Hi,
Setting off from home the whole family had turned out to see me off, although I think the older one had got a bit bored and headed off down the street, probably to take a shit in one of the neighbour's front gardens. Cuddles with my Frankenstein only made me remember the moments we had shared over the weekend as we had taken our first puppy swim class together and he had done so well. Kissing and hugging Mr. Warehouse I was sad he was not coming as well but would love the moment I came home to him and the puppies. Heading down back home I popped by my Scottish grandmother to say hello, as I did with my Auntie and Uncle. I finished off by settling into Nanny Pumpkins, roast lamb dinner and a period drama I was tired and knowing the early start I was ready to bed down.
Falling asleep quickly on her Sofa I remembered the last time I was on there and it was not a favourable circumstance. I must say it was not the best night's sleep and I was absolutely nackard when I was awoken at 4.30am to my dearest Nanna asking if I was going to stay there all day or if I wanted to go on holiday. Make-up done and hair in a Halloween scrunchie, I was ready and so was the taxi! The airport was pretty clear, as I would normally expect, so arriving nearly three-hours before our flight seemed futile, but nevertheless, it allowed us time for some overpriced breakfast and coffee and a nice chat. The flight was easy enough and as normal, despite the time, I treated myself to some champagne and nibbles. The flight itself I expected would have been busy but in actual fact was so empty most of the wing seats had only one person in them, something I know as a fact Mr. Warehouse would have appreciated and been the first to jump into given half the chance.
Arriving and getting through the airport and city to our hotel was a breeze as Nanna had opted for a private transfer, something which was deemed a luxury for Mr. Warehouse and me when we are travelling. The hotel is lovely and is situated in a historical building, in the heart of Kraków’s Kazimierz - the former Jewish district. Within walking distance of the Old Town and the historical Wawel Castle the heated and air-conditioned rooms at Hotel Kazimierz are well-appointed including a private bathroom with a shower and a toilet, as well as satellite TV and free Internet access. We have yet to spend our first night hear obviously and have yet to sample the breakfast buffet which is available every morning, however, I am sure to enjoy a morning coffee, and maybe a cheeky cigarette on our balcony overlooking the back streets of Kazimierz. With the hotel's jazzy wallpaper and random decor choices, its offering is good for any traveller, couple, single or family with a 24-hour front desk, as well as airport shuttle and free of charge luggage storage.
I get the feeling, especially so when Nanny and I went to explore the hotel and the "breakfast balcony" where the morning meal would be served. Stepping up the small flight to the balcony I looked around to see plenty of tables and chairs. However, looking over the balcony and peering down to what can only be described as more restaurant seating areas, covering what would maybe be a dance floor I felt as though the building could tell some dark tales. Staring down I had visions of the family running and hiding or trying desperately to escape as German troops and officers stormed the building, as they had done with the whole street I imagine, marching the men outside, never to be seen again and leaving the rest of them to only wonder what next. It gives me chills to think about what happened here but I feel as I did when Mr. Warehouse and I stayed in a hotel in Newquay for one of his cousin's weddings and the feels and creeps I got from that place, only to discover its tragic past of the Hotel Victoria.
I am sure I will get many more feelings like that, but for now, I am absolutely shattered and after a ravishing meal, I am sooo ready for bed. Tomorrow we visit the Jewish areas of Krakow and attend the Schindler Tour. Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. I shall look forward to the next few days as much as possible without sounding like a raving Nazi, but until then - Night, NIght!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Spooky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spooky. Show all posts
Monday, 7 October 2019
Monday, 13 May 2019
A present from Santa and delivered by Cupid!
Evening,
"I am being serious. We're leaving in five minutes and were taking one of the girls so which one do you want?" Suddenly everything seemed real and I focused my twilight mind from puppies and cute faces on a screen. Like a child to her parents, I turned to my beloved fiance and pleaded with him to let me get one. After a few pushes, he seemed to give in reluctantly knowing I would probably do whatever I would want regardless of what he had to say.
"I can't make a decision like that I am afraid, as much as I would like to," I said to my excited mother-in-law-to-be. Reluctantly I ended the call and Mr. Warehouse shook his head. We needed to talk about it and I needed to make sure it was the best decision for the family as a whole, not just me and my selfish dreams of being a dog momma to a baby puppy. Talking it over that night and the following day, we called Momma Warehouse back. After further talks, we discovered that it was a friend of a friend who used to breed toy poodles who gave it up to look after her sick husband at home who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia. Unfortunately one night back in early December the Husband had let the breeding stud in with the family pet, a Jack Russell terrier and she fell pregnant. several months later and around Valentine's day a surprise, or nine, were delivered. The lady herself knew nothing about it as she had been so busy with Christmas, New Year and looking after her husband and home she had neglected to notice her dog's belly growing.
With the unexpected litter now twelve-weeks old they were already a month passed being legally allowed to leave their mother and so she took the decision to find them homes. One of the first questions I asked my future mother-in-law was how much. Bearing in mind that the Toy Poodle / Jack Russell mix would already be a popular choice for families as they are intelligent, active little things, small enough to be around kids and hypoallergenic so great for allergy sufferers. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The reason being is that not only was it a terrible accident because her poorly husband had not known that they no longer bred dogs, but also that as a result of this expenses had already been stretched by extra food and what not. The added vaccinations, chipping, insurance and everything else that normally comes with a new puppy would have financially not been possible for the poor lady and her husband and so she wanted to give them away to families that would love and care for them as she had, making sure they were their forever homes.
