|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:41:16 GMT -5
The Screaming Woods
Below Pluckley is a sizeable area of woodland officially named Dering Wood but also known as Smarden Woods. Another portion of the same wood is popularly called 'Fright Wood.' Both are part of the ancient Andredsweald: that stretch of woodland that once ran along almost the entire south east of England. These woods are a haven for wild animals - not least of all foxes and it is the sound of a vixen's scream that has caused many ghost hunters to rename it the Screaming Woods. Fright Wood is a derivative of Frith - an old English word meaning land that is of poor agricultural quality. There were farmers in the area with the name of Frith in the 1580's, and with Frith Farm nearby it is almost certain that the popularist name of Fright Wood is yet another attempt to give Pluckley yet more status as ghost central for England.
The Coach & Horses
Mention of a 'phantom' coach tends to conjure up impressions of the traditional stage coach drawn by a team of horses along darkened country lanes.
There are reports of a spectral carriage being seen travelling down Forge Hill towards Maltman's Hill, Smarden and along the same stretch of road in the opposite direction towards the Old Forge. Although a story once related by an elderly resident told of the tale made up by he and other schoolboys when the road at the junction of Forge Hill and The Street was cobbled. A culvert for rainwater ran along the wall from the Black Horse, and on dank autumn evenings water trickled off and ran across the cobbles, sounding just like the wheels of a small coach or gig. 'Here's the coach and horses coming' the boys whispered in the ears of girls - who ran squealing home! The coach has been seen travelling down through the village on several occasions and also on the other side of the village too. There have been apparent sightings of a coach journeying the old Roman road which runs close to the Pinnock stream as well as one on the other side of the village, crossing the Bethersden Roadnear to Pond House and driving off towards the Old Rectory. The witness to the last mentioned sighting described the coach he saw as a two wheeled carriage with only one horse in the shafts but somehow this particular mention of a coach seems to be one apart from the rest - all the other reports mention 'horses' in the plural so suggesting as least a four wheeled carriage. The horses have been described as - just horses, galloping horses, and even headless horses. One lady and her husband saw it in all its glory one October evening just after midnight on their way home after babysitting their granddaughter. Coming to the Pinnock Crossroads, they looked up towards the village to see what certainly looked like a travelling coach being pulled up the hill away from them, with light streaming from the windows.
The son of a local resident, was travelling through the back roads on his way home when the coach and pair passed in front of him, crossing the road. He hadn't been living in the village long and certainly hadn't paid any attention to the stories of ghosts. Half and hour later, his friend arrived saying, 'Guess what I've just seen! A coach being pulled by a couple of horses passed me!'
Sounds of a coach turning in the courtyard of a local country hotel have also been reported.
In 1997, someone travelling through Pluckley at about 7 pm in early November claimed that 'all of a sudden their car was filled with the sound of horses hooves on a cobbled surface.' At one time the main street down which they were travelling was cobbled. As it was also a few days after Halloween there is the possibility that an empty beer can, left at the side of the road, had been dislodged and rolled under the car.
It is also worth remarking that there are several residents that do drive a variety of horse drawn vehicles.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:42:33 GMT -5
The Colonel of Park Wood
Park Wood, as an actual wood, no longer exists - its trees having been grubbed out in 1965 to provide land for agriculture. The colonel apparently hung himself from the branches of one of the trees in the wood that, until its eventual levelling, provided a home for his restless spirit.
Nothing else is known of the colonel except that his ghost could often be seen marching briskly through the woods and that its appearance in no way caused distress.
There are no clues as to his earthly identity or to what, if any, were his links with Park Wood apart from it being the spot where his life ended. In the absence of more information one wonders how it was known he was a colonel - even if he paraded in full uniform an observer must have obtained a very close look at him to recognise the insignia of his rank.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:43:00 GMT -5
The Highwayman
There are a number of accounts of the ghost of the highwayman of Pluckley. There are no records as to who he was, where he came from and when he lived. It is possible that this is yet another tale made up to enhance the popular myth of Pluckley's many ghosts.
