I didn’t become a Christian until I was 33 in 1997. My childhood was idyllic. I grew up in the 1960s and 1970s, an era filled with sweet memories I shall treasure forever. My sister became a Christian in her middle to late teens – probably around 1970. Not until the late 1980s did other members of my family follow suit. My brothers and my Mum all came to know God – it was just my dear old Dad who struggled with it all and never actually committed to Christianity.
In the 1970s my Mum went to regular spiritualist meetings locally with her father Joe (my grandfather who I affectionately called Poppa) and together they would participate in seances. I recall hearing about an artist (who also happened to be a medium) attending one meeting and sending Poppa home with a pencil drawing of his spirit guide, a red Indian of all things! He kept that picture on his lounge wall until the day he died (on my birthday in 1993). My mother had long since renounced her involvement in these meetings when she became a Christian and I am sure she confessed to God and asked for His forgiveness. Her conscience now clear and feeling cleansed she could proceed on her Christian path. Had she brought home with her though a ghostly ‘friend’ from a spiritualist meeting many years earlier? I ask this for one reason – I came face to face with him in 1976 when I was twelve years old.
Now, firstly I must apologise for my appalling artwork, however I did want to give you a good idea of what I was faced with, and illustrations can be helpful (and might even be amusing in this case!).
I lived at 251 Ashingdon Road, Rochford, Essex, from birth until 1978. During that time, 251 was a chalet design – it has since been extended upwards and outwards and is unrecognisable these days. Take a look at the floor plan. You’ll see that the kitchen was at the back of the house and the lounge at the front. In the lounge stood my Dad’s favourite ‘toy’ at the time, an electric organ, against the wall on the left hand side. In front of that was the organ stool. In the kitchen, the sink was against the back wall overlooking the garden.
On this poignant day in 1976, one which I will remember vividly for the rest of my life, it was mid-afternoon and just my Mum and I were at home. I’d been in my bedroom, was feeling thirsty and came downstairs to the kitchen for a mug of water.
The mug I selected has relevance to the story. I recall it very specifically and would not have wanted it to come to the slightest bit of harm. I was a mahooooooooosive fan of teen idol David Cassidy and cherished anything bearing his image. My David Cassidy mug was always my first choice to drink from! I place 100% blame on Mr Ghostie for the parting of our ways this day!
I was stood at the kitchen sink with my back to the lounge pouring water in to my mug from the tap. As I turned to face the lounge with the mug held to my lips, there sitting bolt upright on the stool, sideways to me with his back to the electric organ, was a man dressed in a black top hat and tails, black shoes, and dark grey/charcoal trousers. His hair had a fringe, was very dark, loose and wavy. I’d say he was in his late twenties or early thirties.
People who talk of ghosts often refer to them as being in mist form or translucent. Not my Mr Ghostie! He was as solid looking as you or I. Instinctively though, I knew he was not in his correct era. Also, the fact that his black lace up shoes were gleaming, almost to the point of basking in a calming glow, was a give away that he was not an intruder with intention to cause me harm. Nevertheless, the sight of him froze me to the spot.
The most spooky thing of all was, as I watched him sitting in silence and very still, his head moved 90 degrees to look at me. His body remained perfectly still. Try replicating this if you will? Sit upright with your hands in your lap looking straight ahead of you, then count five seconds whilst you turn your head (not your body) 90 degrees to your right. That five seconds seems a long time and your head turns very slowly. I am guessing it was five seconds, of course – I didn’t stand there with a stop watch! It was spine chilling. At the very moment his eyes locked with mine, IT happened… in total fright I dropped my… DAVID CASSIDY MUG!!!! Aaarghhhh! As it hit the floor, smashed, and water splashed up my legs, I momentarily shifted my eyes from Mr Ghostie and when I glanced back, he was gone.
Hearing my kitchen accident my Mum came rushing to see what I’d broken. I’m sure she was relieved to see it was only my David Cassidy mug and not one of her favourite pieces of crockery! ONLY my David Cassidy mug? Hmmpppff!
A DC mug from the same era (thanks to Wendy Wright for this picture)
I explained to my Mum what had happened and she was especially interested in the fact that Mr Ghostie’s shoes were shiny and glowing. When I asked who he could be she said he was very possibly my grandfather Harry because apparently he was forever polishing his army boots. Harry had died in the 1950s long before I made an appearance. I accepted the explanation at the time but having since seen photos of him there was definitely no resemblance whatsoever to Mr Ghostie.
The whole experience made quite an impression on me which has lasted until this day. It raised many questions and left me with a lifelong fascination of the paranormal. People scoff and laugh at ghost stories and ‘poo-poo’ the existence of ghosts, and maybe I would too if I’d not seen one with my very own eyes. I know I did nothing whatsoever to encourage this sighting at such a young and innocent age. It most certainly was NOT my imagination and there was no way on earth that I would have smashed my David Cassidy mug in an effort to have anyone believe my story! That thing was sacred to me at the time! Therefore I know what I saw and I’ll never let anyone try to convince me otherwise.
Before I was a Christian I visited a clairvoyant twice but since my baptism I have not dabbled in that area and would never do so again. I did watch Most Haunted with great intrigue and fascination for years and felt safe on the other side of the TV screen. However, for a period of about six years following my Mum’s death in 1999 I had several paranormal experiences. Some were pleasant but a couple were positively evil and frightening. I will share all of these with you in my next blog post.
Until then, I would absolutely love you to leave comments below. Also, I invite you to share any paranormal experiences of your own.