Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 2, 2007 19:12:41 GMT -5
The Boggart
The Boggart of Holmfirth which, like all the natives of Yorkshire, has a typically hard-edged sense of humour.
There was once a farmer in a little town near Huddersfield called Holmfirth, (the "Last of the Summer Wine" series on PBS is shot there), whose farm was plagued by an extremely mischievous Boggart, which was forever upsetting the milk-churns, breaking the dishes, scaring the children and servants, and tormenting the dogs and cats. In the end his wife threatened to leave home if her husband didn't do something about this unbearable state of affairs.
The farmer summoned the parish priest and the local wise-woman, but nothing had any effect; the boggart continued its pranks undismayed.
Finally, the farmer gave up in despair, sold the farm, and loaded all his belongings onto his largest cart to move to another village. At the top of the hill they stopped to look back for the last time at their old home, and a thin little voice from somewhere inside the mound of furniture said "Well, I hope there's more room in't next place than there was isn't last one."
Peter Wood
Happisburgh, England
One of the most hideous ghosts of all time haunted this Norfolk town in the
1800s, and was spotted by local farmers on many occasions.
This ghost appeared as a legless human torso, its head dangling down its back attached by a chord of flesh. It was seen floating from the sea to an ancient well, where it would put down the sack that it had been carrying.
The farmers who had been so disturbed by this gruesome sight decided to search the well, and a sliced up human cadaver was discovered. It is thought that the murdered man was a smuggler who lost his life after a fight with some companions over some stolen goods.
Gunby Hall, England
The ghost of a murdered servant is said to haunt the pond and pathway of the grounds of Gunby Hall.
The story of his death varies, but it is believed he was killed and dumped in the pond after Sir William Massingbred, the owner of the house, found out about his daughter's affair with the servant.
The young man is said to walk the path beside the pond which has become known as Ghost Walk.
Another version of the story claims that both the daughter and the servant were killed, which would account for the images of a ghostly couple being seen along the path.
Marsden Grotto
The marsden Grotto pub, near which a gruesome incident occured in the 18th century. Threatened by a colleague, a smuggler (who using a cavern in the cliff as a base) he imprisoned the would be traitor in a tub suspended from the roof of the cavern, where he died. His wails can be heard to this day by some who venture down the cliff lift to visit the pub below.
The Busby Stoop.
The Busby Stoop Inn at Kirby Wiske a village near Thirsk takes its odd name from an 18th- century owner and his 'stoop' or tall chair. It is the chair that is haunted or rather cursed the disreputable Busby appears to have eked out his living by coin-clipping. Thieving and receiving stolen goods he was eventually sentenced to death for the murder of a female relative As he was dragged from his inn he swore that anyone who sat in his 'stoop' would die as violently and suddenly as he himself was about to do;
Simon Theaskston, whose brewery owned the pub until 1978 said the legend may be odd and vague, but it is a matter of record that in the last 200 years or so death has struck anyone who dared to sit in the chair within a very short time. 'they said that many who sat in the chair were dead within days! or even hours. Eventually the chair was moved out of harm's way.
It has to be said that many of the chairs victims of thc last few decades could be categorised as 'high risk' anyway. They included an RAF pilot (killed the following day). A motorist (who crashed the next day and died of his injuries), a motocyclist (killed shortly after leaving the pub), a holiday hitch-hiker (knocked down and killed two days later) and a local man in his late thirties (who died of a massive heart attack the following night). But the odds against all of them dying so soon after sitting in the Busby stoop must be high enough to suggest this was no mere coincidence.
Added 31-7-2005
Allow me to correct you on your blurb about Busby's Stoop. Actually the inn is not named after his chair.
The "stoop" referred to is the hangman's gibbet where Thomas Busby's remains were displayed after he was hanged. The stoop and gibbet stood where the inn now stands.
Love your site.
Minx McCloud
The Grenadier.
The Grenadier, in Belgravia's Old Barrack Yard, began life in the 18th century as an officers' mess for the Coldstream and Grenadier Guards. In the early 18th century a young subaltern, caught cheating at cards. was reputedly beaten so severely with horsewhips by his fellow officers that he died. Although documentary evidence for the incident is fragmentary there is good reason to believe that it did take place around 1820, and that the Duke of Wellington himself was involved in the subsequent cover-up.
There is no record of the month in which the manslaughter is supposed to have taken place but, according to reports going back at least to the 1880's, it is always in September that strange happenings occur. these have included an icy coldness in the cellar, the sensation of an invisible body bumping violently into bystanders, and a variety of noises. On one occasion in the early 1970's a barman was struck by an antique military helmet that hurtled from its place on the wall; Some years earlier the cellarman had been grabbed by a powerful unseen hand and pulled backwards down the cellar steps. Although admitting to its presence, the Grenadier management are reluctant to advertise their ghost, perhaps fearing that it will deter people from working there.