Which leads us up to the moment I started with. Opening the door I stood patiently at the front door with the rest of the family, like a mother ready to accept her newborn. Ushering me over to the van I peered in and saw the sweetest little bundle of tuft. Black and tan, with a white belly I scooped him up and took him into his new home. Welcome home our little Frankenstein - An homage to my love of all things spooky, Halloween and macabre. That but also the fact he was made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
To think that this time last week as I wrote to you all and told of how upsetting and worrying it was about Pooch's aural haematoma (similar to a blood blister in humans) which has now thank goodness, cleared up to almost all gone, I had no idea of what would come.
Luckily unlike most dogs and cats that have an aural haematoma Pup has recovered well and not suffered or been left with a cauliflower ear, crumpled and disfigured from the trauma. However should this happen again, I think that surgery is going to be the only option. However, all that worry seemed to melt away as I waited patiently.
Gazing out of the window at the setting sun I had been waiting all day for this moment. Truth be told, I had been waiting for this moment for pretty much my whole life since being a toddler. Seeing the blue rickety old van pull into the street I came running down the stairs, the pit of my stomach flipping nervously as it filled with anxiety and anticipation at what was to come.
"They're here! They're here!" I squeaked excitedly at Mr. Warehouse as he too peered out the window at the arriving vehicle.
You see this all started on Tuesday evening, as Mr. Warehouse and I had prepared ourselves for bed with Pooch as we normally did, turning off the telly, closing down the lights and going into lockdown making sure all doors and windows were shut. It was about quarter to ten at night when the phone rang. I looked at Mr. Warehouse as I showed him the caller ID. It was his Mom, my future mother-in-law. Worried I answered and before she even had a chance to explain I promptly told her that this was about the time that people call in the night when someone has died.
"Do you want to see some puppies?" she said simply and calmly like some sort of child molester. I mean, of course I did. Immediately hitting redial to facetime her. No sooner had she accepted the call I saw a bundle of fluffiness. A little white girl with patches of brown and black splodging her body, another smooth black and tan puppy and a third wirey black and tan fur baby. Instantly I start freaking out.
"I thought someone had died or had an accident. I thought that you had got engaged or something. God Damn women you scared me half to death" I said. After showing Mr Warehouse and getting close-ups of all the cuteness it was time for some seriousness. Luckily unlike most dogs and cats that have an aural haematoma Pup has recovered well and not suffered or been left with a cauliflower ear, crumpled and disfigured from the trauma. However should this happen again, I think that surgery is going to be the only option. However, all that worry seemed to melt away as I waited patiently.
Gazing out of the window at the setting sun I had been waiting all day for this moment. Truth be told, I had been waiting for this moment for pretty much my whole life since being a toddler. Seeing the blue rickety old van pull into the street I came running down the stairs, the pit of my stomach flipping nervously as it filled with anxiety and anticipation at what was to come.
"They're here! They're here!" I squeaked excitedly at Mr. Warehouse as he too peered out the window at the arriving vehicle.
You see this all started on Tuesday evening, as Mr. Warehouse and I had prepared ourselves for bed with Pooch as we normally did, turning off the telly, closing down the lights and going into lockdown making sure all doors and windows were shut. It was about quarter to ten at night when the phone rang. I looked at Mr. Warehouse as I showed him the caller ID. It was his Mom, my future mother-in-law. Worried I answered and before she even had a chance to explain I promptly told her that this was about the time that people call in the night when someone has died.
"Do you want to see some puppies?" she said simply and calmly like some sort of child molester. I mean, of course I did. Immediately hitting redial to facetime her. No sooner had she accepted the call I saw a bundle of fluffiness. A little white girl with patches of brown and black splodging her body, another smooth black and tan puppy and a third wirey black and tan fur baby. Instantly I start freaking out.
"I am being serious. We're leaving in five minutes and were taking one of the girls so which one do you want?" Suddenly everything seemed real and I focused my twilight mind from puppies and cute faces on a screen. Like a child to her parents, I turned to my beloved fiance and pleaded with him to let me get one. After a few pushes, he seemed to give in reluctantly knowing I would probably do whatever I would want regardless of what he had to say.
"I can't make a decision like that I am afraid, as much as I would like to," I said to my excited mother-in-law-to-be. Reluctantly I ended the call and Mr. Warehouse shook his head. We needed to talk about it and I needed to make sure it was the best decision for the family as a whole, not just me and my selfish dreams of being a dog momma to a baby puppy. Talking it over that night and the following day, we called Momma Warehouse back. After further talks, we discovered that it was a friend of a friend who used to breed toy poodles who gave it up to look after her sick husband at home who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia. Unfortunately one night back in early December the Husband had let the breeding stud in with the family pet, a Jack Russell terrier and she fell pregnant. several months later and around Valentine's day a surprise, or nine, were delivered. The lady herself knew nothing about it as she had been so busy with Christmas, New Year and looking after her husband and home she had neglected to notice her dog's belly growing.
With the unexpected litter now twelve-weeks old they were already a month passed being legally allowed to leave their mother and so she took the decision to find them homes. One of the first questions I asked my future mother-in-law was how much. Bearing in mind that the Toy Poodle / Jack Russell mix would already be a popular choice for families as they are intelligent, active little things, small enough to be around kids and hypoallergenic so great for allergy sufferers. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The reason being is that not only was it a terrible accident because her poorly husband had not known that they no longer bred dogs, but also that as a result of this expenses had already been stretched by extra food and what not. The added vaccinations, chipping, insurance and everything else that normally comes with a new puppy would have financially not been possible for the poor lady and her husband and so she wanted to give them away to families that would love and care for them as she had, making sure they were their forever homes.
