Ghostly stories

 I shouldn't be reading them, living alone, let alone in the middle of the night but just read a spooky one on Legendary Dartmoor, which I follow on Facebook.  If you are interested in Dartmoor at all, then visit their website, as SO much information on there about the traditions, history, folklore, flora and fauna etc.  This particular story told of a young man riding 20 miles across the moor on a snowy night, and happening upon an old lady - who ignored him - and later seeing her being murdered, whereupon his horse bolted.  This was all an action replay of course but spooky all the same.

We used to tell the kids about the Hairy Hands, which had been experienced in the Gunpowder Mills/Postbridge area of Dartmoor (where Keith, friend Stu and I used to "wild camp" as it's now called, in the 1980s).  These hands used to grab the wheel of a car and steer it off the road, or else the handlebars of a motorbike on a certain stretch of road.  Logical explanations put it down to the camber of the road . . .  Interestingly this tale - from 1910 - 1920s - faded away with the coming of the radio to these parts, so perhaps folk were less gullible after that.  As we walked back across the moor, beside the East Dart, I still remember shining my torch at the old grey stone wall which separated the moor from the oh-I-want-it house surrounded by beech trees, seeing the little green Maidenhair Spleenwort trembling in the night breeze.  I was so VERY glad never to come across a pair of Hairy Hands!!  

I was glad to leave such things behind me when we left the old house.  Too much happening there for my comfort and peace of mind.

A hanging valley on Milford Sound.  I can remember being taught about these when I was 15 . . .

I don't think that much happens in Builth itself, though there is a haunted hotel in the vicinity.  Not so far away, my mind takes me back to a lovely old stone house (1600s or so with a Latin inscription over the door) which Keith really liked, though it had no outside storage or parking.  It was a few miles from Talgarth.  I went into the living room and eyed the blocked up door in the corner.  I could pick up the vibes from feet away (Keith couldn't) and I told him in uncertain terms there was no way we were going to buy THAT house.  Violent death had happened in that doorway and there was something still lingering.   I heard from a friend in Hay, who knew the lady who used to live there, that it did come with "add ons" . . .

I am very popular now I'm back . . .

My sleep pattern is still all over the place.  I could NOT stay awake past 8.15 last night and of course, woke at 3.15 (not that I slept right through before that, waking every hour or so).  I may have to get some knock-out drops from the Dr or pharmacy.  Surely this can't still be jet lag, over a week on?  I need to get out for a good walk, weather permitting.  Tam & Rosie are here for the weekend, and we will get the Christmas tree, and we're also going to Hay Christmas Market on Saturday, so that will get me out and about.  I have written all the cards now but need to do a couple of letters and wrap a couple of gifts to post.  I am still binge-watching Broadchurch, but spotted the film of Under The Greenwood Tree (Thomas Hardy) and enjoyed that too.  Lots of archaeology/history as well.

Right, 5.30 a.m.  Perhaps I should head back to bed?  (I did, but a waste of time as I didn't sleep and came down at 7.)