the special baby who led me to rescue American Rock Star Stevie Ray Vaughan

9 10 2010

With the permission of my lovely neice Louise, I have  published a photo of her special little baby Arthur Edward which is quite amazing.  At only three months old he looks so adult and ‘knowing’ and appears to be guiding the other baby by the shoulder – A perfect photo for a caption competition surely?  The other little chap sports a top which asks ‘will I grow as tall as you?‘ and Arthur could almost be saying ‘come with me and I’ll show you!’  But I could see in Arthur’s eyes that there was something more to this and, just as I suspected, he was leading me to rescue several earthbound spirits who had gathered around him for help! – …..I emailed my neice to tell her that several spirits had flown in via this gesture of my great nephew, mentioning that one had been ‘a jailer’….

(Arthur seen here in the pose that attracted my attention to him)

Three weeks passed and I did some other work for Louise and her family for which she thanked me gratefully, adding ‘did you find anything out about that jailer by the way?’  She was obviously following her own strong intuition to mention this as once a spirit has been helped home and some time has elapsed since it is difficult to get any information about their lives or location etc.  However, no-one was more surprised than me when I asked my spirit guides and they informed me that this little baby had been a ‘compassionate and very nice aide accomplice’ to a  jailer in CINCINATTI 

Now, being an English lady with no knowledge of American geography I wasn’t even sure of the spelling of this place – only vaguely aware that it was somewhere in America – so I googled in the question: “Is there a jail in Cincinatti?”  Not only is there a jail in Cincinatti but the links directed me to a Youtube video of a rock and blues guitarist Lonnie Mack playing ‘Cincinatti Jail’! As  I listened to the song words – and a very depressing jail it appears to be too – another 65 spirits stuck in limbo, who had been in that jail, were helped to leave via my madly swirling dowser!  Good work Arthur Edward!

After rewinding this video several times in order to identify the ‘Stevie’ who  Lonnie Mack is talking about with obvious fondness at the beginning (saying what ‘a very special, thoughtful and spiritual’ person he was) I did a bit of detective work to discover that he was talking about American Guitarist, Singer and Songwriter Stevie Ray Vaughan (1954-1990).  I had a feeling I was being led to yet another trapped spirit here but wasn’t prepared for the speed at which he rushed towards me… ‘whoa….Crazy horses!… and before I knew it he had been safely deposited on the other side

With his American accent, this is what he said to me only moments later! (On the other side, time is not measured in the same way as here and he had landed, settled in and had even had time to shake hands with a certain other rock star, as below!)

“Thanks for rescuin’ ma spirit ma’am!  (Pause) I wandered all over the place playing ma songs”…(then there was another pause and a swirling action and noise of impact…and he laughed ironically “No civil engineers on board!  Couldn’t fix that landin’!)…(Pause) “Please send a big squeeze and hug for ma wife Nora…I was married before and I still love her….he revealed wistfully, but suddenly lightened and burst into rock star mode, lustily singing and playing frantically on his guitar strings: 

“Ghost wri..ters i…n the Skyeeeeeee!” (incredibly, knowing the name of my new book Ghostwriters in the Sky, soon to be published – which includes the rescue of  another American rock star Jim Morrison – “a mate of mine!”) 

Before  putting information on public display I obviously check the facts I’ve been given and after a lot of scrutiny of biographies and various websites I came across the fact that Stevie was married to a LENORA (not Nora, but I think I can be forgiven that mistake!)  in 1979 but they were divorced in 1987.  I found also that he died in a tragic helicopter crash in which all the occupants were killed  (explaining his words above).  All of the others killed in this accident went straight over to the light – which is what most people do – and when I asked Stevie why he hadn’t followed suit he said “I couldn’t leave ma gui-tar strings!”  And now?  “Well ma-am, there’s plenty more where they come from! I can play rock’n’roll til ma heart’s con-tent!”

It is interesting to note that one verse of the original ‘Ghost Riders in the Sky’ by Johnny Cash reads:

‘As the riders loped on by him he heard one call his name’ (Arthur?)
‘If you want to save your soul from Hell a-riding on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today’
(follow the trail home!) ‘or with us you will ride’
Trying to catch the Devil’s herd, across these endless skies’
(being stuck in limbo for eternity!)

“…Yippie yi Ohhhhh…Yippie yi Yaaaaay” came the  combined performances of Vaughan and Morrison who held their beloved gui-tars aloft in celebration of their own personal rescues from those ghostly ‘endless skies’ – and to my delight they were joined by the one and only Johnny Cash (1932- 2003) who smiled warmly at me and said “You won’t know that I gave free concerts inside those earthly jails  ma’am?!”  What an ending!

Finally, imagine my delight when researching the above facts I came across something that Stevie Ray Vaughan had actually said during his lifetime:

‘My brother Jimmie always said I played like I was breaking out of jail’

Would that be Cincinatti Jail by any chance?!  And how could my very special little ‘aide accomplice’ – baby Arthur Edward Smith – have led me to this conclusion  unless it was by spiritual means? He is obviously part of the growing numbers of children being born with special psychic abilities, becoming more advanced as the world lifts from its density and moves back to being a planet of light and LOVE! … “ROCK ON!”….

who got caught with Tony Curtis in the spider’s web?

