How Can a Death in the Family bring about a New Beginning for those Left Behind?

Someone close to me asked me to write a blog on the remarkable, heart wrenching loss of her fiancé, whose name I will change along with hers to protect their privacy. ‘Are you sure?” I asked her, after all it is only a few weeks….
“I’m sure,” she confirmed bravely.
Sarah found Reggie in his home struggling for breath and called an ambulance. He had suffered a heart attack but was successfully resuscitated in hospital, albeit on life support. Reggie had emphysema as well as liver problems, on top of which he was being treated for a chest infection.

As regular followers of my blog you will know that I can correspond with spirit of all genres: This not only means with those who have died and left their physical bodies but also the guardian Angels, guides and personality of the still living person. The first thing I did, therefore, was tune into Reggie’s energy field. I asked to speak to his guardian Angel, … ‘Is there hope for Reggie’s survival?‘ The answer came back as ‘brain dead’ ~ but how could I convey this to Sarah, when we were so close? (Between heart attacks his brain had been starved of oxygen). I found a way of telling her gently that Reggie wished to leave the earth plane and not to be kept alive by machines, which she accepted in theory… but how can you give up hope when you are holding a loved one’s hand and willing them to LIVE? She said that she would say her goodbyes when she took her grandson to see him that afternoon. However, she went to Reggie’s house to feed his cat, who was sitting on a pile of his clothes, and as she shook them and hung them in his wardrobe she felt his presence (spirit can travel, regardless of whether the body is still ‘living’). Understandably, she begged him not to go…..When a person is ready to move into the light it is important to let them go!  Sarah told me that Reggie believed in all the work I do and I had it on good authority that he wished me to share their story… He appeared to me, beaming, and said ‘brilliant!’ when he realised this was going to happen, bless him!

Because he loves Sarah so much, how could he resist staying and fighting to recover, even if it meant he would need round to clock nursing, unable to speak or feed himself? At the same time, I battled with my own emotions, naturally wanting to send him healing light. I asked his guardian Angel what to do… and the answer was ‘where there is life there is hope’ so I continued to clear all the levels of his aura. This amounted to 675 rescued lost souls, who would otherwise have been left earthbound, stranded after the death of Reggie’s physical body: Souls drawn to him throughout his Lifetime, some on a like-attracts-like basis and now others during the latter part of his suffering who the Angels were gathering to ride the Love waves back to their spiritual Home: People who were on life support like him, who suffered and died from heart attacks, emphysema and liver problems  and indeed any lost souls still wandering the hospital wards.

The professionals in charge of Reggie’s care suspected that he had irreversible brain damage and after a scan explained gently to his family that it would be kinder to switch off the life support machines. Again, the words go in but the hope is stronger, and it was several days before Reggie left, relieved to be Going Home. The Light is a beautiful place. At Reggie’s funeral he showed himself to me, sitting casually on a wooden chair, wearing a light grey suit, hand on chin and listening to Sarah’s sad eulogy. She played their favourite song. There was not a dry eye in the building. Grief has to be worked through, and in a person’s own time. When I told Sophie that Reggie was still alive in the spiritual dimension, and that he would always love her, she naturally believed me. That grey suit he wore to his own funeral turned out to be the one she had picked out to wear in his coffin, which made her smile. And Reggie?  His soul lives on to Love another day, but this time in Eternity.

Rescue of Victims of ‘Honour Killings’

It was September 2020 when my niece sent me some photos of her family Christmas around the Tree in their home. It showed a group of white spiritual orbs, mainly guardian spirits, watching over the family. These guardian spirits, including my beloved sister from the other side, their dearest Mum, sent for 44 lost souls through this interaction with the family’s love: Family and friends who over the centuries had become trapped here on earth and were therefore ‘missing from home’. Just before I dowsed them safely on their way my television suddenly switched itself off! It was 10.30 pm: No doubt my sister acknowledging that the important chain from her Christmas photos, to her darling daughter noticing them and sending them to me for onward transmission, had worked!

It had been a busy night! Just prior to this I was folding up my granddaughters’ baby clothes, sorting some for charity, whilst watching a true drama about a brutal ‘Honour’ killing on television. When it finished I still had my head down, pre-occupied, when my Google device suddenly spoke and said ‘I cannot connect to you wi-fi’ so naturally I looked up. The beautiful face of the Indian girl, which was no doubt the tragic subject of the story, filled the screen and said ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Her gorgeous brown eyes were looking straight into mine so my second sense told me to pick up my dowser to check that she had gone home after her senseless death.

Sure enough, SHE and 20 more murdered girls who were brutally killed by relatives, their only crime being to fall in love with the wrong person, were released from their earthly chains and passed into the Light of Heaven. This is why I love my work so much! I’m divinely guided through supernatural happenings and well timed synchronicities such as these to help as many lost souls to reunite with their origin of birth as possible.

In fact, while I typed up this article my left foot and my belly tingled and I knew I was playing catch-up. In the 6 months or so since that last rescue 20 more such ‘honour killings’ hadn’t passed as they should, due to the horror, fear and downright unfairness of it all. God bless them All xx

S

Why hadn’t George Formby (1904 – 1961) gone home?

George Formby‘s lost soul appeared to me last week, wandering on a misty cobbled street. George was a singer-songwriter and comedian who became known to a worldwide audience through his films of the 1930s and 1940s.

“About time young lady!” he moaned, “I’ve been waiting long enough!”  What could he mean? Ironically, the penny dropped. On a recent amble along Cleethorpes’ Promenade with Mum we came across three gorgeous boy triplets being strapped into a mini fire engine by their proud parents and once they ‘dropped the penny into the slot’ we moved on, but not before I heard the mother ask ‘Is George strapped in properly?‘…Back home, a close relative was researching baby names and was looking under Kings…And naturally George came up again.  I also mentioned to her that my husband wanted our daughter, if she’d been a boy of course, to be named George but back in 1983 it had reminded me of an elderly gentleman wearing bicycle clips! ~  Oh how fashions change, as it is obviously a very popular boys’ name once again! In other words, George Formby’s spirit had become attracted to me on yet another like-attracts-like basis.

Back to that night, when the Law of Attraction had brought this genius of a British entertainer to my bedside, he grinned widely, stuck his nose skyward and took off into the light!  The best was yet to come as within seconds I saw him receiving a tumultuous welcome from hoards of fans on the other side ~ including, YES, including my own dear father who had passed only 6 months ago!  The feeling was of such overwhelming love that I could hardly contain it.  I overflowed with every emotion possible ~ amazement, gratitude, peace, total Oneness with the universe ~ It was almost too much to bear in its entirety….and imagine how I then felt when not only George started to play his ukulele but EVERYONE joined in playing and sang to ME!!! ~ Oh Boy! …

“I was leaning on a lamp post at the corner of the street when a certain little lady walked by…Oh me; oh MY…”  It was George’s way of thanking me for lighting the way home.  What was even more poignant was that when he was alive my Dad had asked me to find out the name of his guardian angel, who described him (my Dad) as a ‘lamp lighter’! ❤

It had been a while since I had glimpsed Heaven.  The whole crowd was floating on a white cloud of love, enveloped behind by a beautiful wild flower meadow.  It pulled at my own soul.  Imagine being dragged from your Home and back down to earth because there was so much work you had promised to do.  It sure was hard, especially as they sang this song to me as a Tribute.  I was so touched and grateful!  But then it was time to ask George a question.  He put down his Ukulele and pre-empting my question said ‘I was waiting for me medals!!…‘  I was about to ask why he stayed too long after his death (over 3 months, meaning the route home had become too faint to follow)

“What do you mean?” I asked...

“I thought they would give me more medals!”  That was it.  The curtain was closed and I was left to do some research on a man whose name was so familiar but all I knew was that he was a singer who played the ukulele and perhaps an actor?

Research taken from  http://georgeformby.org/biography/war-years/ now made sense of his words…

‘In all, he and Beryl (his wife) are estimated to have personally entertained over 3 million troops. He received a modest (and surely inadequate) OBE for his heroic efforts. Beryl, shockingly, received nothing…. his wartime work with Beryl, both with the troops abroad and civilians at home that should ensure his place as one of the greatest (and certainly the bravest) British entertainers of all time’

What an honour it was!

  

Photo from 1989 reveals trapped souls!

After my dear father’s unexpected death on 21st March 2015 my Mum came to live with us, along with shed loads of happy memories of over 60 years.  This afternoon, sitting in the sunshine, she handed me one particular photograph of her beloved husband posing outside The Smugglers’ Bar in 1989.  Naturally, she read aloud the writing above the pub door ~ and instantly I was connected to a large group of lost souls, forgotten in the midst of time:

 

The words above the door read: ‘Through these portals passed smugglers, wreckers, villains and murderers

but rest easy… t’was many years ago’  

How ironic that the victims of those Cornish smugglers, wreckers, villains and murders did not ‘rest easy’ themselves and rather like watching a film on fast forward I reached in to lift  25 of them one by one with my dowser and placed them safely on the other side.  Thanks Dad!! …and dearest Mum for handing me the photo she took 26 years ago 😀

Lost soul uses garden hose to attract attention!

I was looking through my pile of diaries, fodder for my various books on spiritual matters, when I came across an entry made on Sunday 18th June 2006, which I thought I would share with you all…Michael was enroute to our garage when he noticed water gushing from underneath the boiler room door. The tap to our garden hose is also housed here and I knew I had already turned it off twice that day, albeit bemused as I was sure I’d already done so after my gardening session. Now the penny suddenly dropped and I knew it was a lost soul trying to attract my attention.

“Hello, yes, I understand that you need help… Can you tell me your name?” I asked, a little taken aback by his unfriendly demeanour.

“Connor,” he replied shortly, annoyed at being held up. I could tell he was used to getting his own way.

“Where have you been hiding then?” I laughed, as you would try to diffuse the situation coming face to face with a burly stranger. He’d had every opportunity to ask more politely for help over the couple of days I’d been working in the garden.

“Relegated!” he yelled. (To the boiler room?) I knew immediately he was a football fan when his demeanour suddenly lifted and he declared…”Brazil, Ronaldo….Best shot ever!!” Staying too long after his death to see the outcome of a match had obviously been his downfall and he had become stuck with ‘life’ as a ghost, nobody to talk to, not even able to lift a beer can!

I later asked our daughter’s football following boyfriend who had won the last world cup and when. “Oh I know that one,” he declared, “It was Brazil in 2002, when we first met.” And no doubt it was Ronaldo who scored? This meant that Connor had been hanging around in his twilight world as a lost soul for at least four years since seeing that World Cup.

Sometimes I am permitted to speak with people after helping them safely to the other side and sure enough Connor now told me that he had been to Columbia on a “Spree”. He admitted that he had been ‘a football hooligan and troublemaker.’ (Once on the other side we look at our lives with new eyes) He apparently died in excruciating pain (enough to distract someone from following the light of their soul back home) from a heart attack at Southampton car docks. With complete honesty he described himself as ‘volatile and a thug out to cause trouble’ ~ so it followed that he had no qualms about turning on our garden tap full blast to attract my attention! Even though souls usually find me on a like attracts like basis, there are no football fans in our house, but we DO have Nottingham Forest at Trent Bridge, just down the road.

“It just took a little persuasion!” he laughed. What a good job Mikey happened to notice the water pouring from underneath the boiler room. If a ghost can’t lift a beer can, I hear you ask, how can he turn on a tap? You may have heard of telekinesis, using the power of thought to move objects. Life is certainly never boring in my line of work! 😀

#Do spirits have a smell?

Do spirits have a smell? I hadn’t seen my friends in months and as I ‘just happened’ to be passing their house I rang their doorbell. Sarah invited me in with a smile and ushered me into their kitchen, where her husband Dave sat forlornly with his newspaper.

“What’s happened?” I asked, noticing his bandaged foot and the crutch leaning against the wall.
“I had an accident at work and badly twisted my foot…” he laughed, attempting joviality.

Sarah offered me a cup of tea but I declined saying I couldn’t stay but just had an urge to pop by and say hello. Dave continued to tell me what a terrible week he had had. Not only had he damaged his foot but his car had suddenly developed problems and his father had died.

“Oh no…I’m so sorry….” I sympathised.
“A neighbour found him in his back garden…” he started to explain, but I was distracted by someone standing directly behind me, unseen or felt by my friends. “Nobody knows how long he had lain there…” Dave continued, bowing his head. “The neighbour called the police who had to break in.”

Neither of my friends know what I do for a day job and would never understand so I didn’t explain that I felt the presence of Dave’s father, whose spirit still hovered around his family, unable to come to terms with what had happened. Understandably, Dave felt guilty for not checking on his father more frequently, as he had only lived locally. I gave them both hugs and there was nothing more I could say to make them feel better, only that I was sure things could only improve.

I intended to tune in to their house when I arrived home and offer Dave’s father’s ghost some assistance to leave but was not prepared for what happened next. I drove round the corner to our home and let myself in at the front door, just as my husband ran down the stairs to greet me. Before I had time to remove my coat and put down my keys he screwed up his nose and cupped his mouth in horror:

“Oh my goodness Jane…What on earth is that disgusting smell?”

In an instance I realised what had happened. Rather than wait for me to help, Dave’s father’s spirit had followed me the five minutes home (although there was no smell in the car) and the revolting and unmistakable stench that now permeated the hall was that of his physical corpse, which had lain in the outdoors through three days and nights and started to decompose.

“Don’t worry…I know who it is…” I reassured him. He was quite used to me bringing home waifs and strays, but they did not usually come with a smell attached. As you can imagine he was quite shocked! This gentleman was in no mood for a chat and jumped aboard the love train without hesitation. My dowser leapt into the air the second I connected with his spirit and spun in such heavy pulling rotations that I could barely hold on…Eventually he broke from the physically binding mentality of his awful death circumstance and was carried to his final resting place in the Light. My dowser stopped dead, quivered and then swung back and forth in confirmation of his safe arrival. Immediately, the nauseating smell that had accompanied his physical corpse completely disappeared, so that not the merest hint of it remained.

Angel of Light

As I do, I checked minutes later to discover that Mr Smith was already undergoing counselling on the other side (time as we know it does not exist in the spirit world) due to his ‘abominable’ death experience. A satisfying few minute’s work left me with a smile in my heart as I acknowledged this man’s gratitude that his soul now lived on! 😀 I also thanked my spirit helper angels for gently guiding me to stop off at my friends’ house that day.

What was the ghost of a football supporter doing on our roof?!

A thumping sound penetrated my deep sleep at 4.45 am and I shook myself awake to cock my ear. It appeared to be coming from above, then there was a scrabbling noise on our roof ~ too heavy for a bird or squirrel…
“Can you hear that?” I asked my stirring husband … and we listened, fascinated, to hear a rhythmic thump thump, a short pause then another thump thump thump. As it continued in this vein, I leaned over to pick up my dowser from the side locker ~ never far from my side! In a flash, I’d hooked on to an obviously impatient soul (who couldn’t wait ’til morning!) and passed him safely into the light of heaven.