The Grenadier, Belgravia
I was head barman for 18 months (1982 – 1983), taking over from the renowned Tom Westwood who had been “Chief of Staff” since 1957 (white tunic, gold epaulettes et al).
Apart from hearing many of Tom’s anecdotes, I had my own experiences of “Cedric” the ‘ghost’ and was present when BBC’s Six O’clock show did a piece on London’s most haunted. In the aftermath of which, we were visited by many strange phenomena of the not-so-paranormal kind.
Your article did not mention the exorcism that took place in the early 20 century nor the silver crucifix nailed to a shallow, bricked up tunnel wall in the cellar. The tunnel was reputed to have linked directly to No1 London, the Duke of Wellington’s residence on Hyde Park corner, (prior to the construction of the underpass).
Breaking glass
On a busy winter’s night in 1982 at about 8:30pm, I had occasion to go down to the cellar to fetch some cigars. At he foot of the cellar steps, to the left, was a wooden ‘lock up’ about the size of a garden shed that served as the spirit and tobacco store. Built into a corner of the cellar, this structure comprised two wooden walls and two brick walls, one of which featured a bricked-up tunnel adorned with a silver crucifix; (reputed to have been placed there following an exorcism in the first half of the 20th century). On busy nights it was almost impossible to get a f*g break, so I would sometimes keep a cigarette in a glass ashtray in the lock up and sneak a couple of crafty drags when possible - as I did on this occasion. As if from nowhere, Bobby, the landlords’ friendly black cat appeared at my feet. This was unusual in itself as he wasn’t allowed out of their flat during opening hours, let alone allowed to roam the cellars. As I stood puffing quickly on my ciggy, several things happened in very rapid succession: The temperature plummeted, Bobby arched his back and sunk teeth and claws into my leg above the ankle and the ashtray – which was on a chest high shelf to my left – flew past my head and smashed with significant force, against the wall beside the bricked-up tunnel. I felt a bone-deep chill of fear that I have seldom experienced since and needless to say exited the cellar at the velocity of a Polaris Missile. At the top of the cellar steps, back in the warm ambience of the restaurant, I felt kind of silly – maybe I imagined it. As I stepped behind the bar my boss said “are you alright Greyam; you look like you’ve seen a ghost”!
The face in the window
Around November 1982, The Grenadier was featured on BBC TV’s ‘The Six O’clock Show’. The crew duly arrived to set up during the afternoon and the pub staff were primed to go about their duties as normal. The show was sent out ‘live’ so it was about 5:30pm and pitch dark outside. The BBC crew had set up some green lighting to lend some eerie atmospherics, all of which took place to the bemusement of our early evening customers. The event was also being recorded by some reporters from Grand Met’s own in-house magazine.
A couple of weeks later, we had a visit from the magazine’s photographer who brought in some ‘stills’ of the event. He showed us some shots he had taken from the restaurant entrance (right side as you look at the bar), taking in the front window and side door to Old Barrack Yard (left side). He pointed out a fuzzy image in one of the window panes that vaguely resembled a face. Cynically, it was pointed out that: a) there was a tree (and vines) outside the window and that this could be a trick of the light, projected by the large outside lantern; and b) although from inside, the height of the window pane in question is less than 6ft, those that know The Grenadier will be aware that from the ground outside in Wilton Row, the window height is more like 12 – 15 ft. The photographer had been equally cynical and had blown up and zoomed the photo, expecting the image to disperse into a bunch of leaves and light. To his astonishment (and ours) the face became even clearer than before; though still slightly vague. Once more, the photographer had zoomed in until the small window pane filled the 8” x 10” photograph and there, in all its glory, was the face of a man. It was a young man; sporting a dark handlebar moustache and wearing what appeared to be a fez-like hat. The face was at three quarters to the pane and appeared to be looking straight at the photographer. Of several shots taken from the same perspective, only one captured this doleful image.
Could this have been the face of the young subaltern flogged to death for cheating at cards centuries before?
Despite the many strange goings on at The Grenadier, I absolutely adored the place and have revisited it several times over the years. In my view it is a time warp, a mini stately home with connections to many, many famous people and events. It requires a very special kind of manger to act as a custodian of the traditions of the Grenadier. Sadly, I have never experienced the same level of service and enthusiasm from subsequent staff.
If anyone is interested in other remembrances / personal experiences regarding The Grenadier, I would be pleased to share more of mine.