4 10 2010

Thursday 30th September was a very eventful one for me!  I had jumped awake in the early hours, saw a hairy spider drop down from the ceiling and frantically scooped what turned out to be an imaginary web from my face… Just a dream maybe about the Goddess energy associated with such insects… ‘arachnoids’ my guides just said….Looking this word up I found that  ‘at present, arachnoids are found only on Venus’ – (and Venus is the Goddes of Love!)   Perhaps the following explanation describes a spider’s web? As the name suggests, arachnoids are circular to ovoid features with concentric rings and a complex network of fractures extending outward.’  Maybe this is why spiders are associated with Venus then?  I google the question ‘what is another name for a spider?’ and it comes back as ARACHNID…a slightly different version of ARACHNOID then!

couldn't find a spider in my pics!

A couple of hours later my husband and I were delivering birthday presents to my daughter’s boyfriend, she opened the front door and I walked in – straight into a large and sticky spiders’ web that had invisibly been woven across the entrance!  Yeuk!  I looked up and there was my spider, legs crossed smugly in the corner of the door jam!  Did she fortell the day’s weaving of spirit rescue I wonder?

We didn’t stay long as I had to get back to help a client suffering from fibro-myalgia, who looks and acts as though she is stuck in a straight-jacket of pain.  With the help of angels – who send a loving whoosh of energy down both my legs when I’ve hit the mark with my questions – we got to the root of the reason her otherwise young and healthy body felt unloved to the extent that it was ‘a pain’ for her to drag it along with her.  After lots of energy release from her chakras and meridian lines (energetic lines like a map, cleared in Japanese acupunture to unblock energy at certain points where they cross) and she finally understood that what had happened to her 10 years earlier had a direct and shocking result, not only on the emotional and spiritual  levels, but the pain had worked its way into the physical body of her muscles.  I felt particularly frustrated at the colossal amount of drugs she had been prescribed by allopathic doctors who treat only the symptoms and not the cause….just more side effects and energetic ‘rubbish’ to wade through and try to clear!  She released many 100’s of piggy-backing earthbound souls who had been attracted to her on a like attracts like basis, many of whom had suffered the same extreme and violating pain  she had experienced as a teenager.

Later, a client phoned to say a friend’s child had been admitted to hospital with suspected meningitis.  I immediately dowsed the  little chap and cleared 306 spirits from him, plus the understandable emotional and psychic stress.  10 mts later she phoned to say he was sitting up in his hospital bed, smiling.  The accumulation of stress in a child can often manifest as blinding headaches and/or pain in the head and often behavioural problems and in this boy’s case the release of spirits had thankfully released the pressure on his mind. 

Next to be woven into my day was the announcement that actor Tony Curtis had died (1925-2012) and just as I dowsed for his spirit to check that he had passed safely my dowser flew up into the air and in the next moment he passed over, smiling and ‘waxing his moustache’!  This must surely have been woven into the web as he took along several other spirits who were well and truly  earthbound – he himself had plenty of time to leave and needn’t have taken me up on my offer!  Who were the other celebrities that ‘Curtis the Flirtist with the waxed moustache’ – (as he called himself(!)) described as ‘all on the same wavelength?’….  

(What an amazing flower, taken in my Dad’s garden in Cornwall!)

I could hardly believe my ears when alongside him I also gave a lift to American comic actor and filmmaker Buster Keaton (1895-1966) and English Stand Up Comedian Kenny Everett (1944-1995) and was thrilled to see who was there to greet them all with open arms – it was none other than English-American actor Cary Grant (1904-1986)!  I hadn’t realised what a crazy gang of spirits I would be helping through Venus today!

And it was not all over until the fat spider spins!  I walked into the kitchen to make tea and nearly fell over when a wall of energy suddenly smacked me right in the face.  I had no alternative but to take my dowser in my left hand and see what this was all about….although I had a pretty good idea as this was the third time I have had a feeling of viral vertigo that turns out to be a stack of rescuees.  My dowser spun round and round (just like those ‘circular to ovoid features with concentric rings’, come to think of it!) and on and on, so that I just had to go about my business with one free hand, filling the kettle and putting it on and answering the ring on the doorbell….This time it was the turn of my daughter to step into my own doorway, complete with a ‘pretty please’ smile and a black sack of damp washing to be tumble dried (yet more spinning!) I warned her to beware of the fast spinning crystal in my left hand and she ducked her way to the tumbler, had a cup of tea and a chat and 15 mts later I waved her off with my free hand….and the dowser still went on and on….for a total of 40 full minutes!  And the category came back as ‘Nuclear Waste’ – (The Chernobyl atomic power plant accident caused the death of 2000 people, for one)   And the total was an incredible 3 millions souls….

Even as I fell into bed on that night of 30th September 2010 I was still sending over souls into the light.  500 more, this time, in the category of  ‘loony bin’ … those people who had been mentally disturbed or impared when they died and therefore their spirits did not  have the ability to fly back Home, without a little help from a friend.

ps Norman Wisdom passed straight over after his death today and said to his ex-wife Freda (in the queue waiting for him!) “Hello my darling!”  Despite the tragedy of death, there is always the joy of reunion with loved ones to look forward to!

the disabled little boy who didn’t quite make it into the light

30 09 2010

What do we understand as purgatory?  Last Sunday, following a tough 12 mile sponsored walk in Derbyshire in aid of the British Heart Foundation, I crawled into bed for 11 gloriously deep hours of healing sleep, but come morning felt like a stifflly starched tablecloth must feel, with no control over its normal fluidity, when I threw back the covers and found my body fighting against  my mind’s command to get up! 

