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Knock once for Yes & Twice for No

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The past two weekends I’ve been raking about in the dark til silly o’clock in the morning. Armed to the teeth with gadgets, in an attempt to converse with the dead. When I say ‘converse with the dead’, I mean, pratting about with my mate, sniggering like Beavis & Butthead & tutting at fakery & those more gullible than ourselves. Not that I am a non believer. More of a hopeful skeptic who needs to test all scientific reasoning first.

Our first adventure was at Fort Paull with Glen, the resident skeptic, from the ‘Most Haunted’ team.

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I am in there somewhere – in a yellow coat

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We liked Glen


In the supposedly haunted train carriage (which nobody seemed to know the history of) we almost had a stand up row with a lady who was determined to kill a moth.  “It deserves to die!” she screeched whilst removing her walking boot to try and squish it against the window.  “They’re not like butterflies inside you know” said her mate.  “A butterfly has innards and stuff when you squash one – but a moth is just dust. They’re just made of dust”.

Who the hell squashes a butterfly?

Who does that?

We managed to persuade her to leave the moth alone by employing stern teacher voices.

The venue was very interesting.  Comprising underground tunnels, a Beverley Bomber and various artillery gun thingumies  – and a shitload of moths, just for our lepidopterophobic friend.  An entertaining session on a ouija board ensued where I was seemingly contacted by someone called ‘Ash’. I denied any knowledge of knowing anyone of this name until Linda could tell by the look in my eye that I did.  Through stifled laughter I explained that the only Ash I knew was my eldest childerbeast’s dead dwarf hamster!  And that I doubted very much that he had gained the ability to spell in the afterlife, particularly as he only had one eye when he was alive!  One of the ladies around the board then suggested that perhaps the deceased had been cremated and this is why they were spelling out ‘Ash’ when asked their name.

FFS!

Time for a wander and an explore.

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Anybody there. Where? There on the stair

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Creepy Wheelchair in the Victorian Hospital area

We did have a moment like that film “Left Behind” when the Rapture comes and claims the pious.  We got split up from our group in one of the tunnels and realised we were wandering about a deserted garrison on our own, calling out to the living this time rather than the dead.  “Hallooo is there anybody there?”  We were half expecting to find piles of clothes on the ground.
We were finally put out of our misery by the lovely Glen who appeared behind a laser-grid pen from inside the Beverley Bomber.

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There’s those Lidl blow-up dolls again

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Come aboard the lurve train

 

Note to self:  if you want to keep things on a serious note, it’s probably best not to say things like “Have we got any seamen with us?” and not expect at least a bit of an immature titter in the dark.

Making the most of our visit to Hull, we decided in the morning to visit the supposed haunted hostel in DeGrey Street, Hull where Bman used to live.  He didn’t live at the haunted property (although he says he wouldn’t go in the attic room out of fear). He lived 3 doors up.  I say lived.  I mean squatted.  ūüôā

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Money for old rope anyone?

Am not convinced by the authenticity of this alleged haunted property.  It smacks to me of a decrepit old house someone can’t be arsed to renovate to a livable standard so a spooky back story has been invented.  I’ve told Bman we need to do this ourselves.  Bid on some old battered fixer-upper at auction and float some ideas out on the internet about spectral goings-on and then charge ghosthunters ¬£40 a head to wander around it in the dark with torches on a weekend.

Kerchiing!

Last Friday we opted out of the (not quite yet) end of term drunken teachers shenanigans in Leeds and went instead to Bradford City Hall.  A beautiful building in the middle of a big shithole.  

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They don’t build them like they used to 

 

 

 

Raking about again in the dark. debunking charlatans and trying not to actually laugh out loud at Stuart the Medium as he rather camply said; “Ooh hello Colin. I’ve got a gentleman called Colin here” and “Push the table harder for the ladies Colin, they like it harder. get it up on two legs for them Colin rather than 4”. as well as, “Let’s have a bit of vibration Gerry (it had changed from Colin to Gerry by this time) the ladies like things that vibrate.”

Alright Stuart – that’s enough now!

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Steve Irwin was here before the stingray got him

Not sure that Stuart liked it when we went rogue and wandered off around the old police cells by ourselves.  Not sure he could cope with us being seemingly unperturbed by the dark and the unknown, or the fact that we had our own tech.  Admittedly his tech was way funner (it’s a word) than ours:-  Sound amplifying headphones, weird rag dolls with light up eyes, interactive bears and night vision goggles.  We found ourselves especially hilarious at 1:45am when using an Ovulus speaking device and decided we must surely have contacted the spirit of Norman Collier.

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Why hello there Norman

Am pretty sure Stuart was glad to be rid of us at 2am.  No comedy wanderings through the streets of Bradford, chasing lights this time – just straight home.

Until next time, at Armley Mills in October, where I may not be so blase about it because that place is creepy in the bloody day time, as I think I have said before.

