The Storyteller: When fate takes a hand

I love it when coincidences come together in such a big way, that you can’t fail to notice them.

I always take them as a sign that, at this precise moment, you are where fate wants you to be, and the events that have just occurred, were meant to happen, in the way they did, to give you a little nudge along your journey.

The other week, two evenings unfolded, to prove just this point...

The first, involved one of my planned Ghost Walks around Princetown. I had two people book in advance, and on the day itself, a father, accompanying his young daughter, booked as well.

This was for Daisy, who is a very keen 11-year-old, already with a great interest in the subject, something which I like to encourage. She has already joined me in Ashburton and Okehampton. Now dad, Ben, was bringing her to Princetown.

I left home, allowing plenty of time for the journey, as it’s one of the furthest distances I travel for walk purposes. As I reached the junction, where there’s the split heading towards Okehampton, traffic was at a standstill, and didn’t look like it was moving anytime soon, so, thinking I was being clever, I took the slip road off, intending to take the lanes out of Exeter, towards Moretonhampstead...completely forgetting it was the day of their carnival procession.

I was making good time, and was almost at the town, when, beside the road, I spotted a big banner, reminding me what I had forgotten. Around the next bend was a bus and a car, being held up by a marshal, refusing access, whilst the procession passed through the streets. The bus driver was giving the poor guy a hard time, as he wasn’t allowed to proceed in any direction, until the carnival was over.

In the end, as traffic was now queuing up behind us, he was forced to turn around, having just enough room at the junction to do so, and I did the same. Time was now against me, and, trawling through my knowledge of that area of the moor, I had to make a swift decision as to which direction to head in, finally plumping for Bovey Tracey, via the reservoirs in the Hennock area.

Thankfully, the narrow lanes weren’t very busy that time of the evening, allowing me to get to Bovey Tracey by 7.30pm...the time I was due in Princetown! It was very fortuitous (or fate), that Ben had booked that morning, for I had his phone number.

Pulling over, I rang him, to let him know I was on my way, but was going to be late, as I was literally having to start my journey across the moor again! My other guests were also there, so I asked him to pass on the message, hoping they would all wait for me...

I arrived in Princetown, 45 minutes later, to find them all sheltering under the canopy of the visitor centre. To add to my woes, it had rained for most of the journey there. Joining them under the shelter, I apologised profusely, explaining what had befallen me, and the fact it was now raining...but at least by now it was getting dark, which would actually enhance what was to come next.

Seeing Daisy again, gladdened my heart, for she was sporting a peaked cap, complete with a pair of goggles, badges, and other decorations, in an attempt to emulate my own exotic headgear. As they say, imitation is the greatest form of flattery, and I feel my purpose is being fulfilled with this young girl, as I help to inspire the next generation of ghost hunters and storytellers.

When we first met, she was already wearing a backpack, and wore her Paranormal Investigator’s badge with pride. She carried a notebook and pen, and wrote down every location I suggested she go visit with her friends, who were also all keen to explore spooky places, and all the books I recommended for further research.

When we met this time, she told me about all the different groups she had formed, including one called PIA...Paranormal Investigation Agency, and one whose name was made up of all the initials of her friends who were its members.

She also told me about a friend of hers, who lived in another part of the country, who she shared spooky stories and experiences with...not for them the computer and email...they write letters to each other, and Daisy looks forward to the replies. The art of pen pal writing is alive and well, and in the hands of 11-year-olds!

By the time I’d given my introduction, for the benefit of my new guests, it had stopped raining, so we set off to explore the village...locals call it a village as opposed to a town...taking in the church, and standing in front of the empty prison’s gates, still with all its lights blazing, before finishing up, back at the Plume of Feathers.

All the time we walked, Daisy was full of questions, and had plenty to share, including how she and her friends have found an abandoned car in the woods near where they live, and they make up stories about it; and the fact she thinks her house is haunted, because she and her mother once saw the shadow of a head and shoulders pass by outside one of their windows.

It could only have been her father out there, but he was in another part of the house. I feel very happy to think that Daisy is the future of paranormal investigation, and I take pride in the fact that I’ve done my bit to point her in the right direction.

Once we had finished our walk, it came on to rain again, and quite heavily on the journey home. If I had been on time, we would have gotten soaked during the earlier downpour, instead our window of dryness was just enough for our time together, so that was obviously meant to be, and I was obviously meant to meet Daisy again that night, even if only to inspire this article. I’ve a feeling our paths will cross again in the future...

The second interesting evening out, was a visit to Buckfastleigh. The town is on my hit list for a possible Ghost Walk, especially as it has the very haunted ruins of Holy Trinity Church, high above it, and tales from Buckfast Abbey, nearby. We recently had a new member join our spooky meetings, and attend one of my walks, who hails from Gibraltar, and is a trained medium, so he will fit into the group just nicely.

Now living in Buckfastleigh, I expressed to Adrian my desire to establish myself there for walking purposes, and what I was after, was a local venue, preferably a pub, where I could hold one of my free Evenings of Storytelling, during which I could coax some stories out of the locals. “Leave it with me!” he said, and before I knew it, he had made Sarah and I a dinner reservation at The Globe Inn, setting up an opportunity for me to have a chat with the landlady. 

The Saturday evening came along, and it straightaway got weird! For whilst I was ordering our food at the bar, in walks one of Sarah’s cousins, plus his father, who live in Kent, and another gentleman who turned out to be his uncle, who just so happens to own a property in the town, and they were staying there that weekend!

We had an unexpected catch up with them, and ate our meals together. During the course of the conversation, they told us they had been invited to a 60s night, at the old Valiant Soldier pub, just up the road, which had opened its doors for one night only, to celebrate the time it had closed for good, 60 years previously. The place is well haunted, I’ve investigated it before, so I thought it might be a good opportunity to include it in my plans for a walk. 

Having finished our delicious meals, Adrian joined us, to see how things were going, so I took my cue to have a word with the landlady, who I’d spotted having a break from kitchen duties, in the beer garden. The upshot of that conversation is, I now have my free Evening of Storytelling there on Monday 6th October at 7.30pm...all are welcome...mission accomplished!

I even walked away with a new story to research, concerning a certain African witch doctor, who lived up the road from the pub, and who had been accused of murdering his wife, by pushing her out a top floor window...further details will be gratefully received...

We left The Globe, and headed to The Valiant...en route, we bumped into a local gentleman who furnished me with the name of the lady I needed to speak to, regarding holding events there...where we were warmly welcomed, by locals wearing 60s gear, listening to 60s records, and serving 60s drinks.

We joined up with Sarah’s family again, and I made contact with Valerie, who expressed an interest in being the end destination for my walks, with the added attraction, of allowing my guests to explore a haunted old pub. The prospect of proper overnight investigations was also discussed, and could happen in the future...another great result, but the night wasn’t done with us yet...

No sooner had we settled ourselves in the dining area, when in walked another familiar face, who we hadn’t seen in years, so we had a good catch up with her and her new partner, before my good friend, Maia, turned up to join us as well...her presence we were expecting! 

They held a raffle, to which I offered a pair of tickets for one of my Ghost Walks as a prize, and, in return, we won a voucher for a family of four to enjoy a trip on the steam train, which we will pay forward to Sarah’s nephew and his family, as a treat! 

All in all, it was a wonderful evening, full of unexpected coincidences, and nice surprises, which made us feel this was meant to be. As we walked through the town, back to the car, Sarah and I discussed our future plans, which hopefully might involve a move to somewhere on Dartmoor, which I love so much, and where my business is largely based...so could Buckfastleigh be the place, as we felt so at home there that night? Watch this space...