Up the street at the weekend there was an inflatable sinking Titanic at a kids’ party! Not sure how I feel about this. Although in fairness I didn’t realise what it was until my daughter and my friend pointed it out – and I’d walked past it twice! D’oh!
In a hundred years time will we see inflatable World Trade Centre bouncy castles? Grenfell Tower garden chimineas? A national tragedy reduced to a children’s party entertainment piece.
Spent Saturday night investigating (or as it’s known in more serious circles, e-vestigating) a former Victorian workhouse. Signs of the everafter were a bit scant TBH. Other than a male voice in my ear saying “Hello” just as we arrived (& no, nobody was behind me). Not much else of a paranormal nature occurred other than a few lights getting brighter (battery glitch?)
I think we are becoming rather immune to these things now. I used to watch ghosthunting shows and think, “as if you’d go in there alone in the dark?” yet on Saturday there I was, in the attic area of a former Victorian Workhouse. On my own. With a tiny pocket torch. In the pitch dark. Like Aaron Goodwin of Ghost Adventures. “Duuuuuude!” And I wasn’t in the least bit perturbed.
I thought at one point that there was a response when I called out, but I soon debunked the odd noises I kept hearing as some kind of insect somewhere near the windowsill. I went to rescue my friend who was trapped in a human pendulum downstairs, pretending to be Sam Weet from Ghost. I told her there was a Brundlefly trapped upstairs somewhere and she had to come and listen.
There was a miniature model of the Cutty Sark on the windowsill. I had images of a tiny princess trapped within, like on Sinbad. We couldn’t work out where this odd sound was coming from. It was like Charlie Brown’s teacher going “wah wah wah”” only very quietly and very far away.
After further calling out and chuckling away at the odd response we were getting – and it did only happen when we called out – we decided it was definitely some kind of bug stuck somewhere which needed releasing. We opened the window and leaned out. There we discovered a wasp stuck in a hole in the wall. My friend managed to release it by poking at it with a cd cover she found. Then whisper-shouted “He’s not alone in there is he?” as I cried out, “WASPS NEST! SHUT THE FUCKING WINDOW!” I envisaged us running away from a swarm of angry bees like Ray Peterson and Art Weingartner in The Burbs.
I am also fairly sure that we may be banned from further events run by this particular company after they listen back to their EVP device recordings and will, in all likelihood, hear us discussing whether or not my friend is a sexual predator then sniggering away like Mutley (again). Then quoting random bits of ‘Silence of the Lambs’. To put some context on that – we had spotted a folding trolley against the wall and both had the same idea of each pretending to be Hannibal Lecter.
Not sure that whoever plays back the EVP device will appreciate hearing us doing our best Anthony Hopkins and saying things like, “Migs says he can smell your cunt. I myself, cannot”.
We may not have found evidence of the afterlife, but we did find masks and sailor hats and won a box of Roses in the raffle, which we stuffed ourselves with during in the break. There was a Kinect camera to faff about with, white noise to rave along to and Nik Naks to rearrange to see if the spirit of someone like Annie Wilkes came and tried to hobble us…. So in my book that makes for a winning evening all round.