Which leads us up to the moment I started with. Opening the door I stood patiently at the front door with the rest of the family, like a mother ready to accept her newborn. Ushering me over to the van I peered in and saw the sweetest little bundle of tuft. Black and tan, with a white belly I scooped him up and took him into his new home. Welcome home our little Frankenstein - An homage to my love of all things spooky, Halloween and macabre. That but also the fact he was made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 22 October 2018
Haunted Happenings at Her Majesty's Pleasure
Evening Everyone,
So if you cast your mind back a few weeks ago to my birthday in Mid-September and my otherworldly gift from my bestie - Miss Tweedle-Dee. With the run-up to Halloween coming quickly I am so excited for Autumn and Spookies to come, so with all of this in mind Miss Tweedle-Dee paid for us to both encounter the paranormal inside one of Britain's Most Haunted prisons - HMP Gloucester.
At the time, the website describes HMP Gloucester as having "a long and chilling history with many of the executed criminals remain buried in the grounds of the prison with some of the most infamous serial killers have been incarcerated within the walls of Gloucester Prison." Only last weekend during a catch-up at Treat Street - A local sweet treat bar we had a email that would change things slightly. Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were due to start our overnight ghost hunt at HMP Gloucester was already booked and fully paid for including the hotel which was a non-refundable, non-transferable and non-cancel-able date. the problem that we now in counted was the fact that the new owners of HMP Gloucester had decided that bought out the prison and had decided that Haunted Happenings who were the group that were posting the ghost hunting experienced were no longer accepting any sort of Paranormal company or tour of the prison.
Fortunately though we were able to transfer our trip from one haunted prison it to another and with a few good miles difference between HMP Gloucester and HMP Shepton Mallet we were disappointed to say the least but we were certainly glad that not all was lost and we were able to move our trip and still get our spook on! Having closed as recently as 2013 this formidable prison operated as the oldest prison in England. However, before its closure it was a Category C Lifer Prison incarcerating the most hardened and dangerous of criminals including the notorious Reggie and Ronnie Kray otherwise known as the Kray Twins - The notorious 1950s East End gangsters. The empty corridors and lifeless cells were crying out to be investigated by those who have a fascination for what life must have been like in such a desolate and unforgiving existence, and who were Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to not snatch at such an opportunity. I was even able to sweet talked to the lady at Ibis hotels Gloucester into refunding Miss Tweedle-Dee for the room and instead we easily found a hotel room that could accommodate us within budget.
Originally built as a House of Correction in 1625 this prison has a terrifying history. Much of what had taken place there was extremely brutal. In the 17th and 18th Centuries the men, women and children who were imprisoned there existed in the most horrific conditions where they were left starving in packed, small pox infested cells. It is said that former inmates lie in unmarked graves throughout the grounds and despite the seven Judicial executions, the full amount is largely unknown. As with most places of large occupation capacity, during the second world war HMP Shepton Mallet was adapted as a military prison and used by the British and the Americans but by the end of 1944 sixteen Americans had been hanged and 2 shot by firing squads for crimes that included rape and murder.
And so with everything all in order, Miss Tweede-Dee and I set off on Saturday morning, my Besitie driving in her new car, down to Shepton Mallet and checked into the hotel and instead made the rather grave mistake or opting to visit a local designer retail outlet rather than sleep. Our experience started at 9pm that night and not wanting to be late and in a timely if anxiously early manner, Miss Tweede-Dee and I decided to leave in plenty of time. An experience that we were sure not forget in a hurry. As we were invited in through the large wooden prison gates with suffering torment and death deeply etched into the very fabric of this imposing prison it felt surreal walking around the modern metal railings and old school brick buildings. HMP Shepton Mallet Prison was home for the night as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were excited, if a little on-edge about seances, vigils and contact-experiments in the most active areas of the imposing location and at 3am all would be well as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will return to the hotel, hopefully not possessed! Arriving into Base Camp for the night, I recalled the website saying how "HMP Shepton Mallet, also known as Cornhill, now lies abandoned, bereft of those who were incarcerated there."
Our ghost hunt at HMP Shepton Mallet was nothing if intense and as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I started working in small groups we were taken through on a tour of the prison which included the infirmary, morgue and execution room. The next part of our evening, after a quick snackette and a coffee to warm our souls all accompanying a cigarette, we joined in some amazing experiments in our attempts to make contact with whoever or whatever still walked through the prison corridors. These experiments included several Ouija and Ouija-type Boards, Table Tipping, Glass Moving and some intense watch and wait vigils, even getting to use some of the to date paranormal and ghost hunting equipment. Using the most active areas of the prison throughout the night our group entered the morgue and mortuary area of the prison underneath the exercise yard and conducted a seance type vigils in which we got a few responses from beyond the grave.
Continuing into the early hours, I was excited and really enjoyed using the Ouija Boards to speak with the people from the other side, despite Miss Tweedle-Dee not buying it at all, convinced that someone with their finger on the glass must be moving it. I was wholly convinced though, you could tell with the speed, ease and precision that it takes for the living to move a glass over a smooth board it is not so easy for a spirit and with this can be overwhelming sensation that something was moving the glass other than those we could see around us. We were informed that some of the ghosts that are thought to reside at HMP Shepton Mallet are varied, with links back to the early 17th Century. One of the other groups were able to made contact with a gentleman called Harry who murdered his wife and another group who spoke to a Black American GI called Stephen who was wrongly accused of rape and hung.
