Today, I’d like to introduce you to a new member of the Weirdo crew, Tony! We’re privileged to be reading a personal story of his, never before shared outside of his close family and friends; one of a certain category of ghost; the recently deceased.
It’s not unusual to hear stories from the loved ones and friends of people who have recently passed. Stories vary but normally the person had appeared, in spectral form, to their loved one or friend, returning to offer comfort or relay a message.
It was in fact, the same type of ghost that featured in my first ever Weird Wiltshire blog, way back in the spring of 2020 when we were all locked away, wondering what was going in the world. It was of course the time of the first Covid lockdown and the story is about my friend and neighbour, Margaret. If you want to read it, here’s the link: https://weird-wiltshire.co.uk/2020/04/08/margarets-visitation/
Back to Tony’s story. It’s a typical visitation tale, and is recounted in a matter-of-fact way by Tony’s mum, as if it was nothing too unusual. I think that generation, those who lived through World War Two, were a real pragmatic bunch. They had been through a lot, so it took something special to shock them. Anyway, enough of my thoughts. Here is Tony’s first ghost story for Weird Wiltshire:
‘I can’t pretend that the early 1960s were a more spiritual time, but we were certainly willing to engage in talk about ghosts and their like, as a matter of course. Today, television leads the way on this subject with pseudo-science shows like ‘Most Haunted’, ‘Ghost hunters’ and ‘Paranormal Witness’, aggressively hunting for evidence of the deceased while using devices that to one extent or another, claim to allow ghosts to communicate with the living.
But I’m not intending to discuss those shows here, for whether or not any of them have ever actually managed to contact those in the afterlife or not. I simply can’t say. Mine however is a story of real happening. No words were shared, no ghost tracking devices used. But the person involved was to me (and to everyone who knew her), of the highest integrity and honesty; my mum.
Now, as I said, in the 1960s, people openly discussed the afterlife, ghosts and all manner of supernatural events and beliefs as if they were a normal part of every-day life. Afterall, the second world war had finished only 20 odd years earlier and many people had lost loved ones, friends and acquaintances to the ravages of the global war machine. The supernatural seemed, well, natural in those days, even though people were encouraged not to speak of the subject too much, so as to avoid opening a corridor between their realm and ours, through which anything might find its way.
So, from time-to-time a ghost story may crop up during evening drinks and friendly chats with friends. But this story was, as far as I know, only ever shared with a few very close and trusted neighbours. No one wanted to make those still living in the house to feel afraid or nervous about being there.
Now, in those days, money was short for almost everyone. We, like many other families had been forced to move to Swindon from London to find work. Many others came from Yorkshire, Wales and Ireland. In the main, we all got along pretty well and certainly everybody respected the privacy and dignity owed to the soon departing.
This story concerns a dying man. His name was Ron and he lived a few doors away from us on a council estate in Swindon. He had been ill for a long time and as children we were told to be quiet when playing in the immediate area of his house. He lived there with his wife and their children. Their door knocker had been muffled so as not to disturb him is his final, delicate weeks of life. But eventually and as expected, Ron passed away.
Ron’s wife was working to support the family as clearly Ron could no longer provide for them. Being in the early days of winter, my mum would go into the house before everyone got home to light the fire and ensure they had a warm home to come back to. These were the days when central heating was a thing of the future and most houses had only a single fireplace, located in the main living room. Nothing else. The fire was expected to heat the house, including the hot water for bathing, washing and just about everything else.
So my mum would go in, clean the grate, collect the ashes from the fireplace, and take them out into the garden where they were put before making the new fire ready. She would do this daily and I couldn’t believe that she would go in, by herself, just after a man had died in there. But she did.
One day I remember she came home and announced that she had just seen Ron. My reaction was palpable and my sister sat up to pay attention. I seem to remember that it was before my dad got home from work, but his reaction when he eventually heard, was nothing of particular note. I don’t think this was to spare our feelings, but simply an example of how ghosts were treated, in a rather blase’ way in those days.
But I wanted to know more and hear the story time and time again. Eventually I was told not to say any more about it, but I couldn’t help my curiosity and my shear fear of what had happed. So, she told me about it. She had turned the key in the front door and let herself in. She walked down the short hallway and through into the living room. There, sat in his chair was Ron. They looked at each other but without a word being said. My mum, rather than running out of the house, screaming, as I would have done, knelt done at the fireplace and cleaned it, as she had done so many times before. Ron sat there and watched her.
When the ashes had been collected in the ash can, she got up and carrying the ashes from the previous fire, made her way out to the back garden to dispose of them. All this while, Ron sat in his chair and watched.
Very soon and with an empty ash tray, mum returned to the living room. Ron was gone. Mum completed the rest of her duty, remade the fire and left the house. Neither she, nor as far as I know, anyone else ever saw Ron again. I guess that he was happy with the job she had done.
Through my ‘interrogation’, I found that Ron had appeared in his normal clothes and as he would have been in healthy life. His ghost had no transparency and nothing that would make you believe that he was anything other than a normal, healthy man sitting in his favourite chair.
After going on about her experience endlessly, I was told not to think about it anymore and that there was nothing else to tell. She told me that the dead won’t hurt me, it’s the living that do that.
I don’t know if this true story has given any readers the shivers, but as a young boy, I would never go in that house again and spent many terrified days and nights recounting the experience to myself.’
(Names have been changed to protect identity of those involved.)
Written by Tony Flowers
It sounds to me like Ron’s ghost was just checking in and trying, in a phantom-like way, to convey his gratefulness that Tony’s mum was there helping his family out through tough times.
This story reminded me that, it was in fact, the same type of ghost that featured in my first ever Weird Wiltshire blog, way back in the spring of 2020 when we were all locked away, wondering what was going in the world. It was of course the time of the first Covid lockdown and the story is about my friend and neighbour, Margaret. If you want to read it, here’s the link: https://weird-wiltshire.co.uk/2020/04/08/margarets-visitation/
Thank you so much to Tony for sharing this story. He’ll be returning soon to take us on a little trip out of Wiltshire, with his take on the famous and terrifying hauntings of Berkely Square in London.
Don’t forget; I’m always on the lookout for spooky and weird stories from Wiltshire and beyond. If you have a tale you would like to share I’d love to hear from you. Contact me here.
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