If he existed who killed him is another unknown - some say he was pursued and killed by his enemies, possibly villains like himself, but others state that he was 'run to earth' which would suggest his attackers were on the side of the law.
One of the popular versions says that: near Pluckley is an old common - not as extensive as Hampstead Heath or Heathrow (favourite haunts of highwaymen) but no doubt providing a fairly profitable living for gentlemen of the road. Through Hothfield common, on the road from Ashford to Maidstone, led a Toll road, so it was frequented by a reasonable amount of traffic and is generally accepted to have attracted various villains.
In the latter part of the 18th century, a local highwayman was cornered by the Bow Street Runners (early cops) and, trying to escape, was pursued down through Pluckley village. Taking a fork by the Blacksmith's Arms Inn and forge, he headed for the forest. At the crossroads stood an old hollow oak tree. The runners were out of sight. Leaping from his horse, our villain secreted himself inside the oak with not a moment to lose, and waited with bated breath for them to go past. Unfortunately he reckoned without his horse. Left to itself the animal, instead of cantering on into the woods, put its head down and started to graze. Allowing the others to continue, one Bow Street Runner remained behind. Inspecting the area, he noticed that one of the trees was hollow. Creeping up to it, he plunged his sword into a knothole, thereby piercing the highwayman through the heart. Another account tells not of the traditionally horse-mounted highwayman but of a sneaky footpad who would secrete himself in the hollow of the old tree awaiting the arrival of unfortunate unsuspecting victims. Allowing the traveller to pass by he would creep out from his hide and execute a surprise attack. Word of the scoundrel's practice reached a man about to journey the road past Frith Corner - a man who was no fool, had little fear and certainly no intention of falling victim to such a cowardly attack.
He approached the corner as though completely unaware of the lurking danger but when only a few feet from the tree he drew his sword, moved swiftly forward and thrust the blade deep in the hollow.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:43:25 GMT -5
The Miller
Directly to the west of The Street on the opposite side of the B2077 once stood a 19th century windmill. One of its tenants in the 1930's was a Richard Buss - thingyy Buss to the locals - whose name by common usage was given to a tree lined lane which provided one of the access routes to the mill.
During Buss' milling days its age began to tell and eventually it became structurally unsafe to operate. He had no choice but to close it down. In a totally dilapidated state the mill was still standing when, at the end of April 1939, a terrible thunderstorm broke over the village. In the midst of the storm lightening struck the old building and it quickly burned to the ground.
It was during the intervening years that stories grew up that the mill was haunted, aided no doubt by the habit of young master Buss of setting bird traps in the top of the mill. To keep larger birds away - and probably other interested small boys - he draped long white sheets below the traps. Thus the story was set of the haunted mill!
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:44:38 GMT -5
The Monk
A quarter of a mile down the hill from St Nicholas' Church stands Greystones, a pale-grey mansion dating back to the 1863. To link the house and the church poses no problem as for many years it was the official residence of the local curate and was called Rectory Cottage until it was renamed Greystones in 1924. Residents from the present day back to 1954 state they have not experienced anything in the way of 'ghostly manifestations.' From the dates mentioned it would therefore seem reasonable to surmise that the monk lived in and later haunted the house between the years 1863 to 1954.
But traditionally, the monk is tied to a Tudor Lady and this would put him back to the 16th century - a time when no building stood on that site. One story is that he was enamoured with the Lady of Rose Court, a Tudor house nearby. A more popular idea is that he was the confessor of that lady during the time when the Roman Catholic religion was banned, meeting in secret. It is likely that the monk, had he existed, would have come to a tragic end. Many Papist monks did when they came to England at that time. He has reputedly been seen at night as a shadowy figure reflected on walls in some of the newer homes along the path he and his lady may have trod.
All accounts of the haunting of Greystones identify the ghost as a 'monk' but just how that particular religious office has been recognised has not been explained. Had the spectre's attire been described it might have offered some guidance but in the absence of such a clue one is left to guesswork. It could be that no one mentioned his dress because no one ever has actually seen it or him. The Red Lady
Who she was, no one seems to know, but she is popularly believed to be the wife of one of the Derings, lords of the manor of Pluckley down the centuries. They were a rich and powerful family marrying with an eye to both financial and political advancement.