Come morning, I asked my helper angels who the mystery man had been ~ and the answer, amusingly, was ‘An Arsenal football supporter’….Suddenly it all made sense, as spirits are drawn here for onward transmission in many ways, including on a like-attracts-like basis. No-one in the family, however, is a follower of football, let alone an Arsenal fan, but only the day before Mikey and I had been strolling in a country park enjoying the sunshine when a stray football rolled towards us. Happy, obliging chappy that he is, Michael swiped at it with his right foot, causing it to rebound at 45 degrees (:D) ~ straight into the backs of a group of the footballer’s friends, huddled on the grass! They turned round in amusement and Mikey apologised politely, laughing off his embarrassing attempt at kicking a ball in a straight line…

“Oops!…Sorry!” he cringed, “Manchester United wouldn’t sign me up would they?!”

Quick as a flash, the footballer shouted back….

“NO, but Arsenal would!”

Hence the Arsenal fan stuck in the turnstile of the enormous stadium between the physical world and the happily-ever-Afterlife, impatient for the Gates to open!

Stuck between the physical and the happily-ever-Afterlife ❤

Mischievous Ghost traps little girl in her grandma’s Attic!

‘Mischievous Ghost traps little girl in her grandma’s Attic!’ Can you imagine what the papers would say if they got hold of some of the stories I have to share with you, my regular readers? 😀 A lady from the outskirts of Nottingham phoned asking for my help. She had been given my number by a friend, who had heard of their family plight from the lady’s workman husband.

“All sorts of goings-on happen in our house,” she explained, “things being moved about, strange bangs and noises at all times of the day, but I am not scared…” However, when it came to the safety of her grandchildren, she decided it was time to take action. “My 3 year old granddaughter was playing when I heard her screaming for help from the attic. It wasn’t til I shouted up that the door suddenly sprung open…and when I got to her she was telling someone ‘get OFF Emma…get OFF!’ (To a so-called ‘imaginary friend’!)

The lady went on to say that her other grandchild, also aged 3, often visits and is as good as gold. Both grandchildren are well behaved and know not to touch her ornaments on the windowsill, but the day before her daughter had ticked off her little boy for breaking/moving one of them. The caller said it was obviously not him and decided to tell her daughter about the other crazy things happening…”I’ve been scratched several times,” she said. “Only yesterday I was bent down getting something from the kitchen cupboard when I felt a searing pain on my back, and when my daughter lifted my jumper she said there was a long scratch mark, which had actually drawn blood.”

The lady gave me her address and I tuned in long distance to investigate. I visualised the house room by room, starting at the kitchen and after removing a lot of physical energy with my dowser I found 8 lost souls were eager to leave, so fast that I couldn’t see any of them in detail, just an impression of a mop, rolled up sleeves and old fashioned long white ‘skivvy’ clothes. ‘Was it one of these souls who scratched her?’ I asked my guides. The answer came back as ‘Vanity’ and ‘Jealous!’ In the main hall of the house I found 10 more lost souls, mostly children of a bygone rural age, one of them being called ‘Emma’, who was described as ‘a bit of an imp’ It was she who had been playing with the 3 year old granddaughter and prevented her from leaving the attic. I asked for more details and was told she had lived in the 17th Century and had died of inflammation of the throat, causing her to choke. She had lived in a thatched cottage that once stood on the grounds of the 1970’s built Estate. The ornaments on the window sill had been played with by the curious band of child ghosts.

I moved on to see the two main rooms in the house and suddenly heard “Open window! Open window…Fire!!” I could see tiny little leaded windows from the inside of a thatched cottage, but there were no more souls to help ~ they must have been in the group of 18 already moved on. On the landing under the attic I heard someone say ‘Burns night. Get out!’ (Suggestion of a fire again) and another 13 poured through time out of the attic, including a man in an old fashioned sailor’s uniform. I was told these lost souls were connected to items stored in the attic (like attracts like energy and they would have been connected to the owners of the objects or their history).

In one bedroom I got another visual of a thatch , in another I saw the spirit of a woman rocking a baby in a wooden cradle. I asked my guides if the baby was at rest and she was (‘Yes, she died long ago’), but not the lady who mourned for her. Her name was Fanny and I asked whether she would like help to go the light. At that moment a voice called her from the other side. “Your chance to ESCAPE Fanny!” then someone else called (quite spookily, although I am quite used to these things!) “Nor….man…..Nor….man”. Fanny looked up and her spirit was sucked up in that instant, along with 21 others . I understand that she was ‘the Matriarch’ and was jealous of the lady of the 20th Century house. The one who had scratched her and drawn blood. Her own child (grown to a toddler) had drowned ‘in the babbling brook, now a river’. Finally, I checked two other bedrooms and again glimpsed straw bedding of a previous century but now ‘not a soul is stirring,’ confirmed my guides, ‘not even a mouse’

After a total of 52 souls rescued through history I checked the lady’s two little grandchildren were ok and asked that the house now be filled with peace and light: another day’s satisfying work! ❤

A Different way of Channelling!

Enroute from Cornwall yesterday, I drove through a cobweb of energy that set my face a tingle, but as I am banned from dowsing at the wheel (understandably!) my ever helpful hubby offered to take my left hand AND my dowser in HIS left hand while I kept my right hand on the steering wheel….We were driving on a straight road with no traffic in front or behind us….and had just driven through 4 hours of thick fog patches. ‘Follow that fog light!’ came the cry from a band of ghostly presences, some of whom had lost their lives in such weather conditions…

An occasional dowser in his own right, Mikey was amazed to find his energy boosted by mine and after a few attempts at controlling the spin and velocity of the dowser TOGETHER we hooked on to the lost souls as I talked them through and we released them into the light. I could see and hear the little girl who was last in the queue but unable to follow the rest across the vortex of light. She cried out for her Mum, still caught in the moment of her death on the motorway. Keeping my eye on the road, I projected her an image of a slide in a playground and showed myself leading her encouragingly up the steps to the top…calming her down and taking her mind from her emotional response to her sudden death. To my delight, I saw her grandma reach out across the dimension between heaven and earth and take her hand, now able to lift her little granddaughter from the fog of being earthbound. The Joy, oh the Joy!!!

Throughout, my left ear (the one nearest my darling hubby), felt like a megaphone ~ like one of those white paper cones a vet puts around a doggie or cat’s collar to prevent them scratching! ~ Quite a strange and almost painful experience, but well worth it to combine our spiritual resources and our unconditional love to help the lost souls be reunited with their delighted families on the other side! The fog had lifted, the sun shone, and the energy of the northbound carriageway of the M5 motorway is a little bit lighter now! 😀

Vortex of Light

The alchemy of love

Regular readers of my spirit rescue blogs will know that I transmute earthbound spirits through unconditional love, but there is a certain ‘magic’ involved in my missions. Last night my cell phone rang its ’emergency help line’ ring tone (see blog of 8/11/2013 re Heavenly Angels Calling!) and simultaneously Sam the (psychic) dog jumped up from his place of slumber on the couch beside me and stood to attention in front of me, ears pricked high in anticipation, dark brown eyes wide with expectation.

Husband Mike shot me a knowing look and muted the television in respect while I picked up my dowser and moved one, then two then eventually thirty eight lost souls, now transmuted to the Light of heaven. Sam still stood gazing at me. It was now time to dowse HIM for attachments and sure enough another thirty eight earthbound animal souls were released from his aura, one by one. His response was to shake himself, as though he had emerged from a bathtub, and stare intently at the door. Experience had taught him that some more visitors were likely…but our mission had been accomplished.

As I stooped to retrieve the tapestry I had been working on, I noticed a small box tucked out of my previous line of sight behind the couch. ‘What’s this?‘ I asked Mike, who had not seen it before either. Written on the front were the words ‘100 POSTCARDS OF OUR PAST’ from ENGLISH HERITAGE. Our son, a history buff, had obviously left them by mistake on a previous visit. From an archive of more than 12 million documents preserved by English Heritage were images of late nineteenth century to late ’60’s photographs of architecture and social history.
Through these evocative images of our past my helper Angels had trawled time to scoop lost souls ~ both human and animal ~ into the net of love, for onward transmission to the light of their origin.

Bedlam as the angels help calm a demented man threatening to skin

I awoke from a queer dream to hear Sammy the dog whimpering and going on, so let him into the adjoining room of our holiday cottage (dogs not allowed in bedrooms) and settled him, at the same time checking him for unearthly attachments (he is a very sensitive dog). Sure enough, there were 10 animal spirits stuck to him (ie those animals who had died and not moved on to the spiritual plane and were attracted to him because of his fear of the wind and noises outside.) After releasing and moving them on I crawled back to bed, but checked both my sleeping husband and myself in case we had been ‘infected’. Strangely enough, we each had 12 earthbound (human) spirits stuck in our own energy fields, now removed via my flying dowser. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned on my side.

Immediately I closed my eyes I saw a fearsome man’s face snarling at me and leapt up, my heart beating frantically. Was I still dreaming? I closed my eyes once more and there he was again, a demented man holding aloft a large knife and threatening to ‘skin your dog alive’!

‘No! No you don’t….’ I ordered him (and Sammy was whimpering again from next door). I jumped back up in my bed and grabbed my dowser (an aid to ‘catching’ lost souls). The response was frantic, likened to trying to reel in a huge fighting shark, so I stopped to regain my equilibrium. I tried again, but he was too entrenched in madness for me to deal with alone. It had been a while since I needed the help of the Angelic Brigade. I centred myself and visualised the still snarling man being surrounded by pure love and light ~ and not only were his earthly chains cut but those of another 23 ~ in-mates of the place called Bedlam, a Lunatic Asylum which really existed in London 700 years ago. After sinking back into a deep sleep I awoke again, this time with palpitations. Nothing that needed medical treatment, but tons of emotional stress dropped on my physical self whilst ushering such lost, helpless, emotionally stressed souls through to the pearly gates and paradise. All it took was a minute or so’s whirling of my dowser to lift this stress from my heart, returning it to a normal rhythm ~ just like that!

All became clear when I recalled the previous evening’s revelry. Whilst my daughter, her friend and I laughed raucously over a board game, my husband and her friend’s boyfriend were distracted by a Time Team television programme in the background, about Bedlam. I merely caught eye of some drawings of ‘treatments’ metered out to ‘mad people’ to ‘shake the madness out of them’. This had obviously been enough for me to reach out to those ghosts not at rest and therefore draw them, albeit unconsciously, into my energy field. And there was me, thinking 2014 was going to be a quiet one!

German U-Boat Kapitan lifted from the seabed after 68 years

Mike was watching The Battle of the Atlantic on Sunday last, with Jules Holland talking about German casualties from WWI and the finding of submarine wrecks on the seabed. Once again, my cheeks sizzled with the electric current along which lost souls travel and 12 of them arrived in my safe house for onward transmission via the angels.

“We have suffered in silence for so long ~ Thank you!” a spokesperson said gratefully. (Thank you Jules Holland and everyone involved in the conception and making of the programme too!)

A little later on in the programme the focus was on one particular German U boat, identified as U1014. It was destroyed while under water in 1945 and all 48 men on board were killed by the depth charge….most younger than 22…so sad. Just one of these men remained stuck, unable to come to terms with what had happened to his men. He simply called himself the Kapitan. He was very young, and very good looking. He saluted as he moved over to join his comrades, but it was not the salute of a Nazi, rather a salute of Gratitude. Husband Mike was excited that we had the number of the U-boat as he could find out this young Kapitan’s name and details. Sure enough, it was Wolfgang Glaser who was the ‘Oberleutnant zur See’ of that submarine (and who had touched my heart and my soul so strongly)…He was just 25 years old, and had commanded for less than 3 weeks. The year before, the sub had rammed her sister boat U1015 in the Baltic Sea, which sank, costing the lives of 36 ~ Is it any wonder that this young man could not rest in peace?

To put all this into perspective though, 36,000 merchant seamen, 30,000 German submariners and 37,000 Allied sailors lost their lives in WW2.
I have just asked whether any of these men are still lost and just 9 needed a helping hand…and 7 from The Lusitania.

The majority of us pass safely and smoothly at the end of our physical lifetimes on earth ~ onto bigger and better things, of course!

Heavenly bells from mobile mean ‘Angels calling’!…

Last Saturday, Mikey and I had a cosy night in and watched Downton Abbey (Brilliant!), then I took grand-doggie Alfie out into the dark garden to pay a call. Suddenly a loud ring emanated from inside ~ not a ring tone I recognised as our house phone or either of our mobiles…Sure enough, the loud ringing WAS coming from my mobile, but the screen didn’t register a call coming in, so there was no way Michael (still inside) could answer it.

“Is it an alarm of some sort?…” I asked my bemused husband.

“Siren!” came the answer from my helper angels…Electricity is a conductor of spirit energy and this was yet another ingenious way to alert me to those who had not been automatically redirected to the Bus Stop for Lost Souls I have set up in the garden (the subject of a future post). I took my dowser and moved over 50 individual lost souls under the general heading of ‘South Africa’. Immediately I recalled that the head butler (Carson) in the Downton Abbey episode, just viewed, made a typical racist comment of the era when asking a black jazz singer if he had ever been to South Africa. This is the magic of the mindwaves! By merely hearing those words I sent out a message to any lost souls connected to them to come here for shelter and onward transmission to the Light…..The old fashioned bell ring tone emanating from my mobile stopped the moment the souls were safely Home!

Two days later, more magic was afoot…I heard the emergency bell ringing again from my mobile, but ~ at the same time! ~ my usual melodious ring tone alerted me to an earthly real-time incoming call! They were both ringing at the same time, which was incredible! I swiped to speak to my client asking to book an appointment for a reiki and clearing session….And the angelic tone was obviously put on hold as I heard a beep beep engaged tone throughout out conversation. “Can you hear it your end?” I asked my client, but she could not. As soon as we’d finished chatting and she hung up, the loud bell siren once more called out from my mobile ~ and once more nothing but the usual screen saver showed and so there was no physical way of answering it. I took my dowser and moved 75 lost souls ~ who had come from the client who had booked a session!!!! Amazingly, they’d been transmuted via my mobile for a quickie onward transmission to the Light ~ probably because my next available appointment was not until the following week …and obviously they could not wait that long! 😀

Drunken ghost in a charity shop!

The following story of some years ago may not have been seen by my regular readers as it is under my other (underused, due to time limitations!) Blog The Daily Ghost ~ so am sharing it here and hope you enjoy it!