Eventually, of course, we shuffled to the bathroom together, got ourselves washed and dressed and made it downstairs.  I congratulated my bones and muscles, and of course my brain, for getting me through yesterday’s FINISHING line  – even if we had come in last,  propped up by my wonderful daughter who had taken my rucksack from me to lighten the load of that last never-ending mile!  We agree it had been worth all the toe stubbing, heart racing, perspiration making, knee and back aching step of the way – and I was proud of my body’s personal achievement in completing the sponsored walk and said a special thank you to my heart, who’d had one of its diseased valves replaced with a clickety mechanical ‘washer’ 25 years previously, thereby saving our life! I also gave special mention to my T6 vertebra, who’d been squashed a couple of summers ago due to our enthusiastic jumping on a trampoline! 

But did one particular little boy’s life of suffering feel like purgatory?  On the tv came an interview with a nominated ‘Child Carer of the Year’ award and a smiling young boy was shown in photographs with his arm wrapped around his severely disabled brother – obviously unable to do anything for himself, let alone get himself out of bed or go on a sponsored walk.  The two of them shared a very special bond, which was obvious by the love shining from their eyes and when the announcer then said that, sadly, his brother had died last year, I picked up my dowser as I always do, just to check.  Even so, I was nevertheless taken aback when I hooked on to the still-earthbound spirit of that brave child…and as he was surrounded with a vortex of light he showed nothing but gratitude for this buoyancy aid, allowing him to complete his transition to the other side! What he called back, as he was unable to verbalise these words from inside his trapped body, was – “Tell them I love them!” (his brother and parents) – and I burst into tears.

Still snivelling with the rush of empathy and love I felt for him (and all spirit rescuees), I had  just explained to my husband what had happened, when  the interviewer of his brave brother asked him “what would you say to your brother now, if you could?”  His still-smiling face caused me to cover my own with my hands as it contorted in a mixture of joy and grief…and relief.

“Well I think he’s watching down on us and I would just say ‘I hope you are happy!’    I was wracked with emotions and had to leave the room, but when I returned after a good cry, I realised it was not the end of the story…..  

“And so say all of us!” came the encouragement from above as, at 7  mts past 5 on Monday 27th September,  I opened the spiritual gateway once more and clung tenatiously to my heavily pulling, madly swirling dowser until 5.14 pm when it suddenly stopped dead – 400 severely disabled lost souls who had also been stuck inside their own purgatory had now completed their transition to the light –  with, amusingly (and surely just for me! ) one more late arrival who limped over on crutches to make it to the FINISHING line!  And as I watched him morph into a completely healed  soul, no longer trapped inside a body which was unable to serve him, my heart was filled with joy. “‘The Last shall be First! “ came back a reminder…

And in an emailed thank you from the British Heart Foundation the next day they estimated that ‘400′ had participated (and therefore crossed the finishing line) in that mega walk for charity!  ..Hand on my Heart!

why did lost spirits sing ‘buttercup baby’ into my ear?

27 09 2010

The other morning I found myself swinging to the words ‘We need you…more than anyone darling!‘ quite randomly as I left the house and my son said ‘you WHAT?‘….

Oh, I think it’s a song… just a minute….” and I sang it through again until I got to the rest… “Build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down….That’s how it goes” and went off humming this snippet of a song, apparently by The Foundations in the 1960’s, as I drove round to my daughters to take her 10 month old  Westie for a trot.

“Mummy can’t get home for lunchiepoo’s,” I told him in puppy talk so he’d understand “so grandma’s taking you for a walk round the canal today!”  He responded as he usually does when he hears a soppy voice and flung himself on to his  back, all four scruffy paws in the air, long strong, rat-like tail wagging so furiously that if he’d been on the slippery kitchen floor he would have been propelled along like a beaver or round in circles with a little help from granny.  “Scratch my tummy ; scratch my tummy!”  After lots of tickling and praising I scooped him up like the little bundle of love and fun he is and held him like a baby while he licked my chin with glee.  Oh the joys of being a (sad) grand(dog)mother!

So it was that we skipped merrily along the canal towpath, soaking up the beautiful late September morning, Alfie  stopping at the sound of my encouraging praise every two minutes and wiggling his big (little) bottom backwards to swish his tail round and between my legs…..when walking towards us came a newcomer to his patch.  Immediately he crouched down on all fours, making himself as flat and unobtrusive as he could (might have worked in the long grass but in the middle of the tarmac?) so granny had to play the game, act nonchalantly and admire the birds flying in the sky. 