My interactions with the spirits were fairly mundane and existed in the form of a gentleman called Chris or Christopher who likes to play games and mess with us using the Ouija board, however when Miss Tweedle-Dee and I moved over to the glass work in a different wing, I was startled after speaking to what I thought was a gentleman who had been put away for homicide started to take an interest to me in particular out of the four or five people lightly touching the glass. After some gentle coaxing from our guide I asked several questions which tried to Whittle Down my understanding of the person or being I was talking with. From the very simple yes-or-no questions, I nervously started asking the entity about itself and it's attraction to me. I discovered that it was a gentleman who passed away in the 1980s and was aged between 20 and 25 when he passed. I cannot recall whether it was on my mother's side or my father's side that he passed away but I do know that there was nothing at physical that he was attracted to although it was something about my being that was intangible that he took a liking to and in a way related to me, despite us never meeting in person. He had never met me even as a small baby and I would never meet him in person, however for whatever reason we were now in a very awkward scenario of yes and no answers to questions that I wasn't sure I knew what to ask.
Some of the most scariest moments were in the hidden cells underneath the courtyard where I clearly saw with my very own eyes a sad and lonely white woman figure bend down to pick something up that was sure was one of the women opposite me in the seance circle that had bent down to pick something off the floor, although on further clarification with the group inside the concrete walls I discovered that I was not the only one to have seen the apparition with the origin of which was not from any of us. With the feeling of something in the thick black blackness moving round I suddenly came over nauseous and as though I was going to be sick any moment. Then, out of nowhere the guide asked me if I was OK to which I responded with the honest truth that I felt terribly sick and overwhelmed with the nausea that was now building as I could feel the bile at the back of my throat balling. Our guide informed me and the rest of the group that this was a totally normal feeling when in the company of the paranormal and especially so when he said that there was twinkly pin-pricks of light sprinkling over me, indicating a spirit presence.
Getting back to the hotel however after what was a very long and exhausting at night of ghost hunting and energy giving, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were glad of the soft and comfy bed to fall into. Revelling in the cosy, warm sheets I heard a confession through the darkness from Miss Tweedle-Dee explaining that whilst she was once a believer she is more sceptical now than she had ever been leading us to one conclusion - Another spooky nights spent somewhere terrifying and maybe this time Mr. Warehouse will join us for a thrill - Asylum anyone?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So if you cast your mind back a few weeks ago to my birthday in Mid-September and my otherworldly gift from my bestie - Miss Tweedle-Dee. With the run-up to Halloween coming quickly I am so excited for Autumn and Spookies to come, so with all of this in mind Miss Tweedle-Dee paid for us to both encounter the paranormal inside one of Britain's Most Haunted prisons - HMP Gloucester.
At the time, the website describes HMP Gloucester as having "a long and chilling history with many of the executed criminals remain buried in the grounds of the prison with some of the most infamous serial killers have been incarcerated within the walls of Gloucester Prison." Only last weekend during a catch-up at Treat Street - A local sweet treat bar we had a email that would change things slightly. Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were due to start our overnight ghost hunt at HMP Gloucester was already booked and fully paid for including the hotel which was a non-refundable, non-transferable and non-cancel-able date. the problem that we now in counted was the fact that the new owners of HMP Gloucester had decided that bought out the prison and had decided that Haunted Happenings who were the group that were posting the ghost hunting experienced were no longer accepting any sort of Paranormal company or tour of the prison.
Fortunately though we were able to transfer our trip from one haunted prison it to another and with a few good miles difference between HMP Gloucester and HMP Shepton Mallet we were disappointed to say the least but we were certainly glad that not all was lost and we were able to move our trip and still get our spook on! Having closed as recently as 2013 this formidable prison operated as the oldest prison in England. However, before its closure it was a Category C Lifer Prison incarcerating the most hardened and dangerous of criminals including the notorious Reggie and Ronnie Kray otherwise known as the Kray Twins - The notorious 1950s East End gangsters. The empty corridors and lifeless cells were crying out to be investigated by those who have a fascination for what life must have been like in such a desolate and unforgiving existence, and who were Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to not snatch at such an opportunity. I was even able to sweet talked to the lady at Ibis hotels Gloucester into refunding Miss Tweedle-Dee for the room and instead we easily found a hotel room that could accommodate us within budget.
Originally built as a House of Correction in 1625 this prison has a terrifying history. Much of what had taken place there was extremely brutal. In the 17th and 18th Centuries the men, women and children who were imprisoned there existed in the most horrific conditions where they were left starving in packed, small pox infested cells. It is said that former inmates lie in unmarked graves throughout the grounds and despite the seven Judicial executions, the full amount is largely unknown. As with most places of large occupation capacity, during the second world war HMP Shepton Mallet was adapted as a military prison and used by the British and the Americans but by the end of 1944 sixteen Americans had been hanged and 2 shot by firing squads for crimes that included rape and murder.
And so with everything all in order, Miss Tweede-Dee and I set off on Saturday morning, my Besitie driving in her new car, down to Shepton Mallet and checked into the hotel and instead made the rather grave mistake or opting to visit a local designer retail outlet rather than sleep. Our experience started at 9pm that night and not wanting to be late and in a timely if anxiously early manner, Miss Tweede-Dee and I decided to leave in plenty of time. An experience that we were sure not forget in a hurry. As we were invited in through the large wooden prison gates with suffering torment and death deeply etched into the very fabric of this imposing prison it felt surreal walking around the modern metal railings and old school brick buildings. HMP Shepton Mallet Prison was home for the night as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were excited, if a little on-edge about seances, vigils and contact-experiments in the most active areas of the imposing location and at 3am all would be well as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will return to the hotel, hopefully not possessed! Arriving into Base Camp for the night, I recalled the website saying how "HMP Shepton Mallet, also known as Cornhill, now lies abandoned, bereft of those who were incarcerated there."