Just returned from a fortnight’s well earned ‘rest’ in Cornwall with my parents but the usual ghostly shinanigans made most days just like any other days and weeks! Just to pass on some of the lighter moments… Mum serves in the Marazion charity shop once a week so I accompanied her on Thursday 13th, tucking myself behind the tiny counter of the tiny shop where mum and I shared a stool – “You have it….no you have it!” Ten minutes into her stint a loud crash caused every set of eyeballs to hone in on two large cups and saucers which splayed noisily to the floor (without breaking!) and the lady shopper who had her generous bottom bent towards the table gasped

“I was nowhere near it… How did that happen?”

“Don’t worry… Jane will sort it!” trilled my mum, not realising I had caught sight of the culprit – An apparition who had wandered into the shop after mingling innocently with the throngs of holidaymakers buzzing around this popular seaside town. I spoke telepathically to the ghost of the stocky man in the flat cap, who wasn’t at all concerned as I retrieved the crockery and returned it to its neat pile on the table.

“Can I help you Sir?” was the only thing I could think of at the time.

“Albert Horace Wentworth at your service ma’am….I was only tuchin’ (Cornish accent)” He winked cheekily in the direction of the lady with the shapely figure and made to leave in a hurry, so I called after him. (Telepathically, so as not to blow my own cover to the holidaymakers of course!)

“Do you realise I can see you?”

“Gross misjustice of conduct!” he cried, which made me laugh as he was obviously inebriated! He looked me up and down through straggly eyebrows and hazy eyeballs and I read his thoughts as he called me “a mere flippety-gibbit” and shuffled out of the shop again. I resisted grabbing him by his braces and had to let him go.

Once home, I tuned in to the merry ghost via two of my helpful spirit guides, who each took a supporting arm as I offered him help him to leave the earth plane, but he vigorously declined, shaking off the angels and telling us to “get lost‘” Ironically, this was what had happened to himself when he was waylaid enroute home to the other side, but as he was obviously happy in this state I did something I don’t usually do and didn’t persuade him any different.

25th August 2009

Drove back to Nottingham via my neice’s in Dorset, to drop off some Christening presents for her cute 8 month old daughter Lily – a round trip of almost 400 miles in 10 1/2 hours, also stopping off to photograph my favourite Stone Henge on Salisbury Plain and walk past the house in Tidworth where we had lived 25 years previously – such memories came flooding in! Also flooding in were large batches of lost souls from the areas and the roads and motorways not previously dowsed for earthbound souls. As I did my best to ignore the stinging cheekbones which indicate many souls clammering for attention, we were intermittently reminded by the bleeping on the car’s dashboard and the red warning light which indicated our seatbelts were not done up (which we tested and retested by pulling them in and out, knowing we were fully strapped in) …Spirit obviously has a sense of humour as, when I picked up my dowser to open the high speed portal of light to transport them through, I saw the joke….”Fasten your seatbelts please!”

Towards the end of our mammoth trip, my right ear throbbed with a sudden megaphone-type energy as someone said “pin your ears back. Look at the time….” and then left just as suddenly. I glanced at the car clock and noted it: 7.13 pm. What could this mean? All the digits added together came to 11 …which always indicates to me that I am in the right place at the right time…But, the spirit visitor returned and I felt as though I were Dumbo again as Sheila, my husband’s deceased mother, acting as a spirit guide and protector (she died in 2000), once more pulled at my poor, tired ear…

“Take your time,” she implored; “take your time!” All in one thought she conveyed to me the fact that she had been scanning the road ahead and spotted a “fly by night” with whom we definitely needed to avoid coming into contact. We thanked her for her loving protection and Mike took his foot off the accelerater. “Keep your eyes on the road,” she encouraged. After 10 mts or so she said “you’re alright now” and sent several personal messages from herself and husband for my husband, who was incredulous as seconds before I had told him his mother was on the line he had been thinking of her; imagining asking her advice on some other matter. “Knock and the door shall be opened!” she advised. In other words, my husband merely thinking of his mother had brought her rushing to him, hence the advice on driving safely! We passed a tractor and trailer in the gloom; a boy racer weaved in and out ahead of us; someone drove at high speed from a services slip-road and joined the motorway in an erratic fashion: Time as we know it is of such consequence to our daily journeys; it could have been any one of those things we had been involved with due to only a second or two’s difference in speed. Imagine how busy our spirits and guides on the other side are, scanning our paths for trouble the moment we connect with them in loving thoughts, however subconsciously!

When the long hours turned to dusk I suddenly thought about Albert Horace Wentworth and decided to have another go at offering him assistance. My guides found him tucked up in a dark alleyway in Penzance, several miles down the coast from the charity shop in Marazion. As he was snoozing, I left him. Just before we reached the familiar territory of home, however, my guides returned and informed me that they had kept the light shining on him and he suddenly awoke and followed it home: “ Sorry about the behaviour; most rude of me! ” he said from his rightful home on the other side. I discovered that he had been a sailor in Penzance when it was buzzing port. “A thriving fishing community,” he said sadly, “lost t’ world. W””””””s! ” he said of those who brought in fishing quotas which lost him his livlihood. “What else to do but drink y’ dole money?” he asked. “Still. Safely back in ‘arbour na; thanks missy!”

Cotton mill child workers shuttled gently back to heaven

Today I was meant to see a client for healing but fate decreed that she postponed. This meant I could accompany my son and his new bride to Manchester Airport and wave them off on their honeymoon to Switzerland. As the return journey was another 2 1/2 hours, Mikey and I decided to stop off at a National Trust property named Quarry Bank (Cheshire) and walk our doggie round the beautiful grounds, whilst indulging in a little historical culture at the same time…

Some of you may have seen a recent Channel 4 series named The Mill: a period drama set in 1833 and based on real-life stories and people of the textile mill workers. We had not realised this drama had been filmed at this very Quarry Bank Mill! I for one was relieved to learn that the characters and events had only been loosely based on real life and events: To me, the huge mill with its working machinery and the most powerful watermill in Europe represented child labour and greedy mill owners, so I was relieved to find it wasn’t quite the dark satanic mill that had been portrayed on television.  (I had been unable to watch after the first broadcast as it was too emotive.)

However, serendipity decreed that  within minutes of arrival at the mill I had to answer a call of nature and found myself being swept along with a gaggle of young schoolgirls into the ladies! Safely ensconced in a cubicle I decided I’d just do a bit of fishing for any lost souls ~ and was immediately approached by another (spirit) gaggle of youngsters ~ 23 little girls who had perished during the early history of the mill and who ‘had not made it’ … Just as I moved this batch over to the other side, I had to laugh at the irony as a school mistress interrupted the noisy girls congregated around the wash basins with a loud voice: “GIRLS!!! (Deadly silence) If you are done here will you please leave NOW…”   (I like to think I was far more gentle with my girls LOL!)

I chuckled to see the living girls lined up quietly on the cobbles outside and as I passed them I wanted to stand in place of their school teacher and give them another important lesson in life:  Appreciate the life you have now, for the children who worked in the mill  died from terrible diseases like cancer of the mouth from sucking cotton through bobbins or the groin from oils rubbing against them, bent over from 70 hour working weeks, were ‘contracted’ to work from the age of 8 years, right up until they were 18 ~ so there was no way out for them.  The lasses who rushed to me in spirit form ‘had not made it’ into heaven and had haunted the mill with their bent up sick little spirits since the Victorian era.  It is through LOVE that I was able to reunite them with their families waiting on the other side.

Later, in a room showing the stages of cotton, from the plant to the spinning wheels and then to the fabric, I found one lone cotton picker, and Mike obligingly hid my madly spinning dowser from pubic view as I retrieved his soul. We climbed down some cold stone steps, well worn from years of little feet up and down them, and I came across a crouching spirit child retching in a corner, which led me to find another 8 hiding on these stairwells. At the Accounting House I found the energies too oppressive to enter and hovered in the doorway. From here I cleared a huddle of 13 ‘accountants and desk wallopers’ (!) from the Dickens-type space of musty dark wood document draws and desks ~ obviously a combination of hard working accountants and their Mr Gradgrind type bosses who kept the mill running like machinery. They were no doubt relieved to find themselves back in the healing, gentle and loving existence of the After Life!

A chance meeting with a 400 year old witch

My parents were up country for their grandson’s wedding so it was a great chance to take them to see my Uncle and Aunt in the nearby county of Leicestershire. We all had a wonderful reunion, after which eight of us descended on a quaint little pub for lunch. Although I was enjoying a rare break from checking for lost souls, enjoying the family camaraderie, it was inevitably time to pop to the Ladies and out of pure habit I whipped out my dowser to check ~ I can’t help myself!!

Wow! Within seconds, four lost souls had shot through the portal and into the Light…

The fifth, however, paused before following them to freedom:

“Witch hunt!…” she cried…”t’were a witch hunt!….’ung me in a gibbet!!!” My dowser flailed wildly as she was being pulled in the direction of the Light but struggled to make her voice heard;…”Me bairn! They snatched me bairn; ripped her from me bos’m!” When a soul is extremely distressed like this it is my duty to try and calm them down so that their passing will be as gentle as possible. I sympathised greatly with her, feeling the awful pain that only a mother can feel when something so terrible comes between her and her child.

“Evelyn Peasgood…” she said clearly, “Evelyn Peasgood; that’s me name…Forget me not!…” ~ then she passed serenely. I scribbled her details onto a scrap of paper in my back pocket and slipped it to my husband upon return to the table. Not all my extended family were aware of my other life as a ghost rescuer and it was easier to keep quiet about my encounter. However, there is a time and a season to every purpose under heaven as, only 10 minutes later, my father thrust one of my calling cards in front of my Uncle’s face. (Oh no! Such a lot of explaining to do and I’m sure he will be a sceptic…) To my amazement he was very interested in my work, so I took a chance and told him how I’d just met Evelyn Peasgood, who told me she had been hanged as a witch. He gazed into my eyes earnestly…

“Just 2 miles up the hill in that direction,” he said, “several witches were hung…” Perhaps Evelyn had given me her name so that I could look into history and complete her story? Once home I studied a map of the area and found that midway between Husbands Bosworth and Church Langton, where I found Evelyn in the pub, there is road named Gallow Field Road. Research into witchcraft in Leicestershire revealed that on July 18th 1616, alongside poor Evelyn, eight other woman were executed by hanging, their remains grotesquely hung in gibbets. Tragically, they were executed for their ‘supposed involvement in the alleged bewitchment of (a young lad named) John Smyth’ (recorded July 18th, 1618)…In this modern age we now know that John Smyth, far from being possessed of evil spirits, was suffering from epileptic fits.

It is recorded elsewhere that these poor women were made to chant incantations over the boy in a bid to retract their so called evil influences.

Why did Evelyn Peasgood insist I remember her name? When I found her details in that ledger (she directed me to the correct entry), it read: ‘Anon 269 is hanged as a witch on July 18th 1666 at Husbands Bosworth, Leicester’. To add insult to injury, she and all those innocent women were completely stripped of their identities. Just numbers in a Ledger! Mercifully, each had left their bodies after death but Evelyn could not bear to leave her young child motherless and had stayed by her side until she grew, and then left for the light after her natural death. Evelyn, however, was unable to leave the magnetic vibration of the earth and therefore remained in limbo for almost 400 years.

“All is not lost!” interjected Evelyn from the other side as I wrote: “We are all reunited in love and forgiveness of one another ~ hallelujah, Praise the Lord!” Now, thanks to that chance encounter in the pub, not only has the spirit of Evelyn been returned to her rightful place in heaven, but she has retrieved her rightful identity.

To honour those poor women wrongly hunted and murdered as witches, the other numbers registered in that Ledger are 301 (died while in custody in gaol), 300, 298, 297, 295, 294, 293 and 292 ~ is it not strange that Evelyn was numbered 269 and was the only soul to remain earthbound for the next 400 years? (In numerology, 2+6+9=17=8 ~ a symbol of everlasting life!)

Who needs a house sitter when you’ve got a few ghosts keeping an eye out?

Our neighbour recently went abroad for 2 weeks and we popped in twice a day to draw the curtains, feed the fish and generally keep an eye out for their home. On the third evening my husband was engrossed in a film and I offered to do the honours, nipping round to unlock their front door and retrieve the mail from the porch. After drawing the curtains in their front room I was moving to the back of the house when I felt several pairs of eyes watching me. Not in the physical sense, of course, but the eyes of lost souls who’d congregated in the house for one reason or another. As I walked into the new kitchen extension I suddenly realised there were no curtains to pull there.

“Don’t you be a peeking and a prying!” warned a stern but playful voice from one of the invisible people, taking me aback!

I laughed,‘don’t be so ridiculous…as if I WOULD!’ then took out my dowser, stopped half way up the stairs, and asked ‘would anyone like a lift home then?’ The uptake was immediate, and 16 swishes of my dowser later the visitors who had been attracted to the house on a like attracts like basis were once more free to continue their spiritual journey onwards and upwards. This included a Sierzant from the Polish Army and, just out of interest, I mentioned this to my neighbours upon their return. Apparently, somewhere in the house, there is some Polish military ephemera…proving once again that objects contain vibrational energy and any lost soul connected with that object during their lifetime is able to be located through the Law of Attraction. Simples!

Deceased eminent scientist GOOGLES her encouragement!

Having answered my emails and about to close down my laptop, suddenly the screen displayed a Wikipedia page on a Rosalind Franklin (25 July 1920-16 April 1958). My first reaction was one of incredulity ~ who is she and how did she just pop up without me having googled her and followed the link? I started to read about her, knowing that this was a supernatural encounter. She was a British biophysicist and Xray crystallographer who made critical contributions to the understanding of the fine molecular structures of the DNA, viruses and more. Her discovery of DNA’s genetic role in cell metabolism and the discovery of its structure brought about a greater understanding about how genetic information is passed from parents to children.

Then I noticed that she was born on this very DAY and MONTH ~ 93 years ago! She died aged only 37 of ovarian cancer. ‘Is she RIP?’ was the first question that came to mind and YES she was. Then my dowser took off at a fair rate of knots, immediately hooking in 7 hitherto earthbound ladies who had died of ovarian cancer and not passed safely. (The Law of Attraction) Was this why she googled herself for me? Before she could reply, another 6 passed, then another 6, then yet another 6 (666 not having the Devil connotation that fear and superstition has passed down since the Fire of London cleansed all the disease and debauchery of 1666, but rather confirming the supernatural connection with the light.)

“Write a paper on your progressive work in bio-chemistry,” she suggested.
“Me? Write a paper when I’m not a scientist?” I laughed. “Who would bother to read it?”“Give it a try my dear” was her kind response. “We will help you…”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door as my 10.30 am client had arrived. I saved Rosalind Franklin’s page to favourites, amused to notice that she was born in Notting Hill, London (I work from Nottingham) and with ‘ovarian cancer’ still on my mind I trotted off to do my stuff with my 30 year old client. I always take a medical history and how could I have been surprised when she told me that she has pre-cancerous cells (caused by a virus) found in the uterus and the ovaries???