In the meantime, a portly white doggie with a big brown spot on her  back swished along on short little legs, long ears skimming the path, and as soon as she’d waddled to within pouncing range Alfie was off  like a spring hare, bounding and boxing in the air and crying ‘play with meeee’…..”What’s her name?” I asked the nice lady owner as her dog skilfully avoided mine by sidestepping at precisely the right moment, whilst Alfie did an equally skilled somersault and about turn in mid air and flew in for the pounce again. “Buttercup” she answered, to my disbelief.  I could just imagine Buttercup’s mouth animated and singing ‘Build me up!” as she waddled her fat little belly on past us, and to add to the surrealism her owner added, by way of an explanation, “when we got her as a puppy we thought she looked like a cow,” and Buttercup’s ears drooped even further onto the path as she sang another line of the song…“just to let me down…”

Alfie, losing interest in a friend that didn’t run, pulled ahead as I waved goodbye and turned his interest instead to the other doggie bouncing merrily in our direction.  This was an Andrex teenager of the highest order and gave Alfie a run for his money while the owner pulled out his white earphones and we made polite chit-chat about our charges.  “I’m looking after her for my daughter” he smiled….

“Oh, how funny…so am I! What’s her name (the puppy)?”…

“Lilly,” he said, “As in the song ‘Pictures of Lilly’ by The Who….‘ and then grinned bashfully, saying “I’m showing my age now!”  I counterbalanced this by waffling on about “Build me up Buttercup” and how I’d had the song in my head 30 mts before meeting the real life Doggie Buttercup, who’d obviously been built up a little too much!….He reacted by laughing and pointing to a flower on the edge of the canal path.  “Oh no, that’s a dandelion!” he laughed again, embarrassed, and we both carried on our way. 

So there you have it.  What fun when our minds can go ahead of themselves and predict such happy doings such as these!  Just to check, I looked up The Foundations as well as The Who…and as a result picked up and cleared over 150  lost souls connected to them.  But the main reason I had this song in my head was revealed when I hopped into bed, hands clasped cosily under my chin, shut my eyes….and saw two ‘bikers’ coming towards me on foot in an underground carpark.  They took off their helmits and moving close to my face sang in unisonwe need you…more than anyone darling!...and of course I had to scrabble for my dowser and help these two earthbound spirits, who had apparently been following me since I’d left the house that morning!  They were quite annoyed (unbelievably!) and like a choreographed tv advert sang “We”ll be over at ten”, (they told us time and again) – “but you’re late, we wait around and then….We went to the door; We can’t take any more…It’s not fair…you let us down again!”  This was surreal.  They appeared to be singing the words of the Buttercup song, adjusted to fit the dilemma they felt in being earthbound and being ‘told’ by fellow spirits (perhaps?) that I would help……So at last Desperate Dan and Handy Andy (as they called themselves!) were, with a little help from me, able to get on their bikes and drive out from their underground car park and into the Light …“So build us up Buttercup, don’t break our hearts!”…and as my dowser whirled on and on their voices faded out into the distance….”We  need you, more than anyone, baby…You know that we have from the start….”  

And as  I type  this I look up at our grandmother clock and it ‘just happens’ to be ten (‘it is over at ten’ and now time for bed again!) and I contemplate why it is that children hold a buttercup up to someone’s chin and ask if they like butter….And if there is a yellow reflection on the recipient’s throat they joyfully announce ‘YES  You like butter!’ or sadly, ‘NO, you don’t’   Could it be that this ancient children’s game mimics the power of the yellow and sunny solar plexus (who we are) connecting with the throat/communication area of the Higher Self?    Perhaps The Who and The Foundations have a bigger significance after all!

ghostly puppeteer of michael bentine!

20 09 2010

Last weekend I was invited by the London Ghost Club to give a talk to them about the canal ghosts I met and subsequently rescued, documented in my first book Ghosts in a New Light – Haunted Waterways, published in 2006. (Available to order through my website  The talk went down a treat and I was pleased that, rather than take offence at the fact that I was, therefore, likely to remove the psychic phenomena and investigative findings of their ghost ‘hunts’, they were mesmerised by what I had to say – and have even invited me back! 

The chairman of the Club asked whether I could see into the future, and I was pleased to report that I was not that unfortunate…‘Michael Bentine’ he informed me, ‘once gave a talk to us  and said he had mistakenly been given an injection of a pure culture of typhoid.’ (Another man died immediately but Bentine was left in a coma for six weeks. When he regained consciousness his eyesight was ruined, leaving him myopic for the rest of his life)   ‘…after which he knew when people were going to die as he ‘saw’ a skull superimposed over them …including his own son.  Although I share in Bentine’s ability to see pictures (called ‘clairvoyancy) and also the fact that, like him, I was brought back from the brink of death after what is known as a ‘near death experience’, I could never imagine the fear that Bentine must have felt when he saw the skull superimposed over his very own son, who was soon to die in a plane crash. What a terrible legacy to have to bear.  It is a little ironic that he was left with myopia, as this is the physical manifestation of extreme short sightedness, and yet the effect of his near-death experience was the psychic manifestation of  long sightedness of a terrifying sort, resulting in these morbid glimpses of the future. 

When I met up with a friend for coffee the following Monday, as soon as I mentioned Michael Bentine Lisa wracked her brains to work out what his name meant to her….I immediately intuited a ‘puppet on a string’ dancing over her left shoulder and she frowned: “Did he have puppets?” Like most intuitives she knew there was something significant in this ‘message’…   Later that day I discovered that he had stayed earthbound after his death and was now relying on me to pull the strings to get him home again!  Naturally I obliged, once away from the public surroundings of the coffee shop, and he was off too quickly to record any message of enlightenment.

