So I’m still here and not afraid of water or started foaming at the mouth or anything, despite sporting a very distinct bite mark to the elbow.
To celebrate living to fight another day, I went to a Bradford Literature Festival thing at Bolling Hall on Friday evening with my friend.
There were some ghost stories from a lady from York and a weird job interview type question and answer session between two authors and the Head of literature at Bradford University. We’re still not sure who got the job or what the role entailed…
Afterwards there was a walk around the hall with the museum curator and about 30-odd other people, in the dark. Luckily I had my UV torch so didn’t knock anything over like when I did an overnight ghost hunt thing there some years ago.
It wasn’t until after the event though that the giddiness began. We spotted a searchlight in the sky and decided on a whim, at 1am, to go on a mission round the back streets of Bradford to find the source. I hasten to add that we were in the car, windows up, locks on – because we might be a bit bonkers, but not yet completely certifiable!
Initial speculation that it was coming from the local gypsy camp (jesus tracker?) was soon dispelled and before long we ended up down the arse-end of Leeds Road outside an ice cream parlour. And there was our searchlight, in the middle of the pavement, bearing a sign saying HIRE ME, as it twirled around, shining it’s bat signal into the night sky. Parked close by was a van with some men sat inside.
I took this picture, and as I was reviewing it for quality, my friend went all shrill and began winding up the windows and checking the door locks again and yelling that there was a man coming up to the car.
I was still oblivious (as per) and thought she was joking until bugger me, there was an Asian Adrian Mole lookalike, sidling toward the car, looking as if he was about to sell us some shisha or claim us as his brides.
“It worked boys. we’ve got two. Get the net and the chloroform”
“Send the boy, it’s his first hunt!”
My friend screeched off in the car, leaving ‘Adrian’ in a cloud of dust and bereft of wives. We spent the rest of the journey home giggling like loons and speculating wildly, and without foundation, that young ‘Adrian’ would be getting a clip round the ear when he got back in the van. Interestingly, the light ceased after this. Possibly because it had been bundled into the back of the van and the traffickers, driven away in haste – their location compromised – to set up a new trap elsewhere.
We are investigating a fort in Hull in a couple of weeks with my old mucka Gene Genie along for the ride. What could go wrong?
Ciao Tutti Xx