I had been working quite hard and so decided that I deserved a relaxing weekend break. I chose a lovely old hotel, called the Lygon Arms in the Cotswolds, a very beautiful part of the countryside in the UK.
We arrived on the Friday evening, and after a complimentary drink in a magnificent reception room we were shown upstairs to our room.
As the rather ancient porter opened the room door I was transfixed, there was a man standing by a roaring fire in the huge fireplace of the room. He was dressed in what appeared to be Jacobean type dress, the kind of clothing one might attach to the times of the English Civil Wars of Oliver Cromwell and Bonnie Prince Charlie.
The man looked straight at me and continued to drink from a large goblet in his hand. The furniture in the room was large and dark wood, and the floors wooden,
A huge dog that was lying on the floor got up and came towards me, and involuntarily I stepped back. As I did so the room suddenly changed before my eyes, the previous scene had completely vanished and I found myself standing inside the doorway of a very pleasant and comfortable hotel bedroom. There was a huge four-poster bed, and a lovely old dressing table with an enormous mirror. The floor was carpeted and the room led on to a pretty en-suite bathroom.
I looked at the porter who had put our bags down and was proceeding to leave. He looked quite unperturbed.
I glanced at my friend in the room, who also seemed fine.
Gosh, I have been overworking I thought. I was quite shaken and decided I needed a drink, so we went down for dinner, had a lovely meal and some good wine, and then returned to our room, where all was ‘normal’, and we slept well.
The next morning feeling very relaxed after bathing in the luxurious bath, I sat down in front of the big dressing table and began to put on my make in front of the mirror. I was just about to put on lipstick when suddenly there in the mirror I saw the Jacobean man again, just staring back at me.
I think my lipstick ended up as eyeliner, as I jumped up in shock. When I looked again at the mirror he was gone.
That evening getting ready for dinner, I was relaxing in the bath, sipping a glass of champagne, when suddenly the huge and very heavy bathroom door flew open and at the same time the bathroom window did the same. There was a howling gale coming through the room and it was freezing, but the cold felt to be more than just the chill of the wind. The door and window could never have blown open by themselves, they were much too heavy.
I was out of there. I dressed quickly and went down to the old dining room, where I found a member of staff.
I asked if they had ever had any complaints about ‘my room’. She looked concerned and said I could change rooms immediately, and took me out to the ancient porter, who upon hearing my query about the room, produced an old Bible, which had a label pasted on the front which said ‘George’s Ghost Bible’. He explained that he never went into that part of the house without carrying his Bible, as there were many strange and unexplained happenings that scared him.
He said the room was fine sometimes, but at other times seemed to take on a life of its own.
‘Too right’, I agreed.
We then went upstairs together, George with his Bible clutched in hand. We passed in the hallway some very old and large wooden baby cribs, which George explained sometimes for no reason, would start to rock to and fro savagely, although no seen hand was touching them.
That corridor then led into ‘my room’, which he said was haunted by the ghost of a Cavalier. I know I told him, I have seen him several times now, and I said he has seen me in various shades of dress and UNDRESS.
Poor George looked even more flustered.
I wanted to know more about the ghostly happenings so I decided to remain in the room with my rather saucy Cavalier for the rest of my stay, but I unfortunately did not see him again. The rest of my stay was calm and peaceful.
Perhaps the naughty Caviliar, like many men just liked the ‘chase’!
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