That evening, just as I jumped gratefully into my warm bed and flung the bedclothes over myself, I was zapped with the familiar electrical prickle of spirit communication and tuned in to listen.  ‘We’ve got a puzzle for you…” came a  spirit guide’s announcement. (Oh, not again…not now.) “Where did Bentine go after he died?” (To the other side?) “No. We mean before you rescued his spirit….! (Well are you going to enlighten me?) “The London Palladium; Billy Cotton’s Band Show...” came the clue, before spirit shot off again and I tucked this conundrum under my pillow for a couple of days.  After all, there was no rush to put all these clues together… 

Inquisitive to find out who Michael Bentine was, I looked him up on google. and discovered he was a British comedian, actor and writer who DID have a connection to puppets, writing and presenting the comical long-running children’s series Michael Bentine’s Potty Time from 1973-80, using bearded puppets of a dubious nature! (Again, thanks to the wonders of today’s worldwideweb I was able to see this for myself through YouTube and get to know him a bit better!)   Explaining his willingness to address the Ghost Club when he was alive, I was excited to read that he had a life long interest in the paranormal (living from 1922 to 1996) as his Peruvian father was totally committed to verifying psychic phenomena and his family home therefore was constantly full of psychics and mediums! 

Believing in the existence of life after death, he was delighted to show his never-ending humour by appearing momentarily from the other side, clutching his throat in a humorous way and emphasising how he wished me to talk on the subject of ‘possession’ – something close to my heart as the core of my healing work is moving spirits from the energies of living people to lighten their load (Many examples of the success of this are verified by my clients under the Guest Book section of my website )    In many cases this could be described as ‘possession’ as the emotional body of  the spirit in distress, fear or any type of anxst will have a detrimental effect on its human host’s physical health

With yet another clever reference to puppets, he apparently wrote some fascinating views about how Adolf Hitler ended up using so many individuals ‘like a puppeteer’…  I also discovered that in 1954 (when I made my own appearance onto the stage of life) he was offered a TV series by the BBC – a children’s puppet series called ‘The Bumblies’!  No wonder he played with a puppet on Lisa’s shoulder!

I retrieved that clue from under my pillow and spent an hour researching old London Palladium appearances and,  sure enough, Billy Cotton and his Band Show appeared in 1959 and indeed Michael Bentine in the late 60’s and early 70’s. Was this the clue to which the spirit guide alluded or was it just to run me by the fact that amongst those appearing over the years are well-loved comedians such as Eric Morecambe, Frankie Howard Tony Hancock Joan SimsMike and Bernie Winters, Tommy Cooper, Spike Milligan,  Dandy Nicholls and  Charlie Drake?  –  All of whom appear  in my latest book, channelled to me over a period of 3 years and who are no doubt pulling the strings from up there to get their book published asap!

“About time!” Bentine complained when at last I had a moment to see what he had to say from the other side and his  unexpected comment on puppets was “We’re ALL  puppets dancing to the song of life!”   I asked him what made him stay earthbound and his strange amswer was ‘I’d had enough!’   I asked him what he meant by this and he explained that the horrific ‘sight’ of the afterlife had scared him witless. “I thought heaven consisted of a load of numb skulls floating about” ….and looking around at his London Palladium chums he now shares his space with he (jokingly) said “I wasn’t far wrong!”     

lost souls lifted from His Holiness the Pope!

18 09 2010

Just before 6pm on Friday 17th September 2010 I happened to switch on the television to see the live broadcast of the procession of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI’s Popemobile heading to his next location at Westminster Abbey, central London.  He gave off an air of humble peity as he waved gently at the adoring crowd lining the pavements for the first stately visit of a Pope since the church began and, even though I am not a Catholic myself and have been disgusted at the child abuse scandal, I smiled at the peace emanating from him.  I did, however, hear the call of many earthbound souls from the emotional level of His Holiness…..and as Big Ben’s first chime donged I had located the first, then the second and the third of the poor souls stuck  to the Pope in the hope of salvation….

Then four, five and six and as I moved around the Pope’s aura of emotional energy I found and rescued more and more and more, until approximately 26 souls had been saved.  Turning then to the energy inside the Popemobile yet more leapt towards the light as my dowser hooked onto each individual lost soul and leapt into a clockwise spin and deposited their grateful selves into the light.  

Just as Big Ben donged his sixth chime the job had been done, leaving both the Pope, his Popemobile and accompanying entourage inside completely lifted of the emotional and clinging cloud of stress that had been caused by the desperate and emotional souls looking for a lift to salvation!

At that very moment, the smiling face of one of the male escorts inside the Popemobile turned and beamed towrds the camera….almost as though he knew and was waving off the spirits of his fellow humankind  The song that has been sung very many times to me from the other side,’ The Teddy Bears’ Picnic’, came floating across the veil, reminding me that ‘at six o’clock their mummies and daddies will take them home to bed, because they’re tired little Teddy Bears!‘ 

You may think this a little frivolous when discussing important people like the Pope harbouring earthbound spirits, but he is a human being like the rest of his flock, and he, like all of us, can provide a harbour for the lost who are just trying to get back home….and having enjoyed their picnic (or not) it was obviously their time to be taken home to sleep peacefully on the other side.

