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They’re behind you!

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Another weekend. Another night spent pratting about in the dark with my pal. 

 

On the way to our latest venue last night, we called for petrol and saw a colleague from work & his mate.  They were on their way to an evening of Dungeons & Dragons. Am pretty sure that this wins in a hand of Twat Top Trumps and our Garage Forecourt Geek-Off (but it’s a close call, as at least their evening was free!)

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Armley Mills after dark.  It could only have been improved if there had been less people there, or even better – just Scoob and I left to our own devices.
There were 10 noobs there and 17 experienced twats idiots loons paranormal investigators of varying degrees of hopeful skepticism and belief.

During the introduction and health & safety talk in the brightly lit meeting/cafeteria area, I was tugged on the hood (not a sexual euphemism) although nobody was anywhere near me. So that was a good start.

🙂

When the over-long intro part was finally done, we all followed Pammie PamPam ‘please call me Pamela not Pam’ on a tour of the museum.  I’ve been a few times and it did feel strange to be there in civilian garb.  Usually when I’ve been, it’s for a school trip about Victorians and we’ve all been dressed up like this:-

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Assume the position for your caning

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Last time I was there, a couple of years ago, I was poked in the back of the leg when all my young charges were accounted for.  The time before that, my work mate thought I was stood behind her in the school room until she realized I was across the other side of the room. Again, all the children and other staff were accounted for.

Weird!

First we entered the carding room area, with the huge carding machine and the old looms.  This room is alive (or should that be dead) with residual energy and is where I was prodded last time.  A very definite “They’re heeeere!” moment in this area.

Poltergeist


I often get a whoosh of something or other next to the carding machine.  Possibly just thinking about how many severed extremities are probably still within its spikey workings.  In fact one of the other people there said his grandfather had met his end whilst cleaning such a machine at a different mill, when someone switched the machine back on and he was dragged into the mechanism!

Messy!

I was keen next to go in the cinema area – not an original feature of the mill of course. It was the old Armley cinema. Fixtures and fittings moved and reassembled exactly the same.  One of my friends refuses to go in there at all on school trips. She doesn’t like the vibe at all.
I had no fear of it, although we did feel that there was a man watching us, somewhat amused. Probably thinking,
“WTF are these dumbarses doing buggering about in the dark?”  Whoever he was, the sod touched me on the shoulder. And I mean a hand on the shoulder touch, not like there was a moth on me or anything.  I felt it and I jumped.  And there was nobody else there.

Admittedly I did not jump as high as when I turned and was face to face with my pal in the dark, who I thought had walked off.  I properly babbed myself then! LOL.

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Fooks Saaaake Scoob!


When on our own in the sewing machine room, someone walked between the two of us. A very definite rush of cold air, with no open windows or doors and we both felt it at the same time.

The sewing machine room

Usual meaningless bollocks on the ouija boards – I don’t trust them, or rather I don’t trust the people around the board. Fascinating though it may be from a scientific and psychological study point of view.  I  was getting distracted by some quality parabolia on this heater – a relation of Wilson the ball maybe?

I had a clamber about taking pics underneath the machinery.  I figured if I was a dead child still lingering about, I’d be hiding underneath or behind some shit, giggling and getting ready to prod the unsuspecting living for a laugh. What with lurking about for years in the nether, possibly being a bit dull.

Don’t let the brightness of these photos fool you.  The flash on my camera is super bright.  It was black as pitch in there.

Nice light anomaly on here (prob just torch flare)

Very entertaining evening. I only wish we’d had more time to explore on our own without 25 other people making a load of racket.

Next time – Nottingham Galleries of Justice in November.

Ciao for now MoFos. xX

 

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A night at the institute

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At the start of the year my friend and I embarked on our first ‘ghost hunt’ together and now we’ve been on about 6 and are no more informed than when we started.
I do get asked why we bother, but to be honest, they can be huge fun, as long as you don’t mind the dark and occasionally mixing with people who believe every last belly gurgle or door creak is
proof of life after death.