Greyam Fox
The Boggart of Holmfirth which, like all the natives of Yorkshire, has a typically hard-edged sense of humour.
There was once a farmer in a little town near Huddersfield called Holmfirth, (the "Last of the Summer Wine" series on PBS is shot there), whose farm was plagued by an extremely mischievous Boggart, which was forever upsetting the milk-churns, breaking the dishes, scaring the children and servants, and tormenting the dogs and cats. In the end his wife threatened to leave home if her husband didn't do something about this unbearable state of affairs.
The farmer summoned the parish priest and the local wise-woman, but nothing had any effect; the boggart continued its pranks undismayed.
Finally, the farmer gave up in despair, sold the farm, and loaded all his belongings onto his largest cart to move to another village. At the top of the hill they stopped to look back for the last time at their old home, and a thin little voice from somewhere inside the mound of furniture said "Well, I hope there's more room in't next place than there was isn't last one."
Peter Wood
Happisburgh, England
One of the most hideous ghosts of all time haunted this Norfolk town in the
1800s, and was spotted by local farmers on many occasions.
This ghost appeared as a legless human torso, its head dangling down its back attached by a chord of flesh. It was seen floating from the sea to an ancient well, where it would put down the sack that it had been carrying.
The farmers who had been so disturbed by this gruesome sight decided to search the well, and a sliced up human cadaver was discovered. It is thought that the murdered man was a smuggler who lost his life after a fight with some companions over some stolen goods.
Gunby Hall, England
The ghost of a murdered servant is said to haunt the pond and pathway of the grounds of Gunby Hall.
The story of his death varies, but it is believed he was killed and dumped in the pond after Sir William Massingbred, the owner of the house, found out about his daughter's affair with the servant.
The young man is said to walk the path beside the pond which has become known as Ghost Walk.
Another version of the story claims that both the daughter and the servant were killed, which would account for the images of a ghostly couple being seen along the path.
Marsden Grotto
The marsden Grotto pub, near which a gruesome incident occured in the 18th century. Threatened by a colleague, a smuggler (who using a cavern in the cliff as a base) he imprisoned the would be traitor in a tub suspended from the roof of the cavern, where he died. His wails can be heard to this day by some who venture down the cliff lift to visit the pub below.
The Busby Stoop.
The Busby Stoop Inn at Kirby Wiske a village near Thirsk takes its odd name from an 18th- century owner and his 'stoop' or tall chair. It is the chair that is haunted or rather cursed the disreputable Busby appears to have eked out his living by coin-clipping. Thieving and receiving stolen goods he was eventually sentenced to death for the murder of a female relative As he was dragged from his inn he swore that anyone who sat in his 'stoop' would die as violently and suddenly as he himself was about to do;
Simon Theaskston, whose brewery owned the pub until 1978 said the legend may be odd and vague, but it is a matter of record that in the last 200 years or so death has struck anyone who dared to sit in the chair within a very short time. 'they said that many who sat in the chair were dead within days! or even hours. Eventually the chair was moved out of harm's way.
It has to be said that many of the chairs victims of thc last few decades could be categorised as 'high risk' anyway. They included an RAF pilot (killed the following day). A motorist (who crashed the next day and died of his injuries), a motocyclist (killed shortly after leaving the pub), a holiday hitch-hiker (knocked down and killed two days later) and a local man in his late thirties (who died of a massive heart attack the following night). But the odds against all of them dying so soon after sitting in the Busby stoop must be high enough to suggest this was no mere coincidence.
Added 31-7-2005
Allow me to correct you on your blurb about Busby's Stoop. Actually the inn is not named after his chair.
The "stoop" referred to is the hangman's gibbet where Thomas Busby's remains were displayed after he was hanged. The stoop and gibbet stood where the inn now stands.
Love your site.
Minx McCloud
The Grenadier.
The Grenadier, in Belgravia's Old Barrack Yard, began life in the 18th century as an officers' mess for the Coldstream and Grenadier Guards. In the early 18th century a young subaltern, caught cheating at cards. was reputedly beaten so severely with horsewhips by his fellow officers that he died. Although documentary evidence for the incident is fragmentary there is good reason to believe that it did take place around 1820, and that the Duke of Wellington himself was involved in the subsequent cover-up.
There is no record of the month in which the manslaughter is supposed to have taken place but, according to reports going back at least to the 1880's, it is always in September that strange happenings occur. these have included an icy coldness in the cellar, the sensation of an invisible body bumping violently into bystanders, and a variety of noises. On one occasion in the early 1970's a barman was struck by an antique military helmet that hurtled from its place on the wall; Some years earlier the cellarman had been grabbed by a powerful unseen hand and pulled backwards down the cellar steps. Although admitting to its presence, the Grenadier management are reluctant to advertise their ghost, perhaps fearing that it will deter people from working there.