Perhaps it was my knowledge that His Holiness had dispersed with piggy-backing energy that was not his own, but he did seem a lot lighter and enthusiastic during his address in Westminster Abbey – and to my delight the tv commentater spoke the words that were in my mind: “…the Pope spoke so forcefully!”   I don’t know what he would make of the work I do, but it is my faith which is the core of my healing practice, without which I would not be here now  passing on this good news of light, healing and LIFE EVERLASTING!   Amen to that Jack, as my husband would say!

the roguish spirit who found it necessary to throw a cabbage!

13 09 2010

These lovely white pigeons/doves  gather regularly in our garden but as  I prepared breakfast this morning I kept glancing towards the little fountain in the garden as one of them  ‘peeped’ at me from behind the stone plynth and was still there, doing nothing in particular, when I washed up my porridge bowl 10 mts later.  “Hello! I said, ‘what are you up to?’  When I later checked my emails I found the following message from my neice, whose request to look at her daughter had resulted in a successful clearing of  approximately 550 spirits the previous day….”Just out of interest, before you cleared ****** we had a very naughty spirit here I’m sure, turning my washing machine on in front of 5 of us, adults! and then a cabbage I had on the side by the back door for my guinea pigs flew at the back of my friend’s husband’s legs making quite a noise. We did all find this amusing and I am just interested if you get any info on this soul as I got the impression he was of a bit of a joker!! xxxxx

I replied: “Yes, there were also 17 in the house I seem to remember and the only clue I have to the person who threw the cabbage is that he was singing the strange song ‘mouldy old dough’ (seemed a bit of a rogue!) and as I am checking now for any more info to come through I hear ‘sacramento’ and ‘los angeles’ and 20 more go through that link!  Is there some connection with your friend’s husband and California where these places are I wonder?…”

I decided to listen to this ’70’s  ‘mouldy old dough’ song on YouTube and laughed to find it was by a British pop group named Leiutenant Pigeon! (1972-78) (My watcher, this morning?) and the first thing on the video is (understandably) a pigeon, followed by a band member wearing a wizard’s hat (me?) and Leiutenant Pigeon is playing a tin whistle (gathering together the lost souls?) AND is dressed in a Robin Hood outfit (Nottingham being my location!)….The characters both in the band and the audience were just like the ‘Californian dreamers ‘ whose souls had danced home to my dowsing! –   The words ‘mouldy old dough’ are the only three words in the song and just happen to be sung by the roguish, ‘playfully mischievous’  sort of character who threw that cabbage in my neice’s kitchen!   “Oh my goodness….” replied my neice when I shared this with her…”How strange, my first thoughts were that this spirit was urging me to contact you for help!!! I will look now on Youtube, enjoy the rest of your fun packed day! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Stranger things have happened, but when I looked up this oddly named British band I noticed they were from Coventry (in the West Midlands and only 38 miles from Nottingham in the East Midlands) so was it a mere ‘coincidence’ that the next call for help that very evening was from a Landlord in Coventry?    
Four consecutive tenants who had stayed in his let property have had a dreadful time of it; the first a middle aged man who felt a compulsion to kill his wife and kids, then two brothers who fought each other almost to the death, the next a tragic woman who committed suicide in the house and finally a long term tenant who wrote to him to break her tenancy saying she could no longer stand the ‘weird goings on’ after poltergeist activity (such as the fridge slamming) and – terrifyingly for her – seeing the ghost of the dripping wet suicide victim….! 
I tuned in to the address and, unsurprisingly, immediately felt spirits pushing on the floodgates to get home!  The young woman who had committed suicide by drowning herself threw her wet arms around me when she realised I was about to release her from what she described as ‘ misery; imprisonment’;…my heart it was broken’  and – AMAZING THOUGH IT MAY SOUND – she herself suffered from depression and was ‘infected’ with earthbound spirits who had been drawn to her desperately low energies….another example of  like attracts like.  Another 43 spirits who were left floating over her dead body (and therefore in this Landlord’s home) were also directed home to the light.
On closer inspection of the house I found one room to be FULL of negative thought forms – the clinging, stifling energy hanging in the atmosphere as a result of all the heartache, sorrow, addiction, fear, murder, torture and obscenity that had been perpetrated in and around  that spot – not necessarily in that building but on that particular ground over many hundreds of years to the present time.   The visions I witnessed are too vile to share here with you, but the dark energy had developed a sort of self-perpetrating den of iniquity – obviously effecting all who tried to live a normal life within it.
As well as the 43 attached to the young woman another 60 earthbound spirits were detected and passed safely from the house and the grounds on which it stood  – after which I thoroughly cleansed it by sending love and light and joyful energy to replace it.   This perfectly illustrates how the effects of both negative energetic imprints from the past, as well as the misery of trapped souls, can have a serious impct on the lives of ordinary people.  (One thing I will share with you is that mentally ill people were amongst those who passed to the accompaniment of another eccentric song “They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Ha” – summing up the sheer madness contained within those walls!)    
Finally, and explaining why that old rogue of a spirit threw that cabbage and sang me that song…The expression ‘mouldy old dough’ certainly describes perfectly the state of dough if it has ‘not had a chance to rise’ – just like those poor souls.   Indeed I dowsed all four members of Leiutenant Pigeon and was taken aback to find that Robert Woodward (playing the tin whistle and wearing the Robin Hood outfit in the video) snatched this opportunity to leave the earthplane (I heard ‘lung cancer’) – Quickly followed by his mother Hilda, who believe it or not was a member of the band and is recorded as having died in 1999 – “Obsessive!” was her departing word as she shot off with her son, no doubt to bake him some fresh dough and cook him some cabbage soup!
There is much colaboration between spirit guides (those guardians we all have watching over us and who whisper guiding directions and prompt intuitive decisions to keep us on our earthly path) and souls in the light and if someone is ‘late home’ they will do their best to decide on a course of action to attract attention to the lost ones.  How clever of them to come up with the ‘mouldy old dough’ analagy so that they could further our understanding of the workings of spirit!   I’ve just realised, that ‘very naughty spirit’ also, blatantly, turned on my neice’s washing machine didn’t he, perhaps hinting that the mouldy old dough needed a good cleansing before being set on a fast spin homewards?! 