Our ghost hunt at HMP Shepton Mallet was nothing if intense and as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I started working in small groups we were taken through on a tour of the prison which included the infirmary, morgue and execution room. The next part of our evening, after a quick snackette and a coffee to warm our souls all accompanying a cigarette, we joined in some amazing experiments in our attempts to make contact with whoever or whatever still walked through the prison corridors. These experiments included several Ouija and Ouija-type Boards, Table Tipping, Glass Moving and some intense watch and wait vigils, even getting to use some of the to date paranormal and ghost hunting equipment. Using the most active areas of the prison throughout the night our group entered the morgue and mortuary area of the prison underneath the exercise yard and conducted a seance type vigils in which we got a few responses from beyond the grave.
Continuing into the early hours, I was excited and really enjoyed using the Ouija Boards to speak with the people from the other side, despite Miss Tweedle-Dee not buying it at all, convinced that someone with their finger on the glass must be moving it. I was wholly convinced though, you could tell with the speed, ease and precision that it takes for the living to move a glass over a smooth board it is not so easy for a spirit and with this can be overwhelming sensation that something was moving the glass other than those we could see around us. We were informed that some of the ghosts that are thought to reside at HMP Shepton Mallet are varied, with links back to the early 17th Century. One of the other groups were able to made contact with a gentleman called Harry who murdered his wife and another group who spoke to a Black American GI called Stephen who was wrongly accused of rape and hung.
My interactions with the spirits were fairly mundane and existed in the form of a gentleman called Chris or Christopher who likes to play games and mess with us using the Ouija board, however when Miss Tweedle-Dee and I moved over to the glass work in a different wing, I was startled after speaking to what I thought was a gentleman who had been put away for homicide started to take an interest to me in particular out of the four or five people lightly touching the glass. After some gentle coaxing from our guide I asked several questions which tried to Whittle Down my understanding of the person or being I was talking with. From the very simple yes-or-no questions, I nervously started asking the entity about itself and it's attraction to me. I discovered that it was a gentleman who passed away in the 1980s and was aged between 20 and 25 when he passed. I cannot recall whether it was on my mother's side or my father's side that he passed away but I do know that there was nothing at physical that he was attracted to although it was something about my being that was intangible that he took a liking to and in a way related to me, despite us never meeting in person. He had never met me even as a small baby and I would never meet him in person, however for whatever reason we were now in a very awkward scenario of yes and no answers to questions that I wasn't sure I knew what to ask.
Some of the most scariest moments were in the hidden cells underneath the courtyard where I clearly saw with my very own eyes a sad and lonely white woman figure bend down to pick something up that was sure was one of the women opposite me in the seance circle that had bent down to pick something off the floor, although on further clarification with the group inside the concrete walls I discovered that I was not the only one to have seen the apparition with the origin of which was not from any of us. With the feeling of something in the thick black blackness moving round I suddenly came over nauseous and as though I was going to be sick any moment. Then, out of nowhere the guide asked me if I was OK to which I responded with the honest truth that I felt terribly sick and overwhelmed with the nausea that was now building as I could feel the bile at the back of my throat balling. Our guide informed me and the rest of the group that this was a totally normal feeling when in the company of the paranormal and especially so when he said that there was twinkly pin-pricks of light sprinkling over me, indicating a spirit presence.
Getting back to the hotel however after what was a very long and exhausting at night of ghost hunting and energy giving, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were glad of the soft and comfy bed to fall into. Revelling in the cosy, warm sheets I heard a confession through the darkness from Miss Tweedle-Dee explaining that whilst she was once a believer she is more sceptical now than she had ever been leading us to one conclusion - Another spooky nights spent somewhere terrifying and maybe this time Mr. Warehouse will join us for a thrill - Asylum anyone?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 20 June 2016
Newquay - New Life?
Hello-Hello,
Seven-and-a-bit hours on the road, most of it in traffic and I was glad to seeing signs for Newquay. But as we bid farewell to our driver AKA Mr. Warehouse's cousin and uncle, the boyfriend and I prepared ourselves for the hell that could be awaiting us in the hotel we booked - Berties Lodge, Newquay! The reviews had not been kind, some of them utterly hilarious, but all with distasteful comments. One person had written that "After a long and sleepless night, we were happy to find a sea view (if we craned our necks), and that we wasn't murdered in our sleep." although this review was entitled: Have stayed in nicer crack-dens. I have enclosed the link - Trust me you'll be wetting yourself by the end as was I and understandably you can understand how I was shitting myself so much for checking-in.