Several wives were short lived, producing large families. Of course, not all children survived into adulthood. Many died at birth. It is rumoured that one such child was born to our lady. It died, or was stillborn, and buried hastily, in an unmarked grave. Now this gives rise to all sorts of conjecture! Why not in the family crypt? It is large enough to take the coffin of a small child. Indeed there are several there. So, who was this unfortunate infant? How was he/she conceived? Who, indeed was his mother? A Dering wife - or a Dering daughter? The Dering archives are well documented and it seems strange that as such there is no record.
But popularly, her ghostly form wanders the churchyard at night, sobbing bitterly, and searching for the grave of her unacknowledged child. Why the Red Lady? Nobody seems to know. Could it be the colour of the gown she wears? The halo which surrounds her ghostly figure? Was it the colour of her hair? Perhaps if someone eventually does see her we will all know.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:45:47 GMT -5
The Schoolmaster
The year was about 1920 and the schoolmaster from Smarden made regular weekly trips to Pluckley to meet with Henry Turff, Pluckley school's headmaster. They met in the Black Horse, and over a few drinks they sat and discussed philosophy. Then, one summer, the Smarden teacher went missing. A couple of weeks later, miller Richard Buss taking a short cut home came across his body hanging from one of the bay laurel trees that grew just below the mill.
The trees have long been cut down. The school master's ghost is just another popular tale told to eager ghost hunters looking for a story - no one is recorded to have ever seen any such apparition.
The Screaming Man
It would now be impossible to pinpoint the exact spot where this unfortunate's life is believed to have been brought to its sudden and tragic end. He was a worker at the brickworks who fell to his untimely death into one of the clay-holes on the site. There are no reports of a visible ghost here - nor are there any reports of such a tragic accident, only the ghostly echoes of his last terrifying screams as he hurtled headlong into the workings - which are very similar to those bloodcurdling screams of a vixen echoing across the weald on a still night.
The Tudor Lady
Rose Court is a large old house on the Pluckley to Bethersden road. There are records to show that it has stood for 250 years, but the original deeds were lost in a fire and it is believed it was built more than 100 years earlier. It is thought to have been built as a home for the mistress of a son of one of the Lords Dering and it is this lady's ghost that haunts the house and its well-laid out gardens. The lady kept two dogs and at times the house echoes to her voice calling them. Her visits occur usually between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon - the period during which she died. She took her own life by drinking the juices of ivy and other poisonous berries. It is worth recording that the kennels of the East Kent Hunt were not too great a distance from Rose Court. At approximately 4 to 5pm the hounds were fed. The ensuing noise carried, at times quite clearly, as far at Rose Court. Since the hunt kennels have moved, reports of hearing her dogs have stopped.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:46:20 GMT -5
The Watercress Woman
Once an old gypsy woman scratched a meagre existence by selling the watercress she gathered from the Pinnock Stream. She would habitually break the monotony of her labours by taking time off to indulge in her two main pleasures in life - smoking and drinking. She smoked a pipe and drank gin from a bottle carried tucked away in the safety of her basket. Frequent spillage's, due to the shakiness of old age or just general sloppiness, rendered her shawl highly inflammable. So much so that when a spark fell from her pipe on to the fabric it immediately set alight. Literally, in a flash her clothes were a mass of flames that completely engulfed her body - moments later she was dead. Her ghostly image has gradually faded over the years and later witnesses report seeing no more than a misty figure seated on the bridge. The Pinnock Bridge is at a low part of the village and air, trapped between the woods to the south and the foot of the North Downs, frequently makes these lower areas more prone to sudden mists. Driving through one of these sudden patches, one can be forgiven for 'seeing' a little more than one would normally expect.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:47:46 GMT -5
The White Lady
No collection of Ghost Stories would be complete without a 'White Lady' and in Pluckley we have two of them. Or have we? Their stories are very similar, but they have been seen in two different settings, a mile apart! And who is our White Lady? The most popular theme is that she was another of the Dering Ladies; but it is also said that it is from the medieval period. Needless to say, there are no written records to back up either story.