1,000 spirits in the sky!

8 09 2010

Sunday is traditionally a day to rest one’s spirit after all, but the powers that be made sure it was a day of rest for 1,000 souls who weren’t!  At 6 am my neice sent me an email reference her little 7 year old daughter:

“… she has had a medical check and they can find no reason for her headaches/tummyaches and endless sleepless nights…its been weeks now and she is really struggling (as am i) i’m mostly concerened about her disturbed sleep…she just quietly sobs to herself or is wandering as if sleep walking but she is awake! i really hope you can help us as the doctors couldnt and its rather desperate now!!!”

…So I sat in my dressing gown and got stuck straight in, sending healing and dowsing my great neice from head to toe, at the end of which an incredible total of 500+ spirits, stuck within her energy field, and obviously causing severe emotional and physical stress, were hooked out one by one as well as in large batches of 20 to 30 at a time.  If children are particularly sensitive they can see and feel ghosts and often communicate with them.  My neice’s daughter had been an attractive hostess for them over many years and when too many accumulate the child – as in her case – can either become withdrawn or exhibit bizarre behaviour patterns, go off their food and experience sleeplessness. eventually leading to physical manifestations such as tummy or headaches. Quite often children are unable to relate their strange experiences and/or fears to an adult, often thinking they are a normal part of life!  Over the past ten years I have helped hundreds of such little ones to return to their equilibrium by scanning and removing those lost souls to the light and filling the inevitable void  with energy to boost them again…..(“she’s doing much better thankyou, last night she slept all night as usual so i’m happy now 🙂 i can’t thank you enough!!!!! xxxxxxxxxxxx “  came my lovely neice’s reply as I typed this blog.)

Before I had time to shower and dress, my daughter was on the phone for a general chat but I found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying as the drawer on the DVD player underneath the tv suddenly opened and closed again – puzzling me as the controller was out of reach on the other side of the room, so there was no chance I could have accidentally touched it.  Then the drawer opened halfway, closed quickly and opened fully, then closed, opened and closed several times in a manically fast way….I knew immediately it was spirit attracting my attention …and called Michael to come and witness this amusing phenomena!  Whilst holding my madly spinning dowser in my left hand and the phone up to my right ear while I continued to listen to my chatty daughter, I nodded towards the DVD player and just as he walked towards the remote  the drawer snapped closed and the words ‘goodbye‘ came up on the front of the machine!  LOL!  My guides informed me that 300 odd had been diverted to me via these amusing high jinks (they love playing with electrical appliances!) and the only clue I had to their origin was ‘bengal tiger’ !  (I’m still trying to figure that one out!)

Even when preparing the Sunday roast a few hours later my dowser was constantly on the go:  for some reason my deceased Auntie Mary seemed to be in charge of organising this particular influx of souls to the light.  I felt constant tickles to my crown while mixing the gravy powder, swirling energy playing with my own while putting the spuds on to roast, click-click-clicking of the gas rings when my back was turned and tingling cheekbones urging me to help.  What was it about today? Handling large amounts of energy such as this as well as working in a hot kitchen and wanting to strip off made me laugh out loud as I suddenly got the heavenly joke….Auntie Mary and I always used to exchange little drawings on our Christmas cards when she was alive – accompanied with a typical piece of advice ‘don’t forget your thermals!’ (We both felt the cold)  These souls had perished in cold winters or of chills related to exposure! (another 100 or so)

Later in that Day of Rest we’d been invited to visit some friends out in the country for tea and while standing in their large farmhouse kitchen with their well-to-do neighbours (who would probably not understand if they had an inkling of what was to follow)  one of the under cupboard lights flashed on then off again.  Nobody seemed to notice, but by my ravishingly tingling cheekbones I knew what was afoot.  Determined to draw attention to their shennanigans, they persevered in causing the light to flash off and on and off and on….at last noticed by our hostess, who lowered her head to check underneath the cupboard.  A few seconds later it happened again and our host did the same, spending longer investigating the ‘fault’.  I was dying to tell them.  “There’s nothing wrong with the lights…” he said, flummoxed.  ‘Does this happen often?‘ I asked all innocently.  ‘It’s never happened before…It’s a mystery!‘ our hostess laughed, confirming what I already knew.  So I subtly took myself off to the loo and moved on the following:

“…A squirrel/rat catcher, a mormon, ‘someone’s auntie’ (was that Mary’s doing?), a merry-go-round operator, a basketball player, a groundsmen, a drains worker, a little girl clutching a balloon ” and several others amounting to another 22 ….