Reading on the website that we had to check in at the neighbouring hotel, we thought it was odd but continued. Walking into the typical 17th Century building, Mr. Warehouse and I marvelled at the beauty the Hotel Victoria had to offer and begrudged all the people that were residing there all in the knowledge we would soon be in our 'not-so-nice crack-den'. Talking with the Receptionist, a young girl I have since made friends with, she explained that for one reason or another (to which I am still not sure why) mine and Mr. Warehouse's room had been transferred over to the gorgeous Hotel Victoria. Looking at each other we were stunned and had to check that everything was correct with the young reception girl several times to help us believe the luck we had again. Booking hotels had always seemed to end well for myself and Mr. Warehouse including the under-thirty-quid hotel room we booked in west London our first weekend away together near Christmas a couple of years back. Or even last year at the wedding we went to in Wisbech. I booked a hotel on the outskirts of the town only for the fact it was cheap and had a pool and spa area however when we arrived, we ended up in a beautiful Apartment-Suite with a balcony and all because our room had suffered a flood the evening before. Upgrades seem to come naturally to us when we book and clearly our trip to Newquay was also something of a little win!
Checking into the room and dropping our stuff off we headed straight out to join the Bride and her family down here in a local Taverna for some drinks. Cider flowing and Chocolate cake on order, talk soon turned to whose wedding was next and what a surprise it was Mr. Warehouse and I that were in the firing line.
"Maybe we should just tackle one wedding at a time, shall we?!" I said, looking at Mr. Warehouse for advice. Unfortunately all I got was a smirk but soon enough the Bride came over and introduced herself as Mr. Warehouse's Cousin, soon to be married tomorrow. The subject soon turned to Newquay and what a wonderful place both her and her Husband-to-be live. Although what happened next was a slight shock to say the least.
"You should move down here" the Bride said, seeming enthusiastic. Mr. Warehouse looked my way with a considering look in his eyes and I answered his assuming gaze with something about getting a job and finding work down here.
"Hey man, I work in warehouse, I could easily find you a job tomorrow!" the Bride answered chirpily.
"But what about a house? The rent must be extortionate around here, and buying a home in the future - Forget it!" I replied.
"Well, our rent is £450 per month for a one-bedroom maisonette, less than five minutes from the beach. House prices are not as crazy as you may think, with a standard three-bed-semi setting you back around £185,000" the Bride came back with.
Mr. Warehouse looked at me. I looked at him. The weather was nicer (at least at that point anyway). The beach looked lovely. Roxy would love the long walks on the shoreline and for sand to be in between her paws in the final years of her life. House prices I knew already were not too bad since looking in the Estate Agents window on the way to the Taverna so home wise it would be not so bad. School places wouldn't be as sizable as they are up north and the cost of living was about the same anywhere you go now in England. The only deal clincher really would be my salary as I would refuse to move for the same or less money I am on now. And 100% I would need to drive. We had barely been in Cornwall a couple of hours and already they were trying to make us stay but I knew that as I looked at Mr. Warehouse's lit-up face we would be having a long discussion about it at some point over the weekend.
After a long beach walk with Mr. Warehouse and his other cousin that we drove down with, Saturday morning came and with the alarms we got dressed and headed out for breakfast, finally settling on a good old 'spoons brekkie. A long day ensued with all the trimmings you would expect from a wedding; A nervous groom, a beautiful bride, tear-rendering speeches and some oddly-attired guests. All in all though it was such a wonderful day and the weather, thank goodness held out for the happy couple. Myself and Mr. Warehouse took care of his little nephew until that it it was time to head to the reception venue to watch the newly-wed's dance the night away.
Soon enough though Sunday morning arrived and with it came the rain. Oh Jesus fucking Christ the rain. It rained and rained and rained and rained. All. Day. Long. So we did what all British people do in the rain. Walk around aimlessly and grumble that there is nothing to do. After paying over a tenner each to get into what was advertised as an aquarium but was more like a large garden centre, we spent the next half-hour peering into tanks whilst avoiding snotty children and prams galore. I mean why on heaven or earth would you bring a small baby to an aquarium. What need does a seventeen-month-old have to see a pufferfish or black-tipped-shark? Nevertheless we headed reluctantly back to the hotel and spent the afternoon watching films and planning what to do tomorrow if the weather was equally shite.
Before ordering a Chinese supper I spent some long moments exploring the winding halls and long Shining-esk corridors on Sunday. An old styled grey building, the Hotel Victoria looks out over the Atlantic Ocean and has many, many reception rooms to explore including a well-maintained lawn with pergola overlooking the sea, perfect for weddings. A plush and cosy orangery/conservatory also looks out across the lawn and beautiful views of the horizon something I cant help think must look incredible with the sunrise or sunset. A grand ballroom follows through from the glass walls of the orangery/conservatory and includes a dance floor with an alien-like glitter ball and DJ booth included. Down some stair and across the room is a bar area which would have probably been the Drawing Room originally and includes yet more wooden fixtures and fittings as well as a large bar and comfy looking couches and sofa's. Through the brass and dark-wooden Reception including original revolving entrance door and spiralling staircase and across the elegant hallway corridor is a regal looking restaurant encompasses glittering chandeliers, sky-high ceilings and beautiful wooden furnishings. Down to the pool and spa areas I have not yet ventured but if I can find a swimming costume I shall inform you all of my findings.
I listened as the young receptionist girl and hotel porter (whom himself looked haunting) told me of the tall tales the hotel had to tell. The hotel had been used in both the World Wars as a Hospital for injured soldiers and some could even be seen still wandering the halls looking for release from Purgatory. The creepy porter explained in detail how the Hotel's kitchen was used as a operating theatre during this period. The young girl had explained later on that on some lonely nights on the reception desk she had heard footsteps and opening and closing of doors which had been backed-up by several residents over the years. She had said she has seen shadows on the second floors and that "its" presence felt like a women in a full gown since she could hear the swish of the dress and soft footsteps of a lady.
