I fear that ghosts are going the way of UFOs. The fact that we film everything that moves should have meant a plethora of sightings ripe for posting on yon YouTube.
But very little business has resulted. That is, there are plenty of films but nearly all are inclined to make one say: “There’s nothing there.” Or, worse still: “That’s a man in a sheet.”
Same with UFOs: “That’s just a light/reflection/secret military aircraft.”
I witter thus after a week in which the public prints have been awash with ghost stories. It’s always been a mystery to me as to why these things come in spates, but spates are assuredly in what they come.
First in spate was a spectral lodger at the Castle of Mey, hoose of the late Queen Mother. The ghost was, or even is, one Lady Fanny Sinclair, who killed herself after her love for a common ploughboy was forbidden.
The QM was well aware of the ghost and was often heard to say, “Poor Lady Fanny”.
It is, actually, a shame. Our understanding, or guess, is that such spectres are trapped between two worlds, ours – the rubbish one – and the hereafter, where you can eat oven chips all day long without getting fat. And your specs never go missing.
Another story making the headlines concerned a road in yonder Australia, where windscreen wipers suddenly stop working (not very impressive), radio volume suddenly soars (yeah, well maybe) or doors lock and unlock themselves (yikes).
Scarier still, though, is that two ghostly women, one older and one younger, might appear in your rear view mirror, trying to run you off the road. Hell’s bells, even ghosts are tailgating now.
The story goes that the older ghost is a Scottish nun who died on the road 50 years ago, while the younger was “slain” (it says here) there as a hitchhiker in the same period. The latter is said to be more traumatised than violent, but is still enough to give decent ratepayers the heebies and, in some cases, the jeebies.
Last year, one filmed incident in South Wales appeared to show a creepy face approaching a man and his mother-in-law, though in Ghostland this was reported as an innocent spectre being frightened by a mother-in-law.
Again, it could all be a trick of the light. Or some jiggerypokery with the portable telephone doing the filming. Once, I captured a terrifying image of a face on my phone.
Alas, the face turned out to be mine. I’d been pointing the device the wrong way.
The South Wales incident occurred in an area where people used to be hanged for this and that. The thesis is that, when one’s life is cut short, one tends to hang around – literally in this case – as a consequence of being too stupefied to move on to the next realm, the one with the healthy oven chips.
My own jury is out on this, and my feeling is that, as with UFOs, the ghosts are going to have to put or shut up.
When they see someone filming on a phone, they should breenge into the light brazenly and say, “Hi!” No use being all hazy. To be or not to be, that is the question for them.
