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

3 10 2015

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!

21 04 2015

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:

april2015 084

 

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!

3 11 2014

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?

19 06 2014

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

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?!

13 05 2014

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 <3

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





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

14 04 2014

‘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!

15 03 2014

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! 😀

Angel of Light Vortex of Light








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