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I’m not scratching my arse with my torch – honest

Friday night we went on another one, this time at an old building near Keighley.  We arrived an hour late by mistake and they weren’t expecting two women – the only missing name on their list was a Dave Subborn.  Feck knows who he is or why his name was associated with my email booking and my deposit.  Must be paranormal!

🙂

 

We were snuck upstairs by some of the staff to the chapel area where the 26 strong group had already started (including a 10 strong hen party with sashes and veil!)  They were all holding hands in a circle and attempting a ‘human pendulum’.  For the uninitiated, this is essentially someone standing up inbeweteen 2 other people and the spirits are then asked to push the person in the middle either forward for Yes or backward for No. (#notconvincedbyalongstretch)

The man doing all the calling out seemed to have a military background, possibly in the inquisitorial squad at Guantanamo Bay.  “Are you a male? Yes or No”, “Are you from this building? Yes or No” – as he marched around the circle barking his questions. “Do you mean us harm? Yes or No”, “Do you know you’re dead? Yes or No”.  He continued marching around the circle, occasionally tapping someone else on the shoulder to have a go at being the human pendulum.  At this point my friend whispered that it was like a really slow version of Duck Duck Goose and that it was also a bit like he was playing Guess Who, as she whispered “Are you wearing a hat? Yes or No” and then dissolved into barely suppressed giggles which then set me off.  Both of us sniggering away in the dark, trying to pretend we just had a cough.

After a bit more of an explore, it was break time. Like being at a very strange wedding reception, with a running buffet of various sandwiches, crisps and cake, some of which ended up a bit soggy after my pal spilled her coffee over it when I made her laugh

We checked out various areas of the building.  A small theatre, a swimming pool (now boarded over).  We did ouija boards, where strangely a Dutch woman came through and as if by magic, one of the staff members, spoke Dutch.  Everybody felt freezing but the room temperature was steady.One lady left the room because she felt sick and I almost fell asleep (nothing new there).  

Time for another tea break, where for reasons I forget now, we ended up laughing hysterically about whether anyone had ever investigated Martin Bashir as a serial killer – the Harold Shipman of the showbiz world.  This led onto reading online about a conspiracy theory that Oprah Winfrey or Jeffrey Daniels of Shalamar may have had Michael Jackson killed.  One to further their status in the Illuminati, the other as vengance for stealing their dance moves.  I’ll leave it up to you to work out which.

FFS!

After a bit more investigating.  Another fruitless ouija session and then an equally pointless game of boggle with the spirits where we had to make up our own answers the questions asked – Countdown style.  This was clearly open to abuse.

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What did you die of?…..

 

By this time, I’d pretty much had enough and it was 3am.  Time to set up camp – yes, this time it was a full sleepover.  Just time before bed to recreate the famous death scene shots of the Heaven’s Gate Suicide Cult evidence photosLike you do…

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I think we need to grow up and stop arsing about

I got about 2 hours sleep before we got turfed out and then spent the rest of Saturday feeling almost jetlagged. 

All in all I think the most entertaining things of the entire evening were us two. The rest of the group were nice and all but the spirits were nowhere to be seen or heard – I didn’t even get so much as a tingle of the old spider senses really and when I tingle, you know shit’s about to go down.

Doing it all again next Saturday at Armley Mills, where I’ve seen and heard strange shit in the daytime, so lights off should be a right scream.

Adios todas Xx

 

 

Let’s go round again…

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Well it’s almost time to begin a new academic year.

It doesn’t seem that long since last September and the last academic year. But what a year it’s been.  Going in all cylinders blazing last September, ready to take on the system. Lead my new, (albeit smaller) but fabulous little team.  Ready to jump in at a moments notice to impart knowledge and wisdom with a smile and pocket full of amazing lesson plans.

Yeah. That lasted til Spring and then it all went west side.

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Patrick

Me, from March to June in my kitchen

 

Until recently when I no longer felt like that, I hadn’t really realised how low and off-kilter I actually felt.  Let’s not go there again if we can possibly help it.