So there you have it.  Almost 1,000 lost souls who just had to get home for their Sunday roast!

ps   The beautiful serene swans were pictured on our local canal, reflecting in the water ‘as above so below’).                      

The Angel in the Sky was taken over our back garden in 2005.  You may be able to see her face and body as well as many other spirit faces, both animal and human.  When I was only 15 (many moons ago!) my most favourite song was Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum (‘that’s where I’m gonna go when I die!/ when I die and they lay me to rest I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best!’ )  

I’m sure there’s no need to ask those 1,000 spirits , now ‘in the sky’, what they think?

spirit rescue of american doctor stuck in chimney

6 09 2010

One morning last week I came down the stairs only to find Michael’s wide-eyed and sad face gazing up at mine as he asked: ‘Janey would you mind helping someone?’ 

“What on earth’s the matter?” I asked.

“I’ve just seen something tragic on the news.  Can you check someone called Jacquelyn Kotarac from California…?

“Of course,” I said, reaching into my dressing gown pocket for my dowser… “you know I don’t mind at all!” 

“Well I don’t like to keep bothering you” he said in his ever-thoughtful manner (knowing what a very busy time I am having with spirit rescue)…

Jacquelyn’s  spirit was immediately located via my dowsing and in only 6 seconds my helpers in the light had scooped her up into the arms of love where her soul was deposited gently back home…As I held her desperately suffering soul for those awful seconds my hand went up to my throat and grasped it tightly.  “Did she die of strangulation – she couldn’t breathe?” I asked.

He explained that, so very tragically, this well-liked, intelligent doctor had, in a moment of sheer madness and in order to get into her lover’s house, removed the top of a chimney and climbed down, only to get stuck 3 feet from the fireplace below.  Her body was discovered 3 days later as no-one could hear her calls for help. She had been unable to breathe and had therefore died a long and unimaginable asphyxiation.

“Don’t do anything so foolish in the name of love!” came her warning from the other side, just last night.  I grabbed a pen to record her thoughts and emotions.  “I was infatuated and ironically he was all I lived – and died – for.”  And to her family and friends she asks that they “forgive me for my foolish ways…”  Of her dying moments she spoke of enduring agony and desperation… “I thought I was destined to be stuck in that hell hole forever, but then a beautiful white angel pulled me up!”

Her advice for others was “Be in control of your lives.  Don’t let it all count for nothing.  It was not written that I should die in such a frivolous, pathetic manner, wearing my heart on my sleeve for all of mankind to know about.” (By ‘not written’ she means she had not planned to leave the earth this way: we all come down with a rough map of what we wish to achieve, which includes several options of how we will return….sadly, she therefore feels she wasted her given opportunity to experience the rest of her ‘planned’ life) 

At 11.45 pm my eyes stung with sympathy and love for her as I left her singing a rather melancholy ‘hallelujah… hallelujah…..hallelujah…halle..luuuu..jah’  and at midnight I awoke with this Donny Osmond song playing slowly on her personal akashic scroll on the other side (a record of all our gains and our losses in our lifetimes) :

                                    “And they call it puppy love,

                              But I guess they’ll never know

                              How a young heart really feels

                              And how I love(d) him so”

                              God Bless you Jacquelyn Kotarac from California x

what is the ghost of H G Wells’ mother doing in Uppark Country House?

3 09 2010

On our second day of holiday in the wonderful West Sussex countryside we decided to utilise our National Trust membership once more and found the nearest tantalising place to visit, the late 17th century Uppark House and Gardens – home of the Fetherstonhaugh’s (yes, we stuttered over their family name too!)  The amazing thing about this very handsome House is that it had been restored from the ceilings of the ground floor upwards after a catastrophic fire in 1989, apparently started accidentally by a workman who left a blowtorch on the roof and went on his lunchbreak!  Locals rushed in to remove as many family treasures and works of art as they could before they were totally ruined and fire engines came from several counties around due to the remoteness of the House – situated on the South Downs with magnificent views towards the Solent.

The first spirit who flew into my radar was accompanied by the 1967 song ‘I am the walrus’ …by  The Beatles, and seemed a little ‘off his rocker’, not really appreciating what was happening to him as I scooped him up with the aid of my dowser and deposited him safely on the other side.  I glimpsed a handsome but bedraggled young man in a dinner jacket, his white collar turned up.  Quite appropriately, The Beatles used this song in their television film and album of the same year….Magical Mystery Tour (about to start!) and was the B side to their number one hit Hello, Goodbye!

Following closely on his tail was a ‘young whippersnapper’ who I saw struggling to climb a tree in an effort to escape the ‘shot that was peppered at him’.  Apparently recorded as ‘a mere accident as he had been hiding in the tree unbeknown to the shooters’ – although he was described as a ‘troublemaker’.

In amongst some interesting case studies there are always some particularly graphic images and a feeling of terrible pain and suffering. Next came someone who had died an extremely violent death (I saw the moment he was blasted in the belly with a shotgun) – poor man.  Then there was a ‘Fenella Fielding lookalike’ (although I have no idea what this British actress looks like, I was just told she had a husky voice) dressed in jodpurs, slim and blonde and working in the stables on the Estate. She had died from an ectopic pregnancy.

As we entered the first room to the left of the entrance hall the phantom of a man stood there facing me, arms hanging loosely from his dark, long-sleeved jacket, dirty cuffs covering large dangling hands