I believe. I believe in ghosts, ghouls, mysterious old ladies, orbs and headless horses. I believe in the lot. I believe, and I am afraid.
Which is why I was more than a little apprehensive when the boss suggested I head off to West Auckland to join in with a ghost watch at the Manor House Hotel.
Everybody I spoke to beforehand had a ghost story to tell so by the time I was driving over there, I was already sweating slightly.
At the hotel reception (think dark oak, suits of armour, tapestry curtains) I explained why I was there.
?Rather you than me? said the receptionist, in a helpful way.
I showed myself up to room seven where I met a handful of Dean?s followers. I sit down in a chair and they crack up. Apparently before I arrived the chair was shaking backwards and forwards on its own. I stand up quickly and perch on the bed.
Ten minutes later and a group of 11 people and myself are gathered in the meeting room for a de-brief.
In case you don?t know, this is the general pattern for a ghost hunt: everybody splits into groups of three or four and takes it in turns to spend half an hour in a ?haunted? room, before returning to the meeting room to report any goings-on and enjoy a bit of a buffet. Ghost watching is hungry work. I arrived at 10pm on the dot and the crisp bowl was already empty.
Here I meet Dean ?Midas? Maynard, Crook?s resident psychic, who has arranged the whole night with help from the hotel?s manager, Michael Sutton.
Dean seems remarkably sunny for a man with one foot in the dark side, and listens intently as everybody reports back.
It?s been a busy first vigil. Mary and Hillary heard somebody say shhhh in their ear. My group experienced the shaking chair. There is much talk about funny smells and rooms going light and dark.
Mary, who is a first timer like me, won the chance to come to the ghost watch on the radio. She asks me if I am a skeptic. ?No? I whisper, and she instantly rewards me with a smile. Glen is a skeptic, but says he is starting to be won over. Like Mary, he won a competition on the radio to join Dean for a different ghost hunt, and has now become part of the team, along with his wife Angela, and son Mikey.
Glen said: ?I didn?t believe in any of it at first, but since we started doing this, I?ve heard a few things that have changed my mind. I?m still waiting to see something though.?
Next I join Dean?s team and we all head up to room 34. Apparently the room has a male spirit in it that is not very nice. We sit in different chairs and Dean puts all the lights out.
Everybody except me is feeling quite an oppressive spirit. I concentrate harder and try to feel more oppressed but it?s not happening for me. I really want to join in but nothing is brushing against my hair and I don?t even feel cold.
Dean begins calling the spirit: ?Make yourself known to us, show yourself, knock on the table, brush against one of the group.?
I get quite excited at one point when Dean sits on a chair and everybody else says he is changing into a larger man. I think I can see it too; he does looks taller and has broader shoulders. But when the torch goes on, I realise that I?d just underestimated his stature. We stay in the room for ages and I begin to feel a bit sleepy, but still not oppressed. ?Perhaps something will brush against my leg in the next room,? I think, before realising that the ghost hunt is turning me into a pervert.
I draw a blank in the next room too, room 11, with Glen?s group. Glen tries to coax out Mrs Dyer, who lived at the Manor House and died in this room. A box of her letters and photographs have been placed on the bed.
But sadly Mrs Dyer is not that bothered by us rifling through her documents. She refuses to lift one ghostly finger for us. I am getting impatient and join in with the pleading: ?Do you like our company or are you a bit sick of us?? I shout. The only conclusion to be drawn is that Mrs Dyer couldn?t give a fig either way, and we troop sadly downstairs.
We all head outside for a break. It?s midnight and all of a sudden a horse neighs. We all hear it (this is it, I think, I am one of them now). Dean is doing a live link to a radio station and tells the DJ that we have all just heard a ghost horse in the middle of a town.
The good mood is restored and we all feel pleased until a real horse trots past with a 4x4 in hot pursuit. It is just a real life flesh and blood stead on the run and not Henry VIII?s headless and mystical charger. We are crushed. Stupid horse.
A s?ance in the Knight?s Hall is the final attempt to get a bit of action, but by this point everybody seems to have lost heart. I think about stamping on the floor to give them a thrill but decide this is unethical.
Dean remained philosophical about the whole thing.
He said: ?The night started off really well but just seemed to tail off, but we will try again near Halloween and who knows??
So No. I didn?t see, hear, or feel a thing. But I did enjoy it, and I can see why the group are so into it. Ghost or no ghost it?s a top night out.
Read the full feature with pictures in this week's Mercury on sale at all good newsagents.
http://www.wearvalleymercury.co.uk/wear ... ,1437.html
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