Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Wednesday, 3 August 2016
Filth, sedition and hauntings
Filth to the left, seditious literature to the right. She looks as if butter wouldn't melt anywhere, eh?
Well I was not going to do anymore of the 'guess what' photos, but the last one produced such a pleasing reaction from the geographically isolated couple, that I fully intend to, just not this morning.
Back when those photos of Guildford were taken, the house where the last of the sit-in students went to live after vacating the building had a declaration on the wall which you signed upon entrance, stating that you were carrying no 'seditious literature'. I wouldn't have known what it was at the time in any case, but I still signed it. In fact, I still don't know what it is and I cannot be bothered to look it up.
Somehow, this group of hardened politicos had persuaded an elderly lady on the outskirts of the town to share her house with about fifteen stroppy youths plus dozens of other people going in and out at all hours of the day and night. The group also shared with the fifteen or so cats which the lady had allowed to breed unchecked. The place reeked of cat's piss, but somehow everyone got used to it. I never once saw the old woman, so she must have barricaded herself in a room somewhere to plot her escape. Either that or they ate her. Food was in short supply.
This was the only place where I have witnessed a full-blown poltergeist at work at first hand.
I was sitting in a bay window in front of about ten other people, and I was talking about something and wondering why they were all looking over my left shoulder. I looked behind me, but I could see nothing. I stopped talking and watched as the rest looked at each other in amazement, waiting for them to explain.
Eventually, they said that my voice was drowned out by a flock of chirruping birds, as if in a large and echoing aviary. I heard nothing.
The next things to happen were the nightly occurrance of the sound of someone running down the landing, breaking through the bannisters and falling to the hall below. Every time the students ran from their rooms to investigate, nothing seemed to have happened.
This went on for so long that someone called the local priest, and he said that he had excorcised the house about 30 years previously, after someone had indeed killed themself by breaking through the bannisters and falling to their death.
He then pointed to a rather quiet and disturbed young woman in the group and said that the latest events were being caused by her, and she should leave to keep the peace.