During the next hour I loosened the energy around her womb and ovaries (using the channelled healing power of reiki) and removed not only blockages of emotional, spiritual and psychic stress (rather like a fog blocking the flow of energies to an organ) but more importantly between those layers batch after batch of earthbound spirits that had become attached to her over many years. Not only is there (perhaps)an inherent DNA chain to be dealt with but her life experiences and emotional responses (empathy, fear, stress) has resulted in The Law of Attraction bringing in lost souls. As most scientists would not entertain the fact that our spirit returns to a pool of energy after the death of the physical body and in some instances becomes left behind as an entity I am most grateful for Rosalind’s support from that pool of light energy. People once scoffed at the suggestion that the world is round. One day my own work will no doubt be accepted by the mainstream.

Still in the long dragged out process of being rejected by publisher after publisher (it is too important for me to self-publish) Messages from Ghostwriters in the Sky includes encouraging words channelled directly to me from Galileo Galilei as follows:

“Indeed you have demonstrated the true meaning of The Assayer’s Gold (the connection between mind and matter) and the stars which I observed so acutely have become your own source of matter – to be broken down into tiny atoms and distributed via your writings… Train your telescope on the United Nations of Mankind and implore them to get things back into focus. The wheels are in motion, my dear. Don’t let me down!”… – Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) Italian physicist, mathematician, astronomer and philosopher

From little fairies to a naked man ~ all in a day’s spirit rescue work!

Enroute to Calke Abbey on 10th June, Mike and I travelled along the A453, being widened by diggers ripping into the adjacent fields like metal monsters, acres of green fields turned brown with soil to be smothered in concrete roads. When we reached the end of this road I felt my eyes physically trying to cross, so crowded had my third eye become with emotional, spiritual and psychic stress emanating from the land and the spirits whose playground was being bulldozed: forty one of these nature spirits being transmuted to the light of their origin and leaving me with a fortification spectrum migraine that didn’t disperse until we reached the Ladies toilet of Calke Abbey, where I was able to remove tons more emotion stuck to my third eye along with another huge batch of fairies. This time I could see little children with wings: disturbed and murdered fairy folk 😦

Having cleared lost souls at Calke Abbey in Derbyshire many years ago, I didn’t expect to find any more in need of help on this later visit …but I was wrong! Perhaps it was because there were hardly any human visitors to the house and so the few shy lost ones were able to approach me without disturbance.

The first room in the Abbey is crammed full of stuffed animal heads ~ a common sight in Victorian days which does not sit right with us in modern times. Completely alone with my husband, I was able to dowse all the beautiful creatures for any souls that had not crossed the veil after their deaths. The magnificent creatures included stags, bulls and pretty-faced cattle. NINETEEN of these were not resting in peace.

The Trust volunteers, completely oblivious to my rescue mission, smiled sweetly and ushered us into the next room ~ where there were more of the same. “The family collected specimens from around the estate and also from all over the world; it was what they did,” explained the next Guide, when we expressed our distaste. Only two of these hundreds of souls needed help this time.

Yet another room, mostly stuffed birds, and two needing help. In a courtyard leading to the tea room (yes! :-)) we stopped to peek into a Tack room. I immediately connected to the spirit of a pony named Ginger and moved him over.

In a stone tunnel leading to the huge kitchen and servants’ quarters I jumped to see a naked man spirit on all fours scuttling in the cold and dark, trying to hide; debased and debauched and in need of love and tenderness. He was described as a ‘faggot’ and the imprint of his life’s experiences were unrepeatable. (Mike told me a faggot is an old term for a homosexual and in Oscar Wilde’s time, for example, it was illegal and resulted in the latter being jailed.)

In yet another quiet stairway leading to a bathroom and general storage room with children’s toys I met a young boy William ~ who was only interested in drinking his ‘Tizer’; a fizzy pop drink of the ‘fifties and ‘sixties. All in a day’s work! ❤

Angry fairies make themselves known, and who can blame them?

Work on widening the main link into Nottingham began several weeks ago and my heart went out to the nature spirits whose homes have been dug up, flattened and stuffed with hard concrete footings.  Row upon row of trees, some of which have stood for many years, have been cut at their bases, ruthlessly destroyed in the name of human progress. Daily, we are hearing more horror stories of beautiful green-belt land being violated like this.  It sickens me to my stomach.  By the time we’d passed the diggers and bulldozers, the men in hard hats measuring out yet more green fields to claim, my third eye was so overloaded with screaming fairies begging for help that I was physically boss-eyed and grateful my dear husband was at the wheel. 

I meticulously picked out fairy after fairy and helped each little soul to transmute from the physical nightmare of having their homes and playgrounds destroyed, the shock ~ and the hatred ~ yes, hatred ~ of humankind and what they have perpetrated in the name of ‘progress’ ~ Emotionally, spiritually and psychically shocked, batch after batch, including children of the fairy folk, were passed into the light of their origin.  I  was left with a tiny diamond shape that evolved into a full blown fortification migraine: A consequence of working with dazzling light, but oh so worth it.  I could share many stories with you about how humans have been physically and emotionally effected by ‘malignant’ nature spirits…

Many of you know that Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) and 100’s of other famous personalities channelled Ghostwriters in the Sky: A Soul is Forever, not Just a Lifetime to me over 5 long years but will not be aware of one particular chapter dictated by Ursula Williams (1911 -2006), a prolific children’s writer and Professor Francis Berry (1915-2006), writer of horror.  This is an excerpt from the chapter entitled ‘The Wizened Fairy’:

The Almighty:  “I am the Resurrected: I am the Living and the Dead. When I made your beautiful homeland it was a Paradise.  Then man, in his greed for nature’s resources, chopped down my trees, again and again and again, until there was nowhere for Claudius (He is I and I am Him) to live.  The gnomes, the pixies, the elves and the fairies – the elementals of my left hand (that which has passed) – were barbarically evicted from the home they so selflessly shared for the common good.  Claudius and those that matter had no-where to live…” 

Fairy:  “…So we tried to flee...” (Claudius was tipped gently from the Almighty’s left palm to land with an ungracious plop, back onto my ‘groundsheet’.  He summoned all his dignity.) “Some of us were killed in the process,” he wheezed.  “I managed to escape to neighbouring farmland, but the farmer in his ignorance sprayed his crops with pesticides and we were gassed out of our natural environment, choking on poison.  (He grabbed his sinuous throat, to illustrate his pain.) We sought refuge in yet another beautiful place – this time on a large country estate, where we could breathe again:  Those of us that survived, that is.  We made colonies – refuges for our fellow nature beings to hide during such a tempestuous time in our evolution.  (He paused, tears building in his bulging eyes.)  We loved our mature trees; our children played in healthy woodlands and frolicked in wild grasses.  We enjoyed many years living among our beloved trees and wild flowers, singing with the bubbling brook and riding the swollen river that ran through the estate.  Then war broke out once more.  (He bowed his wrinkled and bald little head and tried to swallow the lump in his scrawny throat.) The landowner died and his children could not afford to pay the massive death duties to your greedy government, so the adults who had played with us and loved us all through their childhood had to sell up and leave.  Greedy property developers gathered round, dividing and casting lots between them.  The bulldozers moved in and we ran for our lives! (His long bony fingers covered his eyes in distress.) We cowered in the dark places where no human beings dared to venture.  It was our only solace.  Our children were not allowed out into the sunshine to frolic and play, as men in hard hats tore open the sacred ground and built their towering blocks of matter.  Not a tree was spared!  The ground was smothered!  Our friends suffocated: Some could not leave in time… (He lifted his head, took a deep breath and folded his ragged wings about his dried up, prune-like body).  Our water nymphs and our undines cried tears with us; polluted waters from man’s chemicals distorted and twisted our minds and our bodies! (He stood now; bravely defiant, his swollen belly somehow supporting emaciated legs.) Nature became sick!  Man was given our earth as a playground to share with his brothers and sisters in nature.  Instead he has trampled us underfoot, caused us to rise in defence through the gathering of nature’s armies – the wind, the earth, the water:  The elements of no surprise! You treat us heartlessly; then lock us up, chop us down, starve and poison us.  What are we supposed to do?  (He folded his arms and stuck out his pointed chin, his bulging eyes growing in confidence.)  I am Claudius and I am one of the survivors.”…When you see your flooded rivers reclaiming your own sacred ground; your earthquakes and tsunami’s claiming more lives; your beautiful world shrivelling up and drying before your very eyes, spare a thought for us fairies.  We are tired of giving you our unconditional love, tired of choking on your polluted air, tired of being driven from our homeland with no regard from humanity.  Spare a thought for us before you concrete your drives and rip up your trees – and maybe you could plant a tree instead?” he asked, affectionately.  “Give something back to yourselves.  Before it all ends in nothingness.  Here Endeth the Lesson.”   …

With a clicking of wings, he was gone.  Sadly, I downed my psychic tools for another night.  There was nothing more to say.’ 

“Nature  has  been  twisted  and  tortured  into  retribution.  Evolution  declares  her alimony:  A truce  to  clear  the  muddied  waters  and  reproduce  her  loving  seeds  of  growth.  Take; eat.  This  is  my body, which  is  given  for you!  The  biological  clock  is  ticking…” 

 

‘Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.’ – Sir Walter Scott

Can animals assist in soul rescue?

Just as we humans are all different, some more sensitive than others for instance, so are animals.  Just after the slaughter or culling of farm animals several years ago due to foot and mouth disease I came across a black cow, standing forlornly with some of the more fortunate animals saved from this disaster.  As our eyes met I knew what was in her heart. Her huge dark eyes filled with tears that spilled over and down her bovine face. I dowsed and hooked on to the spirits of dozens of animals whose spirits had become tangled in the agony of their seemingly pointless deaths, witnessing untold horrors and preventing them from passing safely. 

Sam the Wonderdog 2013

Sam has already starred in my blogs as a hyper sensitive creature, sent to us by spiritual guardians specialising in the rescue of all sentient beings on the earthplane.  He spends much of his time hiding under his owners’ desk with his stuffed duck for company, destined as he was to come and live in a sorting office for lost souls!  He acts as another tuning fork through which lost souls of animals vibrate and has only to give me a certain glance or a little whine or an alarmed look towards an empty doorway for me to stop what I’m doing and ‘clear’ him or the house.  Just last night, he suddenly jumped out of a peaceful slumber on the settee, his face all squashed and lopsided with sleepiness, his lovely brown eyes pleading with me.  Animals have the same chakra energy centres as us humans and by dowsing his third eye chakra (between the eyes) I found 25 animal spirits, including greyhounds and animals who had suffered ‘sub-normal’ conditions.  Within the hour the total had crept to 100, as batch after batch ‘landed’ on him.  He came up to me and put an elegant paw on my lap as if to say ‘it’s your turn now mum!’   Sure enough, 56 of these animal spirits had also attached themselves to me and were quickly released to the light. 

But what of cats?  Surely they are known as psychic animals?  Years ago, a phantom black cat  came into my life by appearing in my sister’s shower, on my nephew’s bed in the middle of the night, in a friend’s friend’s house and jumping out of a client’s kitchen cupboards!  All to attract attention to lost souls in their homes, who were consequently helped to leave for Home.  Just one more example of animals in service to God’s work, my sister Sandra had a lovely black kitten named Diesel who later disappeared without trace. Several years later, an adult black cat wandered into her kitchen looking for food and she was convinced it was her beloved Diesel, returned.  She asked me to dowse to try and find out where he had been in the interim and I was told (by spirit) that he had been living wild and had gathered round him many lost souls, which I cleared in large batches.  These included foxes, rabbits, deer, dogs and cats.  My sister had Diesel checked out at the vets and vaccinated, but sadly he disappeared again ~ only to return weeks later for a much needed feed – and many more lost animal souls attached to him.   Then he was off again on the hunt….

When a client left an answerphone message for me cancelling her appointmennt because her beloved cat had died, I heard her deceased cat ‘miaow’ in the background (she only had one cat) and recorded this on tape. She could not bear to leave her human behind and it was my role to persuade her to leave so that one fine day in the distant future they will be reunited again.  Every living creature, whether human or animal, has a spirit which passes back to the light of its origin after the death of its physical body ~ and that’s a fact! 🙂   

‘Who says ghosts don’t have feelings?’

Cornish sunset with Sam Apr 2013

Dad had to take his car for it’s MOT so we followed in our car and while we waited for the old girl to be passed fit we called in at the nearest pub for a bite to eat.  The Grade II Listed pub was very quiet and as soon as we settled in our seats I sensed a visitor from the past hovering near the dark, wooden bar.  Perhaps, after a decade of sticking up for ghost’s rights I am getting slightly bold in my approach, but after the publican had taken our orders I came out with it:  “Have you seen any ghosts in here?” He hardly flinched. “No, not personally, but others get the hairs standing up on the back of their necks now and then…” 

“Jane’s a ghostbuster!”  my Dad announced proudly, while I tried to correct him, as it conjures up images of men in white coats with extermination apparatus taking pot shots at green slime!!  Rather than retreat to the privacy of the Ladies I was encouraged by the family to dowse there and then and there was a very fast take-up of  30 lost souls flying through the portal of love and light.  Several of them were miners and the ghostly fellow who’d given everyone goosbumps at the bar said proudly that ‘Prince Albert paid us a visit you know!’ 

I later had an opportunity for a quiet word with the publican and when I told him this he said ‘that’s true!‘.  He then pointed to a row of small framed black and white prints high above the bar (where the man I’d seen had been slouching in a long mac and flat cap) and said ‘thats Prince Albert there…the one in the white hat.  He visited the village after a tragedy on the coal face in which many miners lost their lives.’   It was obviously enough to convince him of my ability to help as he then told me about the home he once lived in that had some so-called activity (although he hadn’t experienced it himself) when a woman and her child were said to haunt it.  I tuned in there and then and moved on twelve souls, including a woman servant who, after she had become pregnant, I am told, was thrown out onto the streets by her employer.  My gentleman friend was amazed as the activity only started after his unmarried pregnant neice came to stay.  Who says ghosts don’t have feelings?

That same day, my neice asked me to check whether there were some ‘naughties’ in the dental surgery in which she works.  Without herself or the dentist being near a piece of electrical equipment it had made a noise. My neice laughingly said ‘it must be a ghost’ and the lady in the chair at the time retorted ‘there are no such things as ghosts.’  At that moment a chart fell off the wall, startling them.  ‘It has never happened before’! Lucy added. There was not just one but several ‘ghosts’ in the surgery, one of which was American and said to the lady ‘wash your mouth out with soap!’ (‘carbolic’ at that and apparently there HAD been an American lady in the surgery that day, who probably brought her friend in with her)!‘  So be careful what you say when you think that no-body is listening!….🙂

Margaret Thatcher arrives safely on the other side….but what of Dennis?

Regular readers of my blogs will know that I wrote a post on 24th February of this year entitled ‘The Iron Lady’s deceased husband waits loyally for her.’  I concluded that as he didn’t have any intention of moving on after his own death in  2001 there was little point in persuading him and that I would check in with him when Margaret’s own time came. 

