The Storyteller: Celebrating my brother's 60th birthday

The other week, I suggested that I would be consulting my copy of “Folklore Myths and Legends of Britain” during an upcoming family holiday to Dorset, as it contained a section, referencing locations that we visited many years ago on other holidays, as a child, when my interest in the subject was just taking root.

Well that event has now happened, as it was a celebration for my brother John’s 60th birthday...and what a fabulous time we had, and yes, we did get to visit several, allegedly haunted places, including the actual village we were staying in, called Dewlish, just outside of Dorchester...

I found this out, when I did something that I started doing when I was much younger, and finding myself in a new place...I bought the local ghost book. In it, it states that Dewlish is haunted by the ghost of a young girl called Betsy Caine, who took her own life, supposedly as the result of a love affair gone wrong. This was back in 1830, a time when suicides weren’t allowed a Christian burial...straightaway I was reminded of Kitty Jay on Dartmoor...but in this case, the girl’s father took her body, and buried it, in secret, in woodland on his farm. Soon afterwards, Betsy’s ghost started to be seen by locals, sitting on the gate, leading to the spot where her body lay hidden. They started to avoid that lane after dark.

Apparently, she can still be seen to this day, on occasion. Sadly, we didn’t have time to go and stake the area out, to see if she would appear for us. Maybe next time, as we are already talking about returning there next year, as this time was so enjoyable, and my mother turns 90 in April. I was also intrigued to learn that the, ominously named, Devil’s Brook, runs through the village. I’m sure there’s a tale to be dug up there too...

One of the places I insisted we go to, when I was younger, during one of our holidays in Weymouth, was Athelhampton House. The Reader’s Digest book whetted my appetite, with talk of various ghosts, drawn from its 500 years of history. These included a headless man, a Grey Lady, and a Black Monk, which, according to my research at the time, had been seen quite recently, by the current owner. This ghost was blamed on the Martyn family, who lived there between 1350 and 1595. They were devout Catholics, and were always encouraging itinerant priests to come and visit them.

However, the resident ghost, that really captured my imagination, is that of a monkey, a family pet, that got accidentally walled up in a priest hole, and its scratching, on the wooden panelling, to get out, is often heard to this day. As with all good folklore stories, a bit of digging can often unearth differing stories, and this one is no exception...

A monkey appears on the Martyn family crest, so when they built Athelhampton House, monkeys were incorporated into several designs, and motifs around the building, and this is why many were kept as pets, during their tenure of the property. One explanation of the haunting, relates to the last male heir of the family who died in 1595. As he lay on his deathbed, his pet monkey came to see him for one last time. As his master breathed his last, the distraught creature, let out an almighty scream, and fled from the room...never to be seen again. It was after this, that scratching started to be heard, behind the panelling in the Great Hall...

The other explanation is equally sad, and relates to a daughter of the house, who, having just been jilted by her lover, fled to her room, via the many secret passageways, and priest holes, that the house is full of, so as not to be seen by the rest of the household. Unbeknownst to her, in her grief, she failed to spot her pet monkey had followed her into the passageways, and she accidentally sealed him in...where he starved to death, hence the scratching to be let out. This phenomenon has actually been confirmed by a more recent owner, Robin Cooke MP, no less!

All this ghostly activity, along with the fact that one of my favourite Dr Who stories, featuring Tom Baker, with Sarah Jane, and his battle against the monstrous Krynoid plant creatures, was filmed there, ensured this was top of my list, to make a long overdue return to. On this occasion, we didn’t go inside, for I’d spotted that it was possible to enjoy a Sunday Carvery, in the Long Hall (a converted stable block), without paying the admission price, and what a good choice this proved to be...it was very yummy, and highly recommended if you ever find yourself in that part of Dorset. After lunch, we contented ourselves, like children at a sweetshop window, to gaze through the gates at the immaculate gardens, and the stunning facade of the house. Sadly no Krynoids, nor a TARDIS, were in evidence...

Practically every trip out that week, involved something of paranormal interest to me. On a visit to Dorchester, I went on the trail of the notorious hanging judge, Judge Jeffreys, who showed no mercy, especially to the unfortunate participants of the Monmouth Rebellion. Not for no reason, did the Bloody Assizes get their name, for most were hung, some having their heads put on the spikes of the railings around the local church, whilst the lucky ones got sold as slaves, and sent to the West Indies, when King James realised Jeffrey’s lack of compassion had gone too far.

It is said that many of his victims now haunt the building, now aptly named the Judge Jeffreys Restaurant, for it was here he stayed whilst handing out his brand of justice. For his own protection, from angry mobs, protesting against his heavy handedness, he had secret passageways constructed, to allow him to get to the nearby Antelope Inn, where he held his court, in secret, and it is here that he is said to haunt. No longer an inn, it’s now a shopping arcade, renamed Antelope Walk, but, on the day of my visit, he failed to reveal himself to me, skulking in and out of his tunnels.

On a couple of our excursions, we passed the imposing ruins of Corfe Castle, high up on the hill, above the village it gave its name to. Once we were heading to Poole, via the Sandbanks ferry, the other time we were on a steam train, on the way to Swanage. Sadly, on neither occasion, did we have time to stop there, but I’ve visited in the past, and hope to again in the future, for, of course, it’s haunted. Famously, by the Phantom Army of Purbeck, consisting of Roman legionnaires, who pound the track that runs below the castle, and, more poignantly, by the ghost of one Lady Bankes, who, valiantly, held on to the castle, during the English Civil War, in the name of her king.

When the defenders of the strategic landmark, began to run out of supplies, Lady Bankes was betrayed by the commander of her own garrison, who opened the gates to the enemy. She was removed, and relatively well treated, but her beloved home was destroyed by gunpowder, which is why it stands in ruins today. So, is it any wonder that she is often still seen roaming said ruins, mourning the loss of happier times?

There are a couple of other places, in the area, that I’d like to revisit, next time, with my investigators head on, including Bovington Tank Museum, which contains at least two haunted tanks that I’m aware of, and Clouds Hill, the former home of T E Lawrence, whose ghost rides the nearby lanes on his motorbike, recreating the notorious accident that killed him, which has forever been shrouded in controversy. Here’s to more adventures, next time!

As for my brother’s actual birthday, we celebrated, in style, with a wonderful meal at the local pub, just a few minutes’ walk from our sumptuous accommodation, and with a specially made cake. Happy 60th John!