Ciao MoFos (alive or dead)

Xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Busy Busy doing nish (& a little bit of politics)

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Good news! The heating’s kicked in so I can come out from beneath the kids’ blankets that I’ve been huddled under on the couch.
    Sure I COULD have kept warm by doing what I had every intention of doing today when I got up, which was cracking on with creating the latest new Wake & Shake routine for next term.
However… I was sidetracked by the¬†the fact that ‘All New Ghost Adventures’¬†was on ALL day on the Really Channel.¬† I’ve only moved away from the TV because I needed a wee and then got distracted again by realising that there were no children hogging the PC (surely some kind of¬†paranormal¬†anomaly¬†worthy of a visit from Derek Acorah¬†himself). So I hopped on before the spectres of the office chair returned and I had to wait another 4 hours to use my own computer!

So basically I’ve been sat on fat arse all day watching and doing shit all!

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I guess I could have thrown myself into some topical Maggie-bashing and arranged some kind of flashmob rave to drink myself silly celebrating her death.

But (without wanting to sound like a Conservative lover because I’m not, I assure you.) ¬†I just feel that this behaviour¬†is¬†rather disrespectful.¬† Frankly I’m rather embarrassed by these people who are rejoicing the woman’s passing in a manner akin to celebrating the death of someone like¬† Saddam Hussein or Bin Laden.
I only hope that when Brown, Major, Blair and Cameron all pop off, that they are also afforded¬†the same courtesy because they’ve done such a better job of running the country of course.

I particularly liked this, which I’ve nicked from a friend’s wall on FB.

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Some people need to grow up.  Yeah Maggie will always be associated with the miners strike but people seem to forget that every fucker was on strike before 1979.  No bin men, no firemen, TV stations; the electric going off for hours at a time (still is in Boro by all accounts today!)  People seem to forget that she was the only politician who has actually done what she said she was going to do if she got into power (and she cooked her hubby his breakie everyday).

Right that’s enough politics.¬† I’m bored now.¬† It’s time for¬† another brew and another episode of Ghost Adventures while I search ebay¬†for EVP equipment.

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& then I thought there was a goblin under my bed

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Watched ‘Kick Ass’ last night with the Bman who has never seen it before.¬† I think he agrees with me and my friend, the Gene Genie, that our youngest daughter should never be allowed to accidentally see this movie or even hear of its existence.

She thought she was Kung Fu Panda for 6 months after first seeing that.¬† She used to try and ‘Matilda’ her form teacher in Reception class when things didn’t go her way!¬†¬† She still sometimes acts like King Julian from ‘Madagascar’ and Lord knows, when she was (inappropriately) allowed to watch ‘Sucker Punch’¬† a couple of years ago, she thought she was Baby Doll for a fortnight.

The carnage, my friends, would be something to behold once that purple wig & eyemask were on!

 

She'd kick my ass for sure!

She’d kick my ass for sure!

Anyone who knows my kid well enough to know that this is true say, “Hell Yeah! Keep her away from that movie!”

I love her. She’s awesome (but also slightly terrifying). ¬†I don’t know where she gets it from.

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Anyway, rather¬†than go to sleep then like the Bman, what I¬†did was stay awake watching ‘Ghost Adventures’ – which is like ‘Most Haunted’¬†but in the big old U. S of A¬† Man!¬†¬† Where they’re like so much more gung-ho than Derek Acorah¬†and Yvette and they have better equipment.¬† Scarier equipment, like that EVP¬†shit that plays back gobbledygook white noise that they then tell you says stuff like;¬†¬†“Satan is good, Satan is our pal. Kill everyone, Especially YOU!”¬† It doesn’t say any such thing. But now you¬†think that it does and they keep replaying it over and over just to really mess with your overtired mind.

So even though I watched a bit of a stand up comedy gig afterwards I still had a fitful nights sleep suffering from a chronic attack of overactive imagination.

I could hear a tiny breath echoing the massive man-breathing of the Bman.  I knew it was the damn cat asleep in the corner. 

Or was it? 

Could it have been a tiny gremlin dude like that one in Stephen King’s ‘Cat’s Eye’who was going to steal my soul through my mouth as I slept and then the cat would save me by fighting the little man to the death, only to then climb up on my chest and suck out my soul and last living breath like it did to a young Drew Barrymore in the movie.

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Don’t mind me. Just stealing your soul

(It wouldn’t be the first time the cats had tried to kill me.)

 

I even had to cuddle up to the Bman for comfort.

Crumbs!

No more late night cheese platters for you lady !

 

So to end on a less frightening note for you all than killer cats and wives being forced to cooch¬†up to their snoring hubbies for protection from non-existent soul stealing bedroom goblins…. I entered the 21st century today and bought a DAB radio for my kitchen.

Get me!

I’ll be getting myself one of those new fangled Spinning Jennys next!

New wireless & ting

New wireless & ting