About the End of Jan, beginning of Feb time 1984. Myself and three workmates got talking about the supernatural and decided to spend a night in Borley. (I fully appreciate your comments on unwanted ghost hunters and I can assure you that we were quiet and damaged nothing). Anyway, to cut a long story short, by the time darkness had fully set in, although seeing nothing, we'd all lost our nerve and decided to go home. In the meantime though, we had been taking lots of pictures with the hope that some odd image might appear on them in print. Although I'm sceptical I have to admit that something did come up on one of mine. Have a look for yourself.
Quite honestly I don't know what it is, if it had appeared on any ordinary family shot at home I would have completely dismissed it and thrown it in the bin as a reject. It's only the location that makes me wonder. The thing is it's not anything recognizable. Perhaps, (as the two believers, and others since, have thought) a head with two eyes but, to me, no more than a blob with two holes, I certainly have never seen anyone who looks like that! It didn't half frighten Kevin, the one who's head is engulfed - as far as I know it didn't turn out to be a bad omen though. It is unusual inasmuch as it's completely circular and the holes are symmetrical to each other. On the other hand, there were patches of snow on the ground at the time and perhaps a piece could have blown onto the lens (although it's well focused considering it was taken on an S.L.R). A light reflection? All is possible. Unfortunately I only took the one in this position so I have no duplicate to compare it with, but I can say it wasn't there at the time, and there was nothing else unusual on any other pictures - mine or there's.
Yes I do still have the negative. . . it isn't a floor on the film and you have my word that it's no fake.
When my son Thomas, who's all but 4, saw my photograph appear on the official Borley site he was most excited. After all, it had been his acute interest in the supernatural that had led to me digging it out after 16 years in the first place. Upon seeing it up on-screen though, he became ever more demanding that I should take him to see the place for himself.
Nowadays I work as a self employed entertainer/photographer (www.greavesey.com) so I generally look after him while my girlfriend does the day job. I often take him out, but haunted houses aren't usually on the agenda (a zoo, airport or playground is more the norm). Then again he does have a genuine interest and Borley is only an hours drive away from where we live in East Essex. Besides, as a photographer I now have a super duper computerised Nikon F90 camera and I got to thinking that if my old Zenith EM could photograph a blob, then this piece of technical wizardry should be able to capture an entire spectral tea party. Thomas has one of those old Kodak instamatics that were popular in the seventies, a cutie one all in red, blue and yellow so with all things considered I decided to grant him his wish. I bought us a film each and on the morning of Monday 2nd October 2000 we both drove off on our new adventure.
We arrived in Borley at about 11.00 am and for the first time, Thomas saw the church that he'd heard so much about. He was awe-struck and could barely contain his excitement as we eagerly parked up and loaded our cameras. "OK," I said as I opened the car door. "Let's do it!"
What we must have looked like I don't know. Two intrepid but extremely amateur ghost hunters. One less than half the size of the other all tooled up with our cameras and gazing about in anticipation. Harry Price would have wept.
We wandered through the gate and into the church yard taking special care, as was my ruling, to be respectful and not make a nuisance of ourselves. Thomas was straight in there with his instamatic, clicking away at anything and everything while I took out my own cumbersome beast and looked around for a good spot where one might host a tea party. We peered round bushes and looked at the grave stones snapping away like a couple of Japanese tourists until the wind suddenly blew up and I felt a few drops of rain.
By this time we were more or less done with so I suggested that we went back to the car, but he was having none of it. "I haven't finished my film yet," he protested. "Well hurry up," I said and at that precise moment, I heard it. A sort of clomping noise over by where the gate was that sounded like, well, I hate to say it, but like galloping horses. For a moment, thoughts of the phantom horse and carriage so often seen during the days of the rectory came to mind but then I dismissed it. No, I thought!
But then the rain became a little harder, another gust of wind blew and there it was again, only this time, a little louder. I looked back at Thomas who was still finishing off his last few frames totally oblivious to my rising concerns. "Right," I said. "I really think it's time we left." Thankfully having decided it was now getting a little too wet even for his liking he agreed and we headed for the exit.
Yes, this did mean going towards the spot where the sounds had come from but I was positive it was nothing and in any case, bolting across the grave yard, leaping over the fence with child in arms and tearing off down the street making loud, involuntary noises would hardly be in keeping with my strict rules about not making a nuisance of ourselves.
The wind blew once more and again I heard the sound, but this time we were a lot closer. I scoured the patch of land where it had come from but there was absolutely nothing there and now, for the first time, the hairs on the back of my neck really did begin to rise.
My concern for Thomas is obvious, but I was also becoming increasingly
anxious about my own welfare when I returned home. My girlfriend (who can be
a little fiery) would get mad enough at me if I bought him back soaking wet,
but imagine the looming prospect of having to explain that, not only had he
been rained on, but I had also allowed us both to get run down by an
invisible horse and cart! She'd never trust me alone with him again.
All the while he just wandered along beside me, laughing to himself.
Another gust of wind, more galloping horses and now only a few yards in
front of us. Thoughts of preserving the local residence right to peace and
quiet began to dwindle but I promised myself that I wouldn't do anything
drastic unless he too became aware of the sounds and as yet, for some
reason, this hadn't happened. In fact, he was still laughing away to
himself.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"I'm laughing at all the conkers falling out of the trees," he
innocently replied. And suddenly I realised just what a terribly foolish
father I had been.
Every time the wind blew, dozens of them were falling from the horse chestnut trees above the gate, cascading to the ground and sounding for all the world like a couple of horses in full gallop. Thomas was finding the whole thing most amusing.
"When can we come back again?" He asked as I breathed a huge sigh of relief and regained my composure. I was pleased to see the whole episode had swept right over his head.
"Maybe next summer when it's not so windy," I
replied as we climbed back into the car. "I didn't get frightened, did you?"
"Me, huh, of course not......daddy never gets frightened."
So anyone who has heard the sound of galloping horses in the grave yard between September and October, there's your answer. Just for the record. This time unfortunately, there was nothing untoward on any of our pictures so although I'm very interested in this sort of thing, I still remain an annoying sceptic. To this day my Borley church photograph is the only ghostly encounter I've had that I can't easily explain away so if anyone has an answer please Email me and set my mind at ease.