"Have you been up to the third floor? Do you know why there is now a wall and windows where their should be staircase spindles?" The Porter asked. I shook my head but clearly enthusiastic to hear what was up there, I waited for the answer. Both the Porter and the Receptionist then explained how the owners wife had met her death. She had been up to the third floor and was looking out the windows across what was the grasslands, now the main street of Newquay. She took a trip on some carpet probably and fell the three storeys to the Reception below, killing her. Intrigued I returned to the room and have felt an eerie but benevolent feeling of relaxation since hearing those tales, something in all fairness I had felt since entering the hotel on Friday evening yet somehow seem more so now after hearing these stories in the walls.
As yesterday today, has been much the same weather. Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to visit the infamously haunted jail in the neighbouring town, Bodmin, however with only a few coaches a day going there, we had not booked in advance so our return journey was not guaranteed. With the weather still crappy, I stormed off in a hump, that was until Mr. Warehouse and I headed into the arcades to get out of the rain. Me and the other half had been collecting all the loose change and the odds and sods of coins from each others wallets over the last few months, putting everything 20p and under into a plastic jar to use on our next trip to the arcades. Not counting how much was there we emptied it out onto a glass-topped games machine and proceeded to count it out into pennies, two-pennies, five-pennies, ten-pennies and twenty-penny coins. Playing alongside together for more than an hour we decided to cash in the tickets we had accumulated and see what sort of naff prize we could get. Since he was so excitable, I let him cash in the tickets for something he wanted - A Spiderman cereal bowl. I suppose the fact that soon, once the weather had picked up, Mr. Warehouse had promised me he would accompany me on a Horse-riding hack along the shore, which for me was a romantic gesture I was bemused with, at least for now anyway.
After the weather brightened up this afternoon, Mr. Warehouse and I took an exhilarating boat ride out into the Atlantic ocean, all in the hope of seeing some seals, dolphins, exotic fish and maybe even a Basking shark. We did not see any of those, but we nearly saw what Mr. Warehouse had for breakfast. Safely back on dry land, tonight is our last night so as I finish up my blog this week I will take Mr. Warehouse for a walk later on around the hotel as I did on yesterday's rainy afternoon. That is if he is still awake ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Seven-and-a-bit hours on the road, most of it in traffic and I was glad to seeing signs for Newquay. But as we bid farewell to our driver AKA Mr. Warehouse's cousin and uncle, the boyfriend and I prepared ourselves for the hell that could be awaiting us in the hotel we booked - Berties Lodge, Newquay! The reviews had not been kind, some of them utterly hilarious, but all with distasteful comments. One person had written that "After a long and sleepless night, we were happy to find a sea view (if we craned our necks), and that we wasn't murdered in our sleep." although this review was entitled: Have stayed in nicer crack-dens. I have enclosed the link - Trust me you'll be wetting yourself by the end as was I and understandably you can understand how I was shitting myself so much for checking-in.
Reading on the website that we had to check in at the neighbouring hotel, we thought it was odd but continued. Walking into the typical 17th Century building, Mr. Warehouse and I marvelled at the beauty the Hotel Victoria had to offer and begrudged all the people that were residing there all in the knowledge we would soon be in our 'not-so-nice crack-den'. Talking with the Receptionist, a young girl I have since made friends with, she explained that for one reason or another (to which I am still not sure why) mine and Mr. Warehouse's room had been transferred over to the gorgeous Hotel Victoria. Looking at each other we were stunned and had to check that everything was correct with the young reception girl several times to help us believe the luck we had again. Booking hotels had always seemed to end well for myself and Mr. Warehouse including the under-thirty-quid hotel room we booked in west London our first weekend away together near Christmas a couple of years back. Or even last year at the wedding we went to in Wisbech. I booked a hotel on the outskirts of the town only for the fact it was cheap and had a pool and spa area however when we arrived, we ended up in a beautiful Apartment-Suite with a balcony and all because our room had suffered a flood the evening before. Upgrades seem to come naturally to us when we book and clearly our trip to Newquay was also something of a little win!
Checking into the room and dropping our stuff off we headed straight out to join the Bride and her family down here in a local Taverna for some drinks. Cider flowing and Chocolate cake on order, talk soon turned to whose wedding was next and what a surprise it was Mr. Warehouse and I that were in the firing line.
"Maybe we should just tackle one wedding at a time, shall we?!" I said, looking at Mr. Warehouse for advice. Unfortunately all I got was a smirk but soon enough the Bride came over and introduced herself as Mr. Warehouse's Cousin, soon to be married tomorrow. The subject soon turned to Newquay and what a wonderful place both her and her Husband-to-be live. Although what happened next was a slight shock to say the least.
"You should move down here" the Bride said, seeming enthusiastic. Mr. Warehouse looked my way with a considering look in his eyes and I answered his assuming gaze with something about getting a job and finding work down here.
"Hey man, I work in warehouse, I could easily find you a job tomorrow!" the Bride answered chirpily.
"But what about a house? The rent must be extortionate around here, and buying a home in the future - Forget it!" I replied.
"Well, our rent is £450 per month for a one-bedroom maisonette, less than five minutes from the beach. House prices are not as crazy as you may think, with a standard three-bed-semi setting you back around £185,000" the Bride came back with.