My philosophy at this juncture can probably best be summed up by this meme:-

1g1u4s

Am I right?

🙂

There will always be plenty of people having a shittier day than you, which is crap (for them) but a silver lining on your own grey cloud. That’s as good as it’s probably going to get for most of us – and that’s okay.

So before I return to the coal face and my optimism and enthusiasm die a fiery death wane within weeks, I’d like to celebrate the great things that happened this year and the people who stopped me from totally losing my mind. The ones who sent me notes, hunted for spooks with me for fun; sent me memes, love tokens; not always helpful but somehow amusing texts; sent me jigsaws in the post. And thanks to my husband who, despite his usually unsympathetic nature and poor inference skills, managed to be kind, thoughtful and not get annoyed when I didn’t appear to have moved for hours.  Also my Childerbeast for not freaking out at their mother freaking out.

Naturally I have to summarise in pictorial form because , as my childerbeast told me recently, “Mum, you photograph everything”  Good job really. Then I can look back at images like these, on the days when everything seems pointless, and I’ll remember that it’s not.

In the words of my childerbeast…. “Blessed”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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So back to school tomorrow.  I am going in this year with no expectations. That way I can’t be disappointed or annoyed. I’ll go in. Do my thing. Hope for the best and then come home, sleep, then go back the next day and try again.

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Bring it on Booms!  We can do this.

 

And to end a perfect summer holiday of sun, treating myself to a new vacuum cleaner (small pleasures) visits with friends, festivalling, glitter and music – my parents dropped by today for an impromptu visit.

Good times.

😀

Life (today anyway) is good.  Not always. Not for everyone. But today, it’s alright for me & mine, & that’ll do.

Ciao MoFos

Xxxx

 

Who ya gonna call? (prob not these two)

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On Friday night, my friend and I went to Abbey House Museum in Leeds on a Most Haunted Experience. We booked it months ago on the promise of being able to rake around in the dark listening for taps and knocks alongside Karl Beatty and Yvette Fielding.  We found out not long ago though (after we had paid in full of course) that Yvette would be replaced by Stuart Torvell.  Not quite the same, a lot less hair for a start, but there you go.

We knew it would be amusing and entertaining. Perhaps not as much as 30 East Drive because we wouldn’t have the pre-show laughs of The Chequerfields pub and its patrons with their stories. It couldn’t be anything but funny with us two TBH, making our own amusement as usual.

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Look. It’s all over Twitter how funny we are.

It started before so much as light even went out, when the crew came outside where we were having a pre-ghost hunt snack. They were shouting out names to check everyone off on their list.  We joined in, asking for I.P freely, Amanda Huggenkiss, Seymore Butts etc and finding ourselves hilarious.

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Pretty sure other Team 1s were trading their lanyards for Team 2 to avoid being with us

One of the crew said something about a back passage as we were taking a picture of this sign on the door and thus the puerile level of immaturity was set for the evening.

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After bemoaning the decline of the use of the word knob in English signage – one doesn’t see it written down often enough – it was finally time to make a start.  Or so we thought.    Already 45 minutes in and we’d done nothing but eat club biscuits, the crew finally showed us an overly dramatic Health & Safety video with creepy girl from ‘The Ring’ style graphics & scary music. Then they brought out Karl & Stuart (Karl taller in real life than you’d think and also swearier).  It was then time….for more snacks and tea. While the superfans monopolised the ‘Pros’.

Eventually, we all trooped downstairs to the Victorian Street area where we were shown all the tech we could use.  We were shown where the locked-off cameras were and which ones would be live streaming on FB and YouTube. Then the lights went out and off we went in our groups.  Our group went into the pub area (sadly no longer working) and fired up one of the many ouija boards. 

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Do you have a message from the afterlife?

Now I am what could best be described as a hopeful believer. I don’t see any reason why there can’t be such a thing as ghosts, but I need to ensure all scientific possibilities have been exhausted as a reason for anything unexplained. I have experienced things that cannot be explained by science or common sense in the past but I am going to need more proof.