Well the first I heard of Baroness Thatcher’s death today was when my daughter-in-law phoned to ask me whether I’d heard the news.  I was sitting in a coffee shop with my parents in down-town Penzance and had already gathered a few lost souls, apparent when an alarm intermittently went off as I entered and browsed in a local shop. (See my blog Electricity is the link to the spiritual world of 30th May 2012.)  She knew of my intentions to help Dennis when the time came and as soon as I was able I asked my spirit helpers the following:

“Is Margaret Thatcher resting in peace?”

“Yes…” (She passed safely as most of us do, despite my hundreds of stories here!)

“Did Dennis go with her when she passed from this plane?” (although I already knew the answer)

“He is still earthbound…”

I telepathically connected to Dennis’s confused spirit, ready to give him the help he so needed.  (“Where did she go? Why won’t she answer me? She won’t wake up!”) As I hooked on to him to lift him to a level where he could reconnect with the light of his origin, my dowser spun furiously as I held him within reach of the Iron Lady herself, who – amusingly – dangled a walking stick for him to take a hold of!  I heard the expression ‘whistle and flute’, which is London slang for ‘suit’ (was he wearing his best?)  Immediately, seven other lost souls took advantage of the open portal of light and joined the victorious couple. (These were described as ‘staunch Thatcherites/Lords and Peers’)  

I requested an interview with the Thatchers at some later date and was told “Arrange it with the clerk…Come back later and I’ll try to give you an interview…” (We retain our personalities upon returning home.  If I am granted such an interview I will let you know :-))

“Basically,” I summarised to my spirit helpers, “when Dennis died he refused to leave Margaret’s side but when  she herself died he couldn’t travel on the ‘same bus’ (so to speak)…”   And the witty reply?

“No…He had to wait for the No. 10 to come back for him…! (Downing Street)

Just to make it clearer, if someone is earthbound (ie after approx 3 months the passage home becomes indistinct) they can only be redirected and lifted back on track by a lightworker such as myself.  Each individual has their own passageway to cross and can’t ‘cadge a lift’ with another.  The moral of this story, perfectly demonstrated by our first woman Prime Minister and her beloved husband Dennis, is don’t stay behind in the first place!  Dennis Thatcher is eternally grateful to have been discovered, but not everyone is as lucky!

Is Abraham Lincoln resting in Peace?

In yet another remarkable act of serendipity, during a client’s third visit she told me that her mother had died in the few weeks since I had seen her, closely followed by her aunt.  Seeking to reassure her of their safe arrival on the other side, I saw the two of them, arms linked, heads together and apparently ‘knitting’ on the other side.  It became apparent that they were sitting on a picnic rug with several other ‘family’ souls, one of whom was holding a phial and ‘concocting’ something…

“My father was a doctor…” said my client

…another said he was a ‘horologist’ (clockmaker).  I then saw a net catching a butterfly and an ephigy of Abraham Lincoln, complete with top hat and clothes of his time…

“Strange,” agreed my client…

…then I saw a large white sheet with a red cross in the middle and my client’s mum on the other side ‘wrapped’ her daughter in this, sending her love.  My client cried tears of joy at this point, saying her mother had been a nurse.  But what of Abraham Lincoln?  What was he doing on that picnic rug?  Did my client have any connection with America?

“My sister and I went to a Quaker school for two years?” she offered. (Like energy attracts like energy)

I picked up my dowser to see if he was resting in peace and to my amazement he had not yet passed and immediately took advantage of the re-connection to the light.  I caught him safely like a butterfly in a net and within seconds he was being welcomed into the loving hands of the Red Cross nurses on the other side, including my client’s Mum. It was now obvious that I’d been shown an effigy of Abraham Lincoln because he was ‘missing from home’; horology is taken from the Greek for ‘the study of time’; the metaphor for a butterfly is a spirit, so I needed to traverse time to rescue Lincoln’s spirit in my net!  Imagine my excitement when he granted me a few words!

“Have I just rested your spirit sir?”

“Ultimate achievement.  Well done.”

“Why did you become stuck on the earthplane after your death?”

“Terror.  My bones.  The bullet stopped me in my tracks but I lived on.  I panicked.  I am now enlightened…” (A huge crowd of people waited in line to welcome him home; unsurprisingly perhaps, one of them was President John Kennedy!)

“Was it part of your pre-birth commitment to experience being an earthbound spirit?”

“NO! I slipped up.  Heavens above, it was all my own fault.  Raving lunatic took my life.  How could I let it go? Stunned….Unexpected.  Senate awaited…Too much to do…Roaring success.  How could I leave adoration of people?” 

“And your experience of being trapped on earth?”

“Tumbleweed; rolling on and on…. To the painted desert.  Dry throat/could not communicate/breathe. (I see a skull in a dry desert)  Vultures.  My spirit left to rot….  But now I am doing the salsa!!  I love to dance again with Life!” (Amusingly, I see him dancing with someone named Henry Halleck (1815-1872) who I later find was his General-in-Chief in 1862; a US Army Officer, scholar and lawyer.  Early on in the American Civil War he was a senior Union Army Commander.)  Lincoln then burst forth: “Get out your guns, aim and fire spiritual truth at the minions! He stood on his soapbox in the sky and shook his fist: “There is movement towards greener grass (spiritual wellness).  Cider drinking varmints, gross public indecency, loud mouthed beurocrats, walloping trade wars… Ban this; ban that… Wars of the Roses all over again.  Off the rails!  (My dowser spun constantly for approximately a minute, clearing something negative with regard to Unions/Unity and ‘disregard for others’)

Lincoln’s wife Mary, full of joy, thanked me for being eager to help her husband.

“Are all your friends and family present and correct?” I asked, in case I could be of further assistance.

“Incumbrance, natural incumbrance…” was Lincoln’s strange reply, before he left for the last time to catch up on the 148 years since his death.   Naturally, I looked up the word ‘incumbrance’ and as well as meaning something that impedes or is burdensome or a hindrance (ie him becoming trapped on earth) it also has a rare meaning of ‘a dependent person, especially a child.’  Losing three of his four children had been a great burden to Lincoln and his wife during their lifetime, causing great melancholy and depression.

Can a porcelein figure contain lost souls?

As promised, I recently accompanied my son to the Toy & Train Collector’s Fair in Donington, which turned out to be a great day of serendipity.  It is always fascinating to wander around reminiscing about my own childhood and as my son chatted animatedly to a stall holder about the history of Lego, I thought about the Cinderella figurine I had been given, along with my very first Timex watch, in the 1960’s.  Would any of the the delicate porcelein figurines have survived fifty years to end up at a fair I wondered?  Then I saw her!  Standing alone on the top shelf of a dealer’s stall was the beautiful blonde princess in the blue dress of my memories.  I could barely believe it!  Dare I ask the dealer how much?  To my delight, he was thrilled that I remembered the Timex watch with the blue nylon strap that accompanied this little lady as other potential buyers had  apparently looked askansed at the idea when he’d given them the history.  £7 and she was mine! But what has this to do with earthbound spirits you may ask?

Everything contains energy as it is made of atoms – from the settee that you sit on every day to the everyday objects that you use or the homes that you live in and of course our own physical, emotional and spiritual bodies. When you sit in that settee you are imprinting your OWN energies into it, just as everything you touch, sleep in, live in or interact with. I dowsed this young lady and sure enough, somewhere along her history, she had picked up (in her vibrational atoms) a little negativity, which I cleared. Immediately, ELEVEN earthbound spirits left – amazingly people connected to her in some way over the last 50 or so years of her existence – including the grandmother of her owner and some of her friends ‘missing from home’ !  Her energies contained the imprints of  when she was created in the factory to the shop in which she was sold to the home in which she was no doubt loved by that little girld like me in the ’60′s! Then of course there was the distance she had travelled to get to my dowser. A jumble sale perhaps, where the dealer picked her up? In other words, everywhere she had travelled, anyone who had touched her, any place she had stood – all being energy that can be dowsed and released.  Fascinating stuff isn’t it? 🙂

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Please don’t ignore my Loving Adventures with the world of Earthbound Spirits!

The subject of death is not all doom and gloom I can assure those who never dare glance at any of my Blogs! The following examples might just tempt you to see that I work from UNCONDITIONAL LOVE, which brings with it JOY and HUMOUR too…

Love with all your Heart!

When a person dies and does not quite reach the other side (the place to which we all return after our physical body can no longer sustain our spirit), they become trapped in a no-man’s land, often attaching to places or people with whom they were associated during their lifetimes. When someone attending my spiritual support group (now disbanded because of my huge workload), for example, asked me whether their recently deceased Dad was ‘okay?’, my dowser flung itself backwards and forwards, indicating an exuberant ‘yes, yes, yes!’ – and not only was he happily settled on the other side, but he had found that Aunt Nelly (“Oh, yes, Dad did have an Aunt Nelly!”) was missing from home and needed assistance to leave.  The joy of helping just one soul missing from Home is indescribable!

One regular attendee brought along her lady boss, who was inquisitive but not quite a believer, and when I honed in on her heart centre I found several earthbound spirits had become attached to her so moved them over in a huge vortex of joy, accompanied by the sound of ‘oompah-pah, oompah-pah’! Her eyes immediately welled up and there was a stunned silence as she was choked with emotion. I apologised that I may have inadvertently upset her but she replied “It’s okay…it’s alright,” grabbing another tissue… “It’s just that my father-in-law died recently – and he was the leader of a big brass band…!” Safely on the other side after his death, he had gathered missing friends and family inside the heart centre of his beloved daughter-in-law, knowing she would be attending the meeting and that they would all be safely reunited once more.

Often a joke or two or a short message is channelled, raising a chortle amongst the ladies, whose eyes were glued to the antics of my dowser.  This swings in various modes, performing chaotic bounces in the air when a particular ‘ghost’ has a lot to complain about or does not particularly want to be helped on their way! We all have free will, even after death, and I will never force a trapped soul to leave, but merely attract their attention to any waiting relatives on the other side and if that doesn’t work, remind them that if they don’t take this opportunity to leave, when their surviving family in turn pass on they will be devastated to find him or her missing from home, inevitably too late! Huge batches of particularly strong spirits require me to cling determinedly to my dowser and often it will stop dead immediately afterwards as rescue workers on the other side check that all have been delivered safely to their original home….. It will then swing gently to and fro in confirmation.

Once night only three ladies turned up the group due to the fact it was polling night 2010. (Labour were to be ousted from governmental charge and Conservative and Liberal Democrats to have joint responsibilities in running the country.)  I don’t generally classify myself as a medium offering such services, but that night I found myself opening my mouth and speaking without thinking, asking if anyone knew anyone on the other side who might be tuning in and could have a message. “My Dad?” asked one of them. It was the father of the lady whose Aunt Nelly had been missing from home but was now joyfully in her right place on the other side.

Immediately, her father sang the first few lines of a classical overture, which I obligingly repeated for his daughter, accompanied by an invisible baton in the air. Her eyes welled up. Then he looked inside a brown coat jacket and indicated something was in his pocket. It was a pipe. His daughter raised her hand to her mouth and took a gulp. “Dad died of cancer of the oesophagus due to smoking a pipe. He also had a great passion for Beethoven and that piece you sung was his favourite. He used to sit and listen to it in raptures, using a pretend baton to conduct.” At the next meeting he wore a kilt (‘Oh yes, mum and dad used to go to Scotland every year – although dad never wore a kilt. Obviously he is trying something new!) Then he showed me a bag and fished out lots of little objects. He juggled them in the air and looking closer I realised they were pipes. He obviously had a brilliant sense of humour as this was his way of telling his daughter he was also learning to play the (bag)pipes!

The conductor of my own orchestra continues to help both those on this side of the veil to believe in the continuance of the soul and those who have become trapped on earth and need directing to the heavenly choir stalls in order to continue the journeys of their lifetimes. An unseen finger and thumb turns the page carefully to introduce me to my next performance.  I hope you have enjoyed this little foray into the life and works of a Christian lady with God’s work to do, regardless of others’ judgment 🙂

The Iron Lady’s deceased husband waits loyally for her…

On 7th January 2013 I watched The Iron Lady on television and was fascinated to see that the film makers had portrayed our ex-Prime Minister as talking to her ‘imaginary’ husband, deceased 12 years previously.

With the work in which I specialise I know that there is a difference between an enlightened soul, ie one who has passed over to the other side, and an earthbound soul, someone who has either elected- or through no fault of their own become stuck on the earth plane – to stay behind in spirit form after the death of their physical body. With the latter, there is always a great risk that they will never, therefore, be able to pass unaided without the help of someone like myself. Naturally, I tuned in to the guardian angel of Dennis Thatcher and asked whether he had returned to the Light after his death. The answer was, as I expected, that he was ‘missing from Home’… Did he want any help to return to the light?

“No, I will stay with her until the end of time!”

The film portrays a rather romantic vision of Dennis eventually walking into the Light, or ‘crossing over’, but this never actually happened as his soul remains beside his beloved wife.

“I will walk beside her all the way!” he said proudly.

 I’ve decided to wait until her natural death and help him along then.  There is no real point in trying to persuade him otherwise at the moment as Maggie is 83 years old.  So where is the lesson in this story? 🙂  When your time to pass comes, look towards the light and don’t resist the call of your loved ones and the encouragement of your angels to follow the light back to your Original Source.  He is lucky that he was portrayed as a ghost in the film or else he would have remained in limbo after his wife’s death.  If a soul does not return home to the light within 3 months then he or she will lose the ability to cross unaided. 

40 year old ghosts of the Vietnam War are laid to rest

My husband was so moved by veteran helicopter pilots’ recollections of rescue missions in Vietnam, when they bravely cut their way through bamboo jungle using the rota blades of the helicopters – then returned again and again to pick up 100 soldiers caught in the crossfire of an ambush, he sent me the following link so I could see for myself:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qk8XF7TvPq4   To be honest, I’ve had my fill of emotional overload this week but out of respect for him I watched it through.  It was very moving and the sheer courage and self sacrifice of the pilots is remarkable. 

As amateur footage of the five missions taken by one of these pilots was played back, I dowsed the area of jungle and started to remove physical and emotional stress, followed by batches of lost souls, still in limbo after 40 years:  Those of American soldiers, their allies the South Vietnamese, members of the North Vietnamese Army as well as civilians in the surrounding areas – A total of 111.  (Anyone familiar with numerology will realise that this mission was ‘written’ – right place, right time!)

