As promised - Ghost Towns Live - Part 3

The Halifax Piece Hall in the snow



What a difference a day makes. We went to sleep on a freezing but clear night and woke to snow. Inches of it lying thick on the ground and white flakes whirling around in the sky, looking for somewhere to land. The roads were covered, the trains weren’t running – it was

just the sort of weather I remembered from when I used to live in the Pennines and that I was grateful to have moved away from. West Yorkshire towns are all built on hills – steep hills – and the combination of steep hills and deep snow is lethal.

So that changed a lot of plans.

My plans – because I wanted to visit some of the places where I have happy memories of Halifax –My plans – because I wanted to visit some of the places where I have happy memories of Halifax – Shibden Hall and the house and area I grew up in. That wasn’t a good idea in the whirling snow storm.

The TV production plans. They had also thought of going to Shibden Hall but the travelling conditions, specially at night made that difficult. And then several of the experts couldn’t turn up. Add into the confusion the fact that there had not been any ‘Doorstep divination’ on the previous night and you had a producer scrambling round to make sure he had enough to fill the three hours, The BM had a frantic phone call during the day to make sure he would be able to attend – and did he have any ghostly experiences of his own in case they were needed?

By the time the evening came around, we were old hands at the TV experience. Even the waiting around seemed to fly by as we chatted to presenters and crew, the people we’d come to know over the past nights. Graham the sound man explained how bouncing the sound off satellites work and how they made sure that certain microphones had clarity at just the right moment – all the time conducting a conversation with the invisible person in some other part of the building who had spoken in his earpiece. Liz arrived cuddled up in polo neck wool jumper, jacket and scarf and emerged from makeup having changed into a lightweight blue-grey tunic dress and – hang on - were those black leggings? Oh dear, now I know I’m getting older when I see fashions like that coming back again.




We watched Derek Acorah meet the prizewinners from a previous Ghost Towns Live Contest. They hung on every word he said, brought books to be signed, and one man presented him with a sculpture of the medium’s head.
Then Tracey, Ken and Aaron whose home had been the subject of the last investigation on the previous night turned up, more than happy to talk about their experience. ‘Could you see how scared I was?’ asked Aaron, a stunningly handsome young man with black curls. ‘I was really scared.’ That had been my own worry as the programme ended. One of the spirits that supposedly haunted the cottage was a former owner – someone who had had the property when the now barn conversion had been just a barn and he wasn’t happy with the way they had changed it all as they modernised. If spirits could be disturbed then this one had been stirred up by the investigation too. But the whole family felt that things were so much better in the house this morning. It had felt so much warmer, calmer, happier, they assured us. They were delighted by what had happened. And when Derek Acorah had connected up with an old lady they had known too, then he had ‘talked just like her – that was just the way she spoke!’

Because there are a couple of experts missing, my seat on the front row has now moved up several spaces and I am now in one of those chairs where on past nights people have claimed to have felt things. I’m determined to be rational and calm. The atmosphere is warm and relaxed – we know what we’re doing – there’s that line again – ‘300 paranormal fans’ – applause . . .and the show is off again.

One of the things about a live show is that you never know quite what will happen – so when one of the investigations, in a nearby restaurant in the mill complex takes off then the cameras stay with it. And this is where I can answer one of the queries I’ve had in a letter asking about the experience:

What surprised us is that he (the BM) and Richard weren't really asked much
about history... it was all very much brushed over. No corroboration of facts or
what have you. I know you can't do a huge amount live but even so...

The point about Ghost Towns live is in it’s shout line – ‘Your ghosts – your stories – his connection!’

It’s about investigating the places that the public have come to tell the programme about. Private homes, shops, restaurants, not the ‘big’ stories of history. Those tend to be covered in the companion programme that started the fascination with the paranormal and with Derek Acorah – Most Haunted. There they match the ghostly investigations with looking into the history as well. In this programme, often the smaller places are much less easy to investigate. The names that crop up are much less possible to track down on the night. The BM and I were discussing the fact that for historians it would be fascinating to have follow-up programmes when, having had time to do research, they can report back.

Watching the medium running, skipping – almost dancing around the room total blackness while somewhere else and expensive light display crashes to the ground is better television than a couple of experts talking, even if they do know that children who worked in those mills would have used their lunch times to play – and that there are reports of the death in 1876 in those mills of a young boy of nine, the approximate age of the ghost child the restaurant manager thinks he’s seen.

Watching the screen playing out the shadowy images, I suddenly realise that my left hand is very very cold. So is my arm. And there is a definite cold draft between me and Paul Bellenger. I check if he can feel it too – he can – and so we spend the next ad break looking round, standing up, checking to see if we can find any reason for it. All I can say is that we didn’t find one. There was no door behind us, definitely no windows. I don’t know where it came from – or why it went away again . I just know I felt it. And I've no idea if it meant anything or nothing - I'm just fascinated by the fact that ti happened in those seats.

Too soon the end of the evening arrives, the audience files out. Once again, the investigation is still going on out in Halifax – we shall have to wait until the show is repeated on TV or another Ghost Towns Live reports what happened. I take a last few photographs. And we start to pack up. We finally get to meet the researcher who started all this by contacting the BM a couple of weeks ago, having read his book. His name is Hassan but he has a broad Scottish accent – I love that sort of cultural mix that creates a blend of countries and languages. We thank him for his major part in giving us this unexpected and fascinating experience.

Out again into the cold, snow covered town. We make our way back to our hotel where we sit and talk and talk and talk over a bottle of wine. From being terrified at the prospect of appearing on TV, the BM is now buzzing with how much he enjoyed it, how he would love to do it again. But for now it’s the prospect of the drive home, and the normal routine. I must get back to my desk and the current book, and the BM must head for the University to teach Writing Narrative . . .

But you never know. Foul Deeds and Suspicious Deaths in Halifax is not the only book of true crime/local history the BM has written – there’s one on Bradford, Newcastle, a book on Lincoln and one on Lincolnshire Murders are coming out this year . He’s busy with FDSD Liverpool right now.

Watch this space . . I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.


PS I did try to include some more photographs in this - but Blogger is not co-operating. So I'll try again later.