The Dering family only came to Surrenden Dering, through careful marriages, in the early 1400's. The Lady appears both in the Dering Chapel of St Nicholas' Church, and at the Manor house - Surrenden Dering (usually in the library) Stories of both White Ladies tell that she was so beautiful that, when she died at a young age, her bereft husband had her body sealed in a succession of lead caskets before being placed in an oak coffin and lowered into the family crypt. And there she lies, clothed in a rich flowing gown with a glorious red rose at her breast. The lead caskets may have preserved her body, but her spirit is still free.
Free to appear in the Village Church and free to wander the passages of her old home. Between the wars Surrenden was rented out to the Court of St James' (the US Embassy in the UK) and a regular visitor there was Walter Winan, the big game hunter and horse owner.
Mr Winan became intrigued with the stories of the Lady's appearances and the effect they were having on the staff at that time and one Christmas Eve he stayed up to see the lady. Ensconced in the library and with his favourite hunting gun across his lap, he waited. The lady obliged, appearing suddenly before him. Swiftly Mr Winan took aim, but the shots passed through her completely, embedding in the panelled wall opposite - through which she vanished.
There is a strong tradition that a tunnel connects Surrenden with the church - in fact it is more than a tradition. In the organ-well there is a cupboard housing some artefacts; a door at the back leads to a, now bricked up, passage.
The Black Horse
Pluckley's original Black Horse was sited in a rather modest building amongst a nest of cottages to the west of the church. The premises which now bear the same name began life as a farmhouse surrounded its own moat (long since filled in but partly discernible in places) for many years, then it was the bailiff's house from which the Dering estate was managed. Licensees claim to suffer the annoyance and frustration of having items of property, mainly clothing, go mysteriously missing for long periods. Not always their own property, sometimes articles belonging to customers or members of staff. Despite rigorous searches the missing items elude discovery and then, when all hope of seeing them again has virtually gone, they suddenly reappear in locations in which their presence could not have gone unnoticed.
Some liken these incidents to the work of poltergeist but to lay the blame on the shoulders of a ghostly prankster would be more befitting. The atmosphere in the Black Horse is peaceful and benign and the activities of who or what-ever is responsible for the going and coming of these items present no more than an inconvenience to which the more frequent victims eventually become immune. It would be quite legitimate to regard the perpetrator as a 'ghost' but so far no efforts have been made to add this resident prankster to the village's spectral list and so give the pub 'haunted' status.
|
|
|
Post by Melissa Foxworthy on Dec 19, 2007 13:49:00 GMT -5
The Dering Arms
Standing at the approach to the village station, these premises were originally a hunting lodge. The owners share their home with the ghost of an old lady who seats herself at a table by the window through which she seemingly views the world outside. So clearly has she appeared that she could quite easily have been mistaken for a flesh and blood customer but for the peculiar bonnet and old-fashioned dress she wore - plus the fact that she vanished on the spot immediately her presence was commented on.
Although this lady has appeared enough times to be accepted as part of the furniture she has never been included in Pluckley's inventory of established ghosts.
Blacksmiths Arms
In the dim, but not so distant past, Pluckley had two forges. One near the main part of the village which served mostly the gentry and village tradesmen, and the other down the hill at the Thorne which catered for the rural community and general road traffic. It survived until just after the last war.
Situated as it was at the bottom of the long incline up onto the North Downs of England, this second forge became a convenient place to stop and attach additional teams of horses. It was almost a natural progression for an alehouse to be established, and The Blacksmith's Arms survived when the forge eventually became redundant. It was a popular meeting place for the increasing population of the hamlet Pluckley Thorne. In the field opposite, the sport of goal-running attracted all the young men of the parish every Saturday night when home matches were played. After the war, a small housing estate was built and a general stores was opened in the old forge area.
There is a tradition of a cavalier haunting the upstairs. There are no records as to who he may be, or why he may be there.
The Devil's Bush
How or why this story has grown up, no one knows. The tale is that if one dances three times round a certain bush (and presumably chants the right phrases) then the devil will appear. The bush can be found at Frith Corner and one assumes is one of many bordering either the wood or the fields in that area.
|
|