Come morning, I awoke with a heavy, thumping heart, made all the more clackety by my metal replacement heart valve, and felt decidedly off-colour.  My first thoughts were ‘oh no, Mike’s away on business today and I have to walk the dogs!’  Despite taking long deep breaths and staying calm I could not regain my usual sense of well being so decided to check myself for attached entities.  Immediately, 11 very nasty souls were ousted, one at a time, under the description (by my spirit guides) of ‘Vietcong Guerillas’.  Some souls who pass through and into the light prefer to stay attached to me and this is known as ‘psychic attack’.  They were draining all my physical resources but within seconds of removing them I was ‘myself’ again.  Doing this type of work has its dangers but I wouldn’t have it any other way!

I decided to research all the Vietnam operations between 1966 and 1968 and found another  43 (1966)  93 (1967)  and 44 (1968) souls who had not made the usual transition to the light after their tragic deaths.  Most areas of conflict contained the understandable physical and emotional stress, vibrations of bloody battles, but it was the 1968 battle from 30 January to 3 March that needed the most clearing, including on the spiritual and psychic levels where 15 of the lost souls were stranded.  A truly satisfying day’s work!

“All are safely gathered Home,” reassured my spirit guides, a total of 302 souls delivered from their 40 years of purgatory. YES!!! 🙂

A change of heart for ghosts of deceased Francescan monks…

Just before Christmas we were invited by friends to their home for a fabulous meal and along the way met some complete strangers, one of whom had heard that I was her hostess’s ‘psychic’ friend. I must say my heart sank as I get little rest from helping lost souls wherever I go and was in great need of some respite and just a good old fashioned chinwag for a change!  She graciously agreed to change the subject but it was too late.  I had ‘switched on’ my psychic faculty for just a few moments and as she started chatting to me about ‘normal’ things I ‘saw’ children circling her, bouncing balls then holding hands, singing ‘ring a ring a roses’.  This song is associated with the plague and I knew I had some work to do but would leave it until later…

In the meantime, another local man had joined us and was healthily sceptic when the lady told him what I get up to in my day (and night) job.  As soon as I looked at him I felt a presence but resisted saying anything.  I was picking up Frances….then Francescan….and after a lot off pressure to say something I DID.  ‘That’s extraordinary,” he said.  “My home is actually built on the grounds of old Francescan Monestary.”

“Well there you go!” was all I could say, knowing that the site was haunted by several lost souls and I just had to sort it – if only to get some peace and enjoy the rest of the afternoon as I was starting to get fortification spectrum, the visual side of a migraine attack – usually a result of overwork on the spiritual plane.  I scuttled into the privacy of the loo and took off my necklace to use as a dowser.  Immediately, three Franscescan monks came through and told me in no uncertain words that what I was doing was  tantamount to ‘witchcraft’ so, with respect to them (they didn’t seem to realise that they themselves were trapped spirits) I decided to leave my rescue work  at the Monestary until later.   However, I was able to help several other lost souls from the village and surrounding area and especially children lost in the plague of another century.

Once home, I tuned in again to the Francescan Monestary and was again told ‘you were going to stay away from here!’ by the ghostly monks, who were no doubt protecting other lost souls from my wicked ways!  I remained humble and asked politely if they would allow me to  speak to the lost ones and show them what I could do to help.  After a conflab they told me  “The door is open,”  and I saw a large arch shaped and heavy wooden door slowly open.  Immediately, 22 lost souls flew out and rushed into the light through the vortex I was able to offer them.  The three monks were , in modern terms, ‘gobsmacked’ and said ‘Thank you Jane.  You have been wronged and we apologise sincerely’ – and they themselves shot off, given the opportunity.  They had been keeping those lost souls in a place of safety (the Monestary) after they themselves had remained earthbound after their own deaths.  The safehouse had included those lost in the plague, the Civil War and even those who died of ‘longevity’ but didn’t pass.  A very satisfying afternoon’s work which amounted to 96 souls rescued, including children of the plague who had dwelt in the curious lady’s cottage until that day.

A C16th Conquistador gets a lift Home for Christmas!

                 “Oh no, not more spirits….Can’t a dog get any sleep round here?”

Christmas is always a busy time for Spirit Rescue work!  Last night I hardly slept a wink with over 190 lost souls being directed to me for help, including a ‘conquistador’.  It was a windy night and the dog was so disturbed by all the rattlings, both real and supernatural, that he leapt on to our bed and tried to share our pillows at 5.45 am!  When I had eventually fallen asleep at 1.30 am I was jolted awake again by the sound of a canonball or similar falling heavily onto a hard surface and sending my physical heart racing, then on another occasion the sound of a door banging – not in the physical realm but the spiritual. I caught sight (through my Third Eye) of a young man with a mop of wild black hair, dodging behind the door of my heart. 

“Who are you?  Can I help you?” I asked.

“No… No… I am lost, I am lost!”  was his reply. 

“Just listen to me…I can help you,” I said, trying to hold him steady as his spirit floundered wildly, determined as he was not to be found. 

“I cannot leave you!” he begged, “I need to protect you!”

I explained that he would be able to protect me better if first of all he went back to his spiritual Home …“and you could get some new, clean clothes (he looked like a ragamuffin) and a good meal,”….and it worked a treat.  With me holding him steady ‘this end’ and my white guides encouraging him from ‘the other’,  he made it home for a truly White Christmas.  Afterwards my guides explained he was a ‘conquistador’ who had been protecting a castle when he died (hence the canonballs?) A conquistador was a Spanish or Portuguese explorer-soldier from the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries.

He had been one of the many hundreds of lost souls sent my way over the past weeks, most of whom returned happily to the other side.  Occasionally though, some prefer to stay close to me and hide in my energy field, so stay undetected for days at a time.  I had been aware of something dragging me down spiritually for 2 days (they bring their emotional baggage of fear, shock, hatred etc. depending on their personalities) and was most grateful for the canonball and slamming door alerting me awake in time to see my ‘protector’ trying to stay hidden!

On his way out of my earthly space my soldier called back ‘Bonita’, which I assumed was his Spanish name.  When I looked this up I not only found it is a girl’s name but is also Spanish for ‘pretty’.  I think my conquistador had a little crush on me! 🙂

Supermarket ghost helps us with our shopping!

Mum studied her list over and over as we made good progress with our shopping  – a lean roll of pork from the cheery butcher straight from the tv advert, a custard tart naughtily and carefully stashed in the trolley – then we came to the conundrum.  Mum and Dad hadn’t tasted this supermarket’s own make delicious pasta with ricotta, spinach and cheese that I’d suggested for tea along with a large, healthy salad. There were large packets on a ‘buy one get one free’ offer but perhaps this was too much for three and I was not sure of dad’s enthusiasm for the stuff …We’d think about it and come back.

Ten minutes later we returned to the pasta section. “These little packets are the ones I usually get for myself, but obviously they’re a single serving….” I said to Mum. Then, in the quietness of our deserted aisle there was a sudden crash at our feet.  Mum’s hand flew to her heart as she sucked in her breath.“What was that?” A medium sized packet of their latest offer of ricotta, spinach and cheese pasta had landed on the lower shelf where we had been rummaging, as if to say ‘try me; I’m the perfect solution!’

Immediately, my face tingled as it does when there is a spiritual being within a few feet and I realised there was a man standing beside us by the name of Bill.  He told me that he had wandered in with some of the 100’s of holidaymakers swarming through the doors this August. Recognising from my aura that I was someone who might be of interest to him, he had been eavesdropping on our conversation and ‘helpfully’  attracted our attention to this new range of pasta by knocking it off a higher shelf! Who can be afraid of ghosts when they are so kind? (Although he was sorry to have startled Mum!) Once back at my parents’ home, I helped him safely on his way to the haven of the other side, but not before asking him a little about himself.

Time to Go Home

“I’ve been watching over my daughter-in-law and William and Jenny,” he explained. “She brought the kids on holiday alone, separated as she is from my son. Quite sad really.” He realised he would be better equipped to help his family once he had been safely reunited with his mother (whose name sounded like ‘Cara’) and off he went, very happily, to the accompanying song “Knock knock knocking on Heaven’s Door” ! Every spirit rescue swells my heart with happiness!

As I record this in my diary my face once more buzzes with spirit visitation and a few of his mates (‘missing from home’ – ie. who also became stuck after their deaths) are re-directed to me for a lift Home!  Amazingly, this proves that there is a great admin team working hard on the other side and that they obviously have some way of transporting these lost souls to me from any given part of the country! At the same time I learnt that Bill the pasta lover was in the building trade and died from a stroke 5 years previously.  He is now very happy that he can better influence the care and direction of his daughter-in-law and grandchildren’s welfare from the enlightenment of home – No longer frustrated as a ghost stuck on earth.  His concern for his daughter is what kept him here too long (3 months is about the limit, before the ‘way home’ becomes foggy) Imagine time passing and his family growing up and leaving for the light when it was each of THEIR turns to pass on – They would have been devastated to find him missing from home!

After going for the medium sized packet of pasta recommended by Bill, Mum and I stopped to get the carrots, but not before asking Bill – ‘Should we get the large bag, or the organic…what do you think? ‘  🙂

Crystal dowsers swing by themselves!

Just back from a glorious week in Cornwall visiting my parents, but never off duty!  My dad had accumulated over 300 lost souls in his energy field due to chronic neck and shoulder pain (which was relieved after I’d cleared them) and mum had to be cleared every evening due to alzheimers disease attracting them to her (she kept asking how many people were in the house as she could obviously sense them). It’s handy for them having a ghost truster (not buster!) for a daughter but if anyone is suffering from stress, whether it be physical in dad’s case or mental in mum’s, then over time they will attract lost souls on a like-attracts-like basis, especially if they have the psychic gene so the lost ones know where to gather to get help!

The most unusual case of lost souls making themselves known to me was, however, when we visited an indoor market in Truro.  Attracted by the New Age look of one stall I stepped inside to have a nosey at all the goodies within and noticed a circular stand with at least twelve assorted crystal dowsers displayed, hanging by their individual chains.  Within a few seconds of entering the shop, both the quartz crystal dowsers on the stand started to swing neatly forwards and backwards….apparently all by themselves!  The owner of the stall wandered in just afterwards and I pointed this out to her, explaining that I specialise in helping trapped souls, who I suspected had gathered in her shop for help.

“Go ahead!” she said, sweeping her hand in the air while she carried on chatting.  (It is so refreshing to be able to do my thing without people thinking I am potty!) I took my OWN dowser from my pocket and picked up and released eleven lost souls, including a caravener, a yachtsman, a homeless person and a nymphomaniac 🙂 ! (I wasn’t tempted to comment on the latter’s attraction to the market!) The spirits themselves had obviously gathered together and used their combined kinetic energies to cause the quartz crystal dowsers to swing. 

View from my parents’ house, Marazion, Cornwall 2012

It is interesting to note that it was only the quartz pendulums that responded.  Quartz is known to amplify the energy field of the area in which it resides.  As well as powering the first radio’s and watches it has been revered for hundreds of years by Native American Indians and Mexican natives believed the spirits of quartz were the souls of the dead.  Is it any wonder that in crystal healing it is known as the Master Healer…?

Ghostly C19th soldier spills rum on my Christmas cake!

Every week I’ve carefully spooned a teaspoon of rum onto my homemade Christmas cake (the first I’ve ever made) and this weekend I carefully balanced the rim of the bottle on the teaspoon to do the same.  Whoops!  Some invisible being suddenly nudged my elbow, causing at least 2 tablespoons to splosh all over it.  I laughed it off, thinking the family would be in for a boozy surprise come Christmas day…

I joined my husband in another room for a cuppa, laughingly telling him that ‘someone’ was having a joke but he was pre-occupied with reading a book named Rifleman Costello (1841) about a friend of Costello’s, Tom Crawley, who thought he had seen the ghost of a Portugese soldier who had been killed at the Battle of Busaco during the Peninsular War. 

As I always do, I took out my dowser to check that the said ghost – if he did exist – was resting in peace and suddenly my husband gasped, having read on…  “IS he?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “so I’ve just passed him over, along with 6 other Portugese soldiers from that war who didn’t make it Home.

“Well listen to this…‘ he continued, reading from the book: ‘Tom Crawley recognised the ghost  soldier as he was a popular  Portugese who used to sell rum to the troops!‘ 

So it was the ghost of  that rum seller who had nudged my arm, leading me to find and help not only his lost spirit but many others:  I then dowsed the Battle of Busaco, as I had not heard of it before so never checked for casualties left behind, and sure enough 16 more lost souls were lifted, so grateful to have been found after over 200 years in purgatory.

When I also dowsed the ‘Peninsular War’ a huge amount of physical and emotional stress was removed from the land associated with the war and another 22 soldiers followed.  One of them looked as though he had material or some sort of garb draped about his head and shoulders so I assumed he was an Arab, but Michael said in the Peninsula War people used anything they could get their hands on such as leopard skins for example. I never cease to be educated – history was never my best subject at school!

I then spent another 20 mts clearing deeper levels of stress from the lands on which ‘atrocities’ were committed – on not only the physical but the emotional, spiritual, psychic and even higher layers.  In between these layers were pockets of lost souls amounting to another 17 earthbound souls who had been fighting the French.

In summary, the atrocities committed during the Peninsular war left energy blockages in the land, with lost souls sandwiched between.  The British and others were fighting the French as Napolean was trying to put one of his relatives on the throne of Spain so that he would control the whole area.  I had already dowsed Napolean’s army in the past, which explains why I found no ghosts on the French side!

When we tuck into our boozy Christmas cake then we will have to toast all those who were risen to new life all because of an ‘unknown’ rum seller 🙂 guided to my kitchen through the law of attraction!

Outside security light, flashing tv topbox, moving objects – anything to attract attention to their plights!

Life as a spirit rescuer takes up a lot of my time but having been to my neice’s wedding in Somerset and then to see some lovely friends in Wales at least I balanced it with lots of rest and play….and helping more spirits of course!  Just to keep my blogs up to date, as I have so many other commitments at the moment, the following is a brief record of some of my ‘adventures with spirit’ over one week last year….

The Wedding:  A wonderful time of love and sharing with family we only get to see a few times a year if we’re lucky!

The Bed and Breakfast: Apart from rock hard bed and pillows like flat slabs, the night was destined to be  a sleepless ones as lost souls from all around (the unfamiliar) area flocked to find safe passage into the light.  I don’t know who tells them where to find their portal to Home, but they invariably choose 3 am to call! Not only did the security light come on outside the complex but such a large batch arrived in the surreal burst of energy that the television set top box flashed a dozen times – like an ambulance siren – which lit up the room while they were transmuted onwards and upwards: ‘375 souls from Cheddar Fitzpaine to Bridgwater‘ enlightened my angels.  Placed  dowser back on side locker and tried to get some sleep but within a few minutes heard the dowser’s chain moving on the glass top (their only way of alerting me).  Leaned over, picked it up and moved another ‘3 stragglers’ over to the light.

Breakfast: Yummy full English.  Asked whether we’d slept well and hard bed aside couldn’t bring myself to tell the lovely, hard working couple what had happened.  Drove on up to the Brecon Beacons, over the Toll Bridge, the energies of several car accident victims brush my cheeks like an invisible veil along the way.  Feel the sorrow, loss and confusion of losing their lives in such an abrupt manner.