What I don’t want is to spend half an hour of my life I’m never getting back, as part of a farcical display of fraudulence from a lady who was clearly in full charge of the planchette and claiming that she was in communication with her partner’s dead dog.

A dog?

Because apparently in the afterlife, animals know how to read and spell.

FFS!

We abandoned our group fairly sharply after this and tagged on the end of another, but not before a comedy scare moment when my friend shone her torch into one of the shop areas and cacked herself when she saw a man!  Once we had finished pissing ourselves with the giggles, having realised it was just the other group – we went to join them.  This could be much more interesting as this group was led by Stuart from Most Haunted.  It wasn’t!
In his own words, he said a whole lot of what they do is, “standing about in the dark waiting for Fuck All”.

He’s not wrong.  So, you need to amuse yourself.

Namely by texting your mates a heads up to get online and going to find the livestream cameras.

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Can you see me Mum? I’m on telly!

I’m not sure Stuart and Karl and the other crew members knew what to make of us two.  In fact I am pretty sure they were hiding from us. While others were jumping at every moth, tap, stomach gurgle and phantom dead dog, we were wandering off alone and laughing about whether or not the CCTV in the gift shop would still be on.  Thought it best not to test it out.  Nobody wants a disciplinary at work for being seen livestreamed on FB pocketing souvenir pencils and rubbers from the gift shop*.
On one of our reccies we discovered some unattended giant character heads.  I’m only sorry I couldn’t see where I was going or we could have done a little dance in front of the livestream cameras.

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I think he can hear you Ray

You don’t see Zak Bagans and Aaron Goodwin doing this shit!

After a few hours uneventful wanderings and sitting about in the dark watching bits of tech occasionally light up. We did another ouija session in an upstairs room where there was no communication whatsoever until our friend from earlier joined in and lo and behold, the fucking dog came back through from the other side.

Fuck off you charlatan before I stick that planchette up your arse!

We once again opted to bomb this group off and went downstairs alone to the allegedly haunted giant shoe (don’t ask). Not a dicky bird in there. The only thing unusual was my sudden inability to whistle when calling out to ask any ghosties to copy me.  I suddenly turned into King Julian from Madagascar. “Phhfffffffftttttttttt”.  Probably deformation of the palate from eating too many club biscuits while we waited for this shizzle to start!

Had another wander off on our own into the one room my friend said she didn’t get a good feeling in.  We had hoped for the level of poltergeist activity that the actual Most Haunted Team witnessed whilst filimg for the TV show.

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Happy Land people – not scary in any way whatsoever

 

Funnily enough, the little people that had seemingly sailed through the air with gay abandon in the company of Karl and Co, were uncharacteristically still and silent.

Make of that what you will.

Our time was almost over but not before we had a chance to cross over the road to Kirkstall Abbey. A fabulous monastic ruin and even more impressive at night time.

Dare you get inside one of the stone coffins they said?

Sure? Why not. But I’ll check it for fox piss before I lay down.

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In retrospect, I should have put my torch elsewhere

 

We listened to some owls calling to one another for a while and then went back over the road.  A mini photo op with the ‘Pro’s after a ‘casting couch’ joke from Karl and what is clearly a cheeky feel up from Stuart (now we know why he left Yvette behind).  Then it was time to go.

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He is clearly trying to cop a feel – and why not?

 

Stuart seems less affectionate in the official photo

I have had scarier shits than this ghost hunting night if I’m honest. But I did have a right laugh with my best ghost busting buddy.  Our warped sense of humour and fun is perfectly suited to stumbling about in the dark taking the piss in the hope that one day (night) we will actually find some proof of existence after death.

Bolling Hall at the end of the month and Armley Mills in October – both venues pretty creepy in the day time to be fair so I’m sure there will be laughs aplenty there (though probably no more giant heads).

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Lidl’s new range of blow up sex dolls were not a big seller

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*Obvs we wouldn’t dream of such a thing, we were merely saying it was very trusting of the museum to let a bunch of whackjobs wander about unsupervised after hours.