When I wrote my Supernatural Tales? posts, it struck me that, throughout my life, weirdness has featured – and sometimes dominated. Come back with me, if you will, to the bitterly cold winter of 1985/86…
But first, a caveat. Most genuine supernatural experiences are remarkably free of chain-rattling spectres, mysteriously blood-spattered walls, distant sobbing, and shrieks in the night. They are, in the main, almost disappointingly mundane – unless you have to live with them.
When I was married, I lived in Oxton, Birkenhead, in the garden flat of a typical Liverpool magnate’s townhouse, converted into flats. Our flat, at the front, was in the basement, at the back, because of the slope (I doubt Oxton has any flat land – it’s built on a ridge), it was level with the garden – hence the name; it looked better than Partially Subterranean Flat… Continue reading →