Arrive at our friends wonderful smallholding, set down a winding and narrow track.  Lovely welcome and after depositing our luggage for a couple of nights stay, invited to help feed the many animals, including hens, two goats and even a turkey and his two concubines (discovered that a male turkey is called a Stag).  Erica LOVES animals and works tirelessly putting them out in the fields, cleaning their pens, bringing them in, feeding them…I lost a few pounds, donning my (borrowed) wellies and dashing from field to barn and back again to keep her company, all the while chatting about her joys and her inevitable losses.

2.22 am:   Despite being completely zonked on heavenly mattress and pillows, awake with  a start!  Fumble for dowser in pitch black (quite adept at finding it with eyes closed now), heart still beating wildly with the shock.  With eyes still closed, allow dowser to do its thing.  Approximately 5 mts later, told by helper angels that another ‘350 earthbound spirits’ – but this time ANIMALS – passed through the portal of light, including a fox, goats, sheep and turkeys’….no doubt due to escorting and listening to Erica’s loving tales of her animal friends that afternoon (like attracts like)!

4 am: Awoke from a nightmare that our daughter was running across the sands (and I moved a group of 4 women to let her through saying ‘excuse me, my daughter has to swim out to that boat at sea.  Let her through please!’) but she fell flat on her face on the shoreline and many rushed to her aid, including me…..Now wide awake, once more grab dowser and this time ‘375 more lost souls from the sea of life needed a lift, from scuba divers to fisherman from ‘the Lizard to Weymouth’ .  Told husband come morning and he said guiltily ‘oh Laura rang earlier and said she and Leigh had been on a shipping vessel with his uncle yesterday afternoon’ (And he had forgotten to pass this message on!) Having  been at the wedding in Somerset they’d decided to make their way back to Nottingham via several friends and relatives.  Whilst on that shipping vessel our daughter had no doubt acted as a conduit to bring lost souls to me, as she has done many times, even when backpacking on the other side of the world in Australia…

– “Now that’s another story!”

How earthbound spirits can give you headaches, paranoia and worse!

This week a client cancelled her appointment with me the evening before, as she had ‘double booked’.  My husband usually throws his hands in the air when this happens as there are always plenty of others waiting in line to take her place…

This lady is hyper sensitive and it doesn’t help that she has a ley line running through her home – an energetic earth ‘artery’ that acts as a conduit to bring lost ones along the electrical current and into her space.  Over the years I have cleared 100’s of lost souls who congregate in her home – even spirit animals attached to her cats – as well as given her numerous one-to-one sessions to lift her spirits (ha ha) so that she has not needed a ‘clearing’ for many months.

The next day, however, she left a phone message explaining ‘I didn’t want to upset my friend by coming to you instead’  (!)… ‘She has lots of problems but having spent a couple of hours in her company I feel really unwell with dizziness and a headache…and I think the house if ‘full’ again and I really do need to book another appointment’… (Having cancelled many times in the same manner)….I was cooking a teatime meal when my husband also heard the message being left….‘oh no you don’t!‘ he said, closing the door so that I couldn’t hear the rest of the message…‘just leave it….you can’t be at her beck and call every hour of the day’…etc.

But within seconds my face tingled with spirit connection, rather like a water bomb of minute droplets landing on my head.  I always keep my dowser handy so surreptitiously took it from my jeans pocket and allowed it to take up the intake of lost souls and transmute them to the light.  I’ve become quite adept at stirring the curry or answering the door with one hand and hanging on to my furiously spinning dowser with the other, and was still clinging on 10 minutes later when my two guests arrived…

But it was worth it! 750 lost souls were released during those 10 mts, all  diverted to me via the client who left the message, and she also felt so much better afterwards.  Having been in the company of someone who drains all her energy and piles all her problems onto her, it had caused sudden feelings of dizziness and ‘ungroundedness’, usually caused by lost souls (and other emotional debris) attaching to her ‘roots’.  Just by hearing part of her message the lost souls were transferred to my own ‘mind waves’ – rather like electricity travels down a pathway of energy.  The spirits are inevitably looking for the portal of light that will transport them back to their original source.

If, therefore, you are a high-energy or very sensitive person and ungrounded at the same time, you can attract ‘ghosts’ into your energy field at any stage of your development, from childhood (I have many children on my books) through to old age (my oldest client being 92).  Blockages caused by stress and/or spirits in the emotional, spiritual or psychic levels of the aura can eventually lead to depression and physical dis-ease.

When I had post-natal depression cured by Electro-Convulsive Treatment (allowing an electrical conduit for the spirits to escape and ushering in my recovery), spent 6 weeks on strong antibiotics in hospital after open-heart surgery that saved my life due to heart disease (contracted at my daughter’s birth), I was taunted by earthbound spirits of the lowest quality – due to my near-dying state – but years later was able to help them leave the dark shadows of their nightmare existence.  My book Never Lose Heart (available via my website www.janehunting.co.uk and Amazon for £7.99) tells the story of how I never, ever, gave up hope.

What was ‘King Kong’ doing in The Earl of Chesterfield pub, Shelford?

On my recent birthday, seven family members enjoyed a lovely Sunday lunch at the Earl of Chesterfield pub in Shelford, Nottinghamshire – but who else was watching us?  Only a week earlier, Mike and I had popped in for something to eat and were bowled over by the welcoming personality of the young owner, Jody.  I felt I could confide in her and mentioned the man ghost I could see leaning over the bar.  He wore a large black hat with a turned up rim and a very long black coat or mackintosh.  I observed him side on for some time and noticed he had a long black pony tail and strands of hair stuck to his wet face.  Unable to stand the suspense any longer, I nipped off to the privacy of the Ladies and ‘hooked on’ to his spirit with the aid of my dowser….Within seconds he took the opportunity to shoot off into the Light and my Spirit Guides told me his name was Mortimer and he had been a ‘ferry man’ over a century before.   Another spirit took the opportunity to fly across and with this came the name ‘Moorcroft’.

Unbeknown to me, a long lane leads from alongside the Church in Shelford to the River Trent and in days gone by there was indeed a ferry crossing there.  The Trent is now too deep and fast flowing in this area but there is a plaque naming some of the ferry men from the Victorian era onwards.  Mortimer’s name does not appear here as he lived in the 18th century, before records were made. As I stood in his shoes (so to speak) I was aware of someone behind me about to strike him over the head in anger with a large metal object, causing him to fall into the Trent and drown.  His spirit could not rest and he was obviously drawn to the nearest pub (literally) to drown his sorrows.  Jody was beside herself with excitement when I gave her this information.  She hadn’t known about Mortimer but often saw a more modern spirit man in the bar and was fairly sure he was connected to the Moorcroft family.  As she told us about the ghostly goings-on since she and her partner had taken on the pub several months earlier one ghost after another approached the bar.  I could hardly listen to her as they were crowding in on me, realising I could help them…

Jody mentioned that her brother in law had ‘recently passed’ after a road accident so I quietly asked my Spirit Guides whether they could send her a message of reassurance that he was safe on the other side. The reply I received was a strange ‘Ding Dong!‘  Her face lit up, hand to her mouth, as Jody exclaimed that he had been a Postman…Spirit sure does have a wonderful way with words!

Once home, I moved on the at least 300 more spirits and cleared the whole site of a lot of physical and emotional stress, held in the foundations, the walls and the earth surrounding the pub, as well as the sufferings of the lost souls – those who had failed to return home after their deaths:  These included fishermen, soldiers from the Military, people who had been hung, someone who died of cyanide poisoning, a safe breaker calling himself  ‘King Kong’ (!)….peasants, someone wearing a ‘fascinater’ and ‘mad folk’ from an assylum.  I also heard the words ‘Met Office issues a severe gale warning’. Perhaps this was someone who predicted the weather or maybe it was a warning of more to come?

Back to my birthday lunch a week later, I whispered to Jody as she greeted us that I’d cleared 300 spirits and hoped it was now quieter? ‘Far from it!’ she laughed…‘If anything it has got worse!‘ : The dining tables had been set the evening before and when Staff arrived that morning ALL THE WHITE SALT AND PEPPER POTS ON ALL THE TABLES HAD MYSTERIOUSLY BEEN LAID ON THEIR SIDES…THERE WAS ALSO A RING OF SOIL ON OUR TABLE! Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed my birthday, the spirit world knowing that I had received their message and would shortly act on it!

Happy Birthday to me 🙂

There were obviously more lost souls to find (the pots had not been knocked over randomly, rather had been lain on their sides gently.) and the circle of earth could indicate protection – or the never ending circle of life…Could this be a ‘thankyou’ from the spirits I had already helped? I needed to look deeper into the well of energy underneath the pub.  Then it clicked:  The circle of earth could represent the top of a well!…I recalled Jody talking of one but was far too busy trying to reassure the spirits queueing behind me to take in what she said.  I tuned in to look for such a well and saw a group of monks or similar standing to the left behind a well with their heads covered in hoods, ringing a bell and crying ‘unclean..unclean!’   Could there have been bodies thrown down the well? Sure enough, six monks were trapped in the ‘black water’ in the well and the angels helped me disperse the ‘stinking’ vibrational energies condusive to evil doings of the past, in order to free them.  I have tuned in to the pub on a daily basis and still spirits are pouring in from the villages around the Trent – turning the Earl of Chesterfield into a clearing house for the lost souls.  Sorry Jody! It won’t last forever – and think of all those happy souls being reunited with their loved ones on the other side!   It is interesting to note that water is a conductor of energy…spirit energy included…            

What secrets did the haunted Oxburgh Hall reveal?

Whilst on our recent weekend in Norfolk we came across the National Trust’s Oxburgh Hall and our hearts lifted: the perfect place to  utilise our annual membership.  After parking up, we joined a long queue at the gate when a car alarm sounded from the otherwise deserted car park on our left and I quietly moved over 6 lost souls who had obviously come to greet us! We were stunned by the magnificent hall with its moat and wonderful grounds and were swept inside with all the other visitors, taking in the huge portraits of the Bedingfield family’s 500 year history, huge carved fireplaces and lushly decorated rooms.  We were drawn to the massive windows and enchanting vista of the garden and estate and as we stood gazing I jumped to feel the sting of someone slap a man around the face (somewhere in the mists of history) in that very spot.   I sneaked my dowser between myself and the window and passed a man over who described himself as ‘a coxwain’.  I whispered this information to Mike and he said this was remarkable as he had just been studying a list of naval officers connected with the family: “A coxwain“, he said, “was a petty officer in the days of flagships and later I believe on submarines and the like…” 

After being shown through a secret door concealed in a huge bookcase I wandered over to admire a massive, intracately carved fireplace in the next room and as I stood gazing at it I was suddenly engulfed with such a feeling of terror that my eyes whelled up with tears of shock and grief. This sort of thing didn’t usually happen to me as I could normally handle whatever lost souls experienced.  I could only grasp my throat and hurry from the room whilst Mike explained to the Volunteer that his wife was a ‘little psychic’. She frowned and said that only moments before another lady had also hurried away from the fireplace! We later caught up with this lady, who lives in a haunted cottage, (now cleared by me) and also felt that something dreadful had happened in that room. I soon regained my composure and we completed the tour of the house, including a bedroom that also had emotionally sad imprints and a Priest Hole which was, surprisingly, light and clean of energy (This is where Catholic Priests were hidden by the family during Henry VIII’s Reformation, under the threat of death if they were discovered.) When I was able to escape to the privacy of the (outside) Ladies, I released 12 lost souls from those rooms, one by the name of Lady Caroline.  She thanked me from the bottom of her heart for helping her, implying that she had lost her infant, strangled at birth…nothing sinister, the poor child choked by the umbilical cord.  (Perhaps why I clutched my throat?) ‘I lost my head’ she added. I felt a great empathy with her as my own daughter would have suffered this same fate if we had not been so fortunate to live in this 21st century of medical care…

We decided to return the next day and explore the gardens and grounds.  That night I was (typically) awoken at 4 am by the hot water heater in the ensuite ‘boiling’ and passed on another 38 lost souls who had followed me home from the House and area who had gathered in the room. Untypically, I felt very emotional again and had to clear myself of another 61 who had jumped aboard!

The next day we did a quick tour of the Hall again to see if the energies were any lighter and as expected there was nothing dark about it this time.  As I passed into that same room my cheekbones tingled (an indication that a spirit is interacting with me, this time from the other side) and I swung round to see a portrait of a mature Bedingfield lady on the wall and knew immediately that she was talking to me when she said: ‘Thank you so much for what you have done….There are many secrets woven into the fabric of this great building…’ – and then she returned again to spirit. We shared a joke when seconds later I overheard a male volunteer say to a visitor: ‘Oh yes, this home has always had a happy atmosphere’…

After enjoying the woodlands and moat we popped into the tearoom for a cuppa, although Mike was eager to move on as we had planned to visit another special place enroute back to Nottingham. To our right there was a large table of at least 16 people, laughing and joking over their refreshments and coffees.  Despite this, I was surprised and slightly amused to see a red-cheeked overweight ghost lady in cook’s uniform rush up to me from the left of our little table, dragging behind her a pale young girl dressed as a scullery maid.  ‘Thank goodness we got ‘ere in time!’ she puffed…(showing that word gets around in the spirit world) ‘I will help you in a moment,’ I said kindly, ‘could you just take a seat until I get back to the car…‘  She was ‘ever so grateful’ and  very polite and she and Daisy sat down on a long bench, waiting. ‘This is nice,” she said to Daisy, patting her hand reassuringly. “Reminds me of Christmas in the big ‘ouse!”  She must have been referring to the raucous cameraderie at the long table – and perhaps the anticipation of opening a ‘Christmas’ present!  Mike came back from the shop to rejoin me and while we chatted I (once again!) suddenly whelled up.  This time because I saw the cook take a white handkerchief and dab the maid’s face.  What she said brought tears of empathy and gave huge insights to the understanding of their predicament. ‘Wipe your face Daisy…You’re going home to see your MUM!‘

(To be continued in my next Blog)

Dad sees Mum’s Guardian Angel!

Last week, my dad was unable to sleep and decided to go downstairs and watch television.  It was 3 am as he opened the door to their bedroom and, lifting his eyes, he stopped in his tracks.  Standing at the end of the long corridor was, in his words, ‘a twelve year old caucasian girl wearing the feather robes of a Maori . They were peacock feathers,’ he said, ‘and she was completely surrounded by a golden glow…’  WOW!  My Dad is a big strong chap, ex-Army Physical Training Corps, and what he says goes.  There was no reason to suppose he would doubt his own eyes. ‘Because of what you do,’ he added, ‘I wasn’t frightened and was about to say ‘hello’ when she disappeared again, just like that!’