Mr. Warehouse looked at me. I looked at him. The weather was nicer (at least at that point anyway). The beach looked lovely. Roxy would love the long walks on the shoreline and for sand to be in between her paws in the final years of her life. House prices I knew already were not too bad since looking in the Estate Agents window on the way to the Taverna so home wise it would be not so bad. School places wouldn't be as sizable as they are up north and the cost of living was about the same anywhere you go now in England. The only deal clincher really would be my salary as I would refuse to move for the same or less money I am on now. And 100% I would need to drive. We had barely been in Cornwall a couple of hours and already they were trying to make us stay but I knew that as I looked at Mr. Warehouse's lit-up face we would be having a long discussion about it at some point over the weekend.
After a long beach walk with Mr. Warehouse and his other cousin that we drove down with, Saturday morning came and with the alarms we got dressed and headed out for breakfast, finally settling on a good old 'spoons brekkie. A long day ensued with all the trimmings you would expect from a wedding; A nervous groom, a beautiful bride, tear-rendering speeches and some oddly-attired guests. All in all though it was such a wonderful day and the weather, thank goodness held out for the happy couple. Myself and Mr. Warehouse took care of his little nephew until that it it was time to head to the reception venue to watch the newly-wed's dance the night away.
Soon enough though Sunday morning arrived and with it came the rain. Oh Jesus fucking Christ the rain. It rained and rained and rained and rained. All. Day. Long. So we did what all British people do in the rain. Walk around aimlessly and grumble that there is nothing to do. After paying over a tenner each to get into what was advertised as an aquarium but was more like a large garden centre, we spent the next half-hour peering into tanks whilst avoiding snotty children and prams galore. I mean why on heaven or earth would you bring a small baby to an aquarium. What need does a seventeen-month-old have to see a pufferfish or black-tipped-shark? Nevertheless we headed reluctantly back to the hotel and spent the afternoon watching films and planning what to do tomorrow if the weather was equally shite.
Before ordering a Chinese supper I spent some long moments exploring the winding halls and long Shining-esk corridors on Sunday. An old styled grey building, the Hotel Victoria looks out over the Atlantic Ocean and has many, many reception rooms to explore including a well-maintained lawn with pergola overlooking the sea, perfect for weddings. A plush and cosy orangery/conservatory also looks out across the lawn and beautiful views of the horizon something I cant help think must look incredible with the sunrise or sunset. A grand ballroom follows through from the glass walls of the orangery/conservatory and includes a dance floor with an alien-like glitter ball and DJ booth included. Down some stair and across the room is a bar area which would have probably been the Drawing Room originally and includes yet more wooden fixtures and fittings as well as a large bar and comfy looking couches and sofa's. Through the brass and dark-wooden Reception including original revolving entrance door and spiralling staircase and across the elegant hallway corridor is a regal looking restaurant encompasses glittering chandeliers, sky-high ceilings and beautiful wooden furnishings. Down to the pool and spa areas I have not yet ventured but if I can find a swimming costume I shall inform you all of my findings.
I listened as the young receptionist girl and hotel porter (whom himself looked haunting) told me of the tall tales the hotel had to tell. The hotel had been used in both the World Wars as a Hospital for injured soldiers and some could even be seen still wandering the halls looking for release from Purgatory. The creepy porter explained in detail how the Hotel's kitchen was used as a operating theatre during this period. The young girl had explained later on that on some lonely nights on the reception desk she had heard footsteps and opening and closing of doors which had been backed-up by several residents over the years. She had said she has seen shadows on the second floors and that "its" presence felt like a women in a full gown since she could hear the swish of the dress and soft footsteps of a lady.
"Have you been up to the third floor? Do you know why there is now a wall and windows where their should be staircase spindles?" The Porter asked. I shook my head but clearly enthusiastic to hear what was up there, I waited for the answer. Both the Porter and the Receptionist then explained how the owners wife had met her death. She had been up to the third floor and was looking out the windows across what was the grasslands, now the main street of Newquay. She took a trip on some carpet probably and fell the three storeys to the Reception below, killing her. Intrigued I returned to the room and have felt an eerie but benevolent feeling of relaxation since hearing those tales, something in all fairness I had felt since entering the hotel on Friday evening yet somehow seem more so now after hearing these stories in the walls.
As yesterday today, has been much the same weather. Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to visit the infamously haunted jail in the neighbouring town, Bodmin, however with only a few coaches a day going there, we had not booked in advance so our return journey was not guaranteed. With the weather still crappy, I stormed off in a hump, that was until Mr. Warehouse and I headed into the arcades to get out of the rain. Me and the other half had been collecting all the loose change and the odds and sods of coins from each others wallets over the last few months, putting everything 20p and under into a plastic jar to use on our next trip to the arcades. Not counting how much was there we emptied it out onto a glass-topped games machine and proceeded to count it out into pennies, two-pennies, five-pennies, ten-pennies and twenty-penny coins. Playing alongside together for more than an hour we decided to cash in the tickets we had accumulated and see what sort of naff prize we could get. Since he was so excitable, I let him cash in the tickets for something he wanted - A Spiderman cereal bowl. I suppose the fact that soon, once the weather had picked up, Mr. Warehouse had promised me he would accompany me on a Horse-riding hack along the shore, which for me was a romantic gesture I was bemused with, at least for now anyway.
After the weather brightened up this afternoon, Mr. Warehouse and I took an exhilarating boat ride out into the Atlantic ocean, all in the hope of seeing some seals, dolphins, exotic fish and maybe even a Basking shark. We did not see any of those, but we nearly saw what Mr. Warehouse had for breakfast. Safely back on dry land, tonight is our last night so as I finish up my blog this week I will take Mr. Warehouse for a walk later on around the hotel as I did on yesterday's rainy afternoon. That is if he is still awake ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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