The Grenadier, Belgravia
I was head barman for 18 months (1982 – 1983), taking over from the renowned Tom Westwood who had been “Chief of Staff” since 1957 (white tunic, gold epaulettes et al).
Apart from hearing many of Tom’s anecdotes, I had my own experiences of “Cedric” the ‘ghost’ and was present when BBC’s Six O’clock show did a piece on London’s most haunted. In the aftermath of which, we were visited by many strange phenomena of the not-so-paranormal kind.
Your article did not mention the exorcism that took place in the early 20 century nor the silver crucifix nailed to a shallow, bricked up tunnel wall in the cellar. The tunnel was reputed to have linked directly to No1 London, the Duke of Wellington’s residence on Hyde Park corner, (prior to the construction of the underpass).
Breaking glass
On a busy winter’s night in 1982 at about 8:30pm, I had occasion to go down to the cellar to fetch some cigars. At he foot of the cellar steps, to the left, was a wooden ‘lock up’ about the size of a garden shed that served as the spirit and tobacco store. Built into a corner of the cellar, this structure comprised two wooden walls and two brick walls, one of which featured a bricked-up tunnel adorned with a silver crucifix; (reputed to have been placed there following an exorcism in the first half of the 20th century). On busy nights it was almost impossible to get a f*g break, so I would sometimes keep a cigarette in a glass ashtray in the lock up and sneak a couple of crafty drags when possible - as I did on this occasion. As if from nowhere, Bobby, the landlords’ friendly black cat appeared at my feet. This was unusual in itself as he wasn’t allowed out of their flat during opening hours, let alone allowed to roam the cellars. As I stood puffing quickly on my ciggy, several things happened in very rapid succession: The temperature plummeted, Bobby arched his back and sunk teeth and claws into my leg above the ankle and the ashtray – which was on a chest high shelf to my left – flew past my head and smashed with significant force, against the wall beside the bricked-up tunnel. I felt a bone-deep chill of fear that I have seldom experienced since and needless to say exited the cellar at the velocity of a Polaris Missile. At the top of the cellar steps, back in the warm ambience of the restaurant, I felt kind of silly – maybe I imagined it. As I stepped behind the bar my boss said “are you alright Greyam; you look like you’ve seen a ghost”!
The face in the window
Around November 1982, The Grenadier was featured on BBC TV’s ‘The Six O’clock Show’. The crew duly arrived to set up during the afternoon and the pub staff were primed to go about their duties as normal. The show was sent out ‘live’ so it was about 5:30pm and pitch dark outside. The BBC crew had set up some green lighting to lend some eerie atmospherics, all of which took place to the bemusement of our early evening customers. The event was also being recorded by some reporters from Grand Met’s own in-house magazine.
A couple of weeks later, we had a visit from the magazine’s photographer who brought in some ‘stills’ of the event. He showed us some shots he had taken from the restaurant entrance (right side as you look at the bar), taking in the front window and side door to Old Barrack Yard (left side). He pointed out a fuzzy image in one of the window panes that vaguely resembled a face. Cynically, it was pointed out that: a) there was a tree (and vines) outside the window and that this could be a trick of the light, projected by the large outside lantern; and b) although from inside, the height of the window pane in question is less than 6ft, those that know The Grenadier will be aware that from the ground outside in Wilton Row, the window height is more like 12 – 15 ft. The photographer had been equally cynical and had blown up and zoomed the photo, expecting the image to disperse into a bunch of leaves and light. To his astonishment (and ours) the face became even clearer than before; though still slightly vague. Once more, the photographer had zoomed in until the small window pane filled the 8” x 10” photograph and there, in all its glory, was the face of a man. It was a young man; sporting a dark handlebar moustache and wearing what appeared to be a fez-like hat. The face was at three quarters to the pane and appeared to be looking straight at the photographer. Of several shots taken from the same perspective, only one captured this doleful image.
Could this have been the face of the young subaltern flogged to death for cheating at cards centuries before?
Despite the many strange goings on at The Grenadier, I absolutely adored the place and have revisited it several times over the years. In my view it is a time warp, a mini stately home with connections to many, many famous people and events. It requires a very special kind of manger to act as a custodian of the traditions of the Grenadier. Sadly, I have never experienced the same level of service and enthusiasm from subsequent staff.
If anyone is interested in other remembrances / personal experiences regarding The Grenadier, I would be pleased to share more of mine.
Greyam Fox