We were visiting my parents’ home in Cornwall and I took the above photo of the magical FULL MOON from the bedroom window, overlooking the sea.  I decided to investigate and asked spirit who the young girl was.  The answer came back as LOIS and the penny dropped.  Ten or so years earlier, whilst asking for the names of my parents’ guardian angels, Mum’s angel had danced her way onto a stage, on tip-toe.  She danced a perfect pirouette and this showed me that Mum’s energy was then light and joyful and that she perfectly executed her role on life’s stage, with discipline and hard work.  Her Angel’s name was given then as ELOIS. Taking the E away showed me that mum was not quite herself now.  Perhaps the E stood for Energy.  Our Guardian Angels are a reflection of our own personalities and now that Mum is older and not as much in control of her thoughts and routine, Lois came to my father as a young girl.  She is still feisty (as in the Maori’s) and peacocks represent pride as well as beauty. It is very rare to see an angel, let alone the angel who watches over your wife, and I believe this was to reassure him and help him discipline his own mind to his wife’s ‘change down in gear’.

Many moons ago, when our children were small and my husband was struggling through university in Glasgow, I also had the honour of seeing his Guardian Angel! Interestingly, he is quite religious and prays constantly for his family, and his angel reflected this too.  I awoke at 2 am one morning to see a golden light hovering above him.  I looked closer and in this fire I could make out the cherubic, innocent but highly intelligent face of a tiny angel – just its face. Just as you might see depicted in Victorian churches! Behind the ears were much more intense vibrations that seemed to represent wings.  With this intense feeling of love and perfection that stirred my heart and soul I received the simple message it was conveying to my husband, via me.  ‘Everthing will be okay’ … The angel disappeared again and I had amnesia for 3 whole days!  It was as though a switch suddenly came on and I remembered again…”I saw your guardian Angel the other night!” I exclaimed, and had to tell him at least twenty times, so delighted was he.  And everything was alright.  He passed his degree with ‘flying’ colours!

It is obvious to me now then that our personal angels are a representative of our beliefs, desires, habits and personalities reflected back to us by the light.  They are there to guard and guide us, to bring good news, to warn us of adversities or to save us from catastrophe but most of all to LOVE us! One angel reading I did for a lady recently described her as a ‘carpenter’.  This doesn’t necessarily mean she will carve things out of wood, but that she can create or carve out a future for herself. I knew nothing of her career (she was studying medicine but had recently had to drop out due to illness) but just after the reading and healing details of a ‘carpentry class’ was put into her path, for which she enrolled – so who knows!!  I love tuning into new babies to find out what their specific qualities are and generally speaking this comes to fruition.  So you see, my work with the spirit world is not all doom and gloom!

Why was the17th century spirit Lady in The Chequers Pub, Norfolk on Friday 13th?

It happened to be Friday the 13th July when our landlady said we might be lucky to get a meal if we arrived at the 400 year old Chequers Inn – a short stroll from The Thatched House in Norfolk  – at 6.30 pm and smiled nicely at the girls behind the bar, and it worked!  Nobody had yet arrived to fill the 30 or so seats one side of the heavily beamed pub and we were  grateful to be shown to a small 2-seater table, even though it was end-on to the bar.  Having ordered a meal, Mike supping a pint of the delicious house ale, we looked forward to an evening of togetherness, celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary.

(What was it I said about ‘no body’?) Determined as I was to leave my work at home, just for the weekend, I tried not to notice the pale face, round red cheeks and black and white stripes of a ghostly figure determined to invade our romantic space.  ‘I think it’s a clown?‘ I frowned at Michael, telling the lost soul behind the bar that I would help him later….However, more details morphed into a well-to-do Lady of an earlier century, with rosebud cheeks, a powdered wig, and a voloptuous stripey dress.  She was understandably inquisitive when she realised that I could see her, even reluctantly, and to draw attention to herself even more she walked right through me from the bar  – a strange sensation, rather like silvery cobwebs sliding through my energy field….not the cold shiver one might expect. 

Suddenly another lost spirit dashed through the wall at the front of the pub, dragging a woman spirit behind him…and rather amusingly, clutching a ‘gert great marra’ (marrow) under his arm, which was obviously too precious to leave behind!  What is remarkable is the lost ones’ ability to know where to get help.  Among the general dissaray there was a man with a long grey moustache dressed in tweed plus-fours – Michael said they are worn for shooting.

My Lady seemed so well-to-do compared with the poor country folk. Now hovering to my left, she thrust a drawstring purse into my face and pulled out a large gold coin: ‘She’s trying to bribe me!‘ I said to Michael, telling her that I promised to help her later on, and would she just step back for a moment, ‘PLEASE!’  Suddenly all became clearer as her last moments flashed before my eyes: she had been shot in her left shoulder by a highwayman on the road to Watton, who had robbed her!  Having made her story known, she admired my red painted fingernails (!!) and stepped back, taking it upon herself to keep the other little lost spirit children(playing some sort of game on the floor with stones) away from our table as we finished our meal.  Later, I caught a glimpse of her with an ‘urchin’ over her knee, smacking his bare backside, after he tried to snatch the remains of Michael’s steak from his plate!

Chequers Inn

When Becky arrived with a smile to clear our plates away, I commented on how empty the place was (on the physical plane at least!) and she said it was most unusual as Friday was normally their busiest day!  I couldn’t resist asking whether anyone had ever seen any ghosts there and to my surprise, instead of the usual ‘don’t go there: it’s too scarey’ response she told us of a soldier in uniform that had been seen at the door and a drinker who was reluctant to leave when the Landlord locked up one night, who disappeared into thin air.  After I told her a little about myself she was keen to buy a copy of Never Lose Heart and asked me to leave it behind the bar to collect when she was next on duty, bless her! She also told me of the ghost of a man in her family home that both she and her little sister often sensed walking up beside their beds (I heard ‘ammonia’ from spirit) and how her mother had once chastised her father for leaving his working clothes in their bedroom when she awoke one night (they are pig farmers) – but the ‘pig’ smell just de-materialised again. As Becky spoke these words I asked spirit above for something tangible to give her (having promised her I would look into it and let her know the outcome) and I was shown a sweet being unwrapped….‘It’s a Werthers’ I said to her and, before I could ask whether that meant anything to her, her eyes welled up with joyful emotion. ‘It’s my grandfather!’ she cried, and handing her the table napkin I apologised if I had upset her, but he was sending his love down to her….At which stage I experienced a whoosh of white light from head to toe, which is spirit’s way of affirming a fact….  ‘That’s wonderful’, she said, ‘he always had Werthers on him, always!’ She and her sister had memories of his tall desk with a big bowl of the sweets on top, and he would always offer them one.

The Thatched House

That night, back at our b&b, I released many lost souls, including my Lady from the 17th Century, whose name was Maeve.  She was greeted warmly by Spirit, who said she was ‘courageous’ in standing up to the highwayman – as well as attracting me to the plight of what turned out to be many more lost souls in the pub and area.  Of the spirit children, one had been teething at the time of her death, another grew up to be a soldier and fought in Normandy (Perhaps the  soldier Becky had mentioned, visiting his old home, where 3 houses had been before the newest part of the pub in which we sat had been built.)  A third child died of tuberculosis (Paterson) and a fourth said, sadly, that he was ‘William’s son…Dug my grave’ … There was a ‘simpleton, who died in a ditch’ and an ‘Anthony (Anton) Fraser, 2nd Rifles/Dragoon Guards…Splattered across Agincourt …They rode roughshod all over me!..Campaign…Get my rifle  Get my rifle!’  (As with many trapped spirits, he was perpetually reliving his last moments.)  A female relative called him from the other side and he cried in amazement…‘She comes!  A lamp! She leadeth me through Still waters…’“Is there amyone else who needs help?” I asked and I heard the name ‘Walter’.  “Walter?  Oh yes!…. ‘Help William’ he reminded me, following on from my conversation with Becky earlier and the lost soul who wandered their home.  I hooked on to William’s spirit with my dowser and found myself conversing with him: ‘How do?‘ he asked politely. ‘G’na help me?‘ In a second or so this pig man, smelling of ammonia, was safely reunited with Walter (an uncle in Becky’s family?) and, comically, 3 little pigs followed on his tail, two of which were ‘Fatima’ and ‘Ermantrude’!  There were no more spirits in her home but I was shown a heron (or was it a crane?) taking off, perhaps of some significance to her or her family?  I filled with white light and scanned both The Chequers Pub and her home and all was at peace once more.  However, my belly was very cold, so I scanned myself and found that 4 more had jumped into my own energy field: a child in a cot, another in calipers, an elderly woman with missing teeth and a ‘drummer boy from Aukland’.  Despite sleeping like a log in our voluptuous brass bed, I was awoken twice more before dawn to help late-comers who poured from the local area, Friday the 13th obviously being their lucky day too! 

Why was the17th century spirit Lady in The Chequers Pub, Norfolk on Friday 13th?

It happened to be Friday the 13th July when our landlady said we might be lucky to get a meal if we arrived at the 400 year old Chequers Pub – a short stroll from The Thatched House in Norfolk  – at 6.30 pm and smiled nicely at the girls behind the bar, and it worked!  Nobody had yet arrived to fill the 30 or so seats one side of the heavily beamed pub and we were  grateful to be shown to a small 2-seater table, even though it was end-on to the bar.  Having ordered a meal, Mike supping a pint of the delicious house ale, we looked forward to an evening of togetherness, celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary.

(What was it I said about ‘no body’?) Determined as I was to leave my work at home, just for the weekend, I tried not to notice the pale face, round red cheeks and black and white stripes of a ghostly figure determined to invade our romantic space.  ‘I think it’s a clown?‘ I frowned at Michael, telling the lost soul behind the bar that I would help him later….However, more details morphed into a well-to-do Lady of an earlier century, with rosebud cheeks, a powdered wig, and a voloptuous stripey dress.  She was understandably inquisitive when she realised that I could see her, even reluctantly, and to draw attention to herself even more she walked right through me from the bar  – a strange sensation, rather like silvery cobwebs sliding through my energy field….not the cold shiver one might expect.  

Suddenly another lost spirit dashed through the wall at the front of the pub, dragging a woman spirit behind him…and rather amusingly, clutching a ‘gert great marra’ (marrow) under his arm, which was obviously too precious to leave behind!  What is remarkable is the lost ones’ ability to know where to get help.  Among the general dissaray there was a man with a long grey moustache dressed in tweed plus-fours – Michael said they are worn for shooting.

My Lady seemed so well-to-do compared with the poor country folk. Now hovering to my left, she thrust a drawstring purse into my face and pulled out a large gold coin: ‘She’s trying to bribe me!‘ I said to Michael, telling her that I promised to help her later on, and would she just step back for a moment, ‘PLEASE!’  Suddenly all became clearer as her last moments flashed before my eyes: she had been shot in her left shoulder by a highwayman on the road to Watton, who had robbed her!  Having made her story known, she admired my red painted fingernails (!!) and stepped back, taking it upon herself to keep the other little lost spirit children (playing some sort of game on the floor with stones) away from our table as we finished our meal.  Later, I caught a glimpse of her with an ‘urchin’ over her knee, smacking his bare backside, after he tried to snatch the remains of Michael’s steak from his plate!

Chequers Inn

When Becky arrived with a smile to clear our plates away, I commented on how empty the place was (on the physical plane at least!) and she said it was most unusual as Friday was normally their busiest day!  I couldn’t resist asking whether anyone had ever seen any ghosts there and to my surprise, instead of the usual ‘don’t go there: it’s too scarey’ response she told us of a soldier in uniform that had been seen at the door and a drinker who was reluctant to leave when the Landlord locked up one night, who disappeared into thin air.  After I told her a little about myself she was keen to buy a copy of Never Lose Heart and asked me to leave it behind the bar to collect when she was next on duty, bless her! She also told me of the ghost of a man in her family home that both she and her little sister often sensed walking up beside their beds (I heard ‘ammonia’ from spirit) and how her mother had once chastised her father for leaving his working clothes in their bedroom when she awoke one night (they are pig farmers) – but the ‘pig’ smell just de-materialised again. As Becky spoke these words I asked spirit above for something tangible to give her (having promised her I would look into it and let her know the outcome) and I was shown a sweet being unwrapped….‘It’s a Werthers’ I said to her and, before I could ask whether that meant anything to her, her eyes welled up with joyful emotion. ‘It’s my grandfather!’ she cried, and handing her the table napkin I apologised if I had upset her, but he was sending his love down to her….At which stage I experienced a whoosh of white light from head to toe, which is spirit’s way of affirming a fact….  ‘That’s wonderful’, she said, ‘he always had Werthers on him, always!’  She and her sister had memories of his tall desk with a big bowl of the sweets on top, and he would always offer them one.

The Thatched House

That night, back at our b&b, I released many lost souls, including my Lady from the 17th Century, whose name was Maeve.  She was greeted warmly by Spirit, who said she was ‘courageous’ in standing up to the highwayman – as well as attracting me to the plight of what turned out to be many more lost souls in the pub and area.  Of the spirit children, one had been teething at the time of her death, another grew up to be a soldier and fought in Normandy (Perhaps the  soldier Becky had mentioned, visiting his old home, where 3 houses had been before the newest part of the pub in which we sat had been built.)  A third child died of tuberculosis (Paterson) and a fourth said, sadly, that he was ‘William’s son…Dug my grave’ … There was a ‘simpleton, who died in a ditch’ and an ‘Anthony (Anton) Fraser, 2nd Rifles/Dragoon Guards…Splattered across Agincourt …They rode roughshod all over me!..Campaign…Get my rifle  Get my rifle!’  (As with many trapped spirits, he was perpetually reliving his last moments.)  A female relative called him from the other side and he cried in amazement…‘She comes!  A lamp! She leadeth me through Still waters…’“Is there amyone else who needs help?” I asked and I heard the name ‘Walter’.  “Walter?  Oh yes!…. ‘Help William’ he reminded me, following on from my conversation with Becky earlier and the lost soul who wandered their home.  I hooked on to William’s spirit with my dowser and found myself conversing with him: ‘How do?‘ he asked politely. ‘G’na help me?‘ In a second or so this pig man, smelling of ammonia, was safely reunited with Walter (an uncle in Becky’s family?) and, comically, 3 little pigs followed on his tail, two of which were ‘Fatima’ and ‘Ermantrude’!  There were no more spirits in her home but I was shown a heron (or was it a crane?) taking off, perhaps of some significance to her or her family?  I filled with white light and scanned both The Chequers Pub and her home and all was at peace once more.  However, my belly was very cold, so I scanned myself and found that 4 more had jumped into my own energy field: a child in a cot, another in calipers, an elderly woman with missing teeth and a ‘drummer boy from Aukland’.  Despite sleeping like a log in our voluptuous brass bed, I was awoken twice more before dawn to help late-comers who poured from the local area, Friday the 13th obviously being their lucky day too!