean that you’d be reading for hours, but suffice to say, they have shaken, enthused, and enthralled me. The place is a veritable paranormal gold mine! I don’t just mean EVPs either, although the place continues to throw up the most phenomenal captures, but also many in-the-moment physical did that ACTUALLY just happen?! events too.


All in all I feel blessed that these most incredible things have happened and continue to happen, and that I’m not alone in just knowing, that there’s more to life than well...life.


It’s good to know there’s so many others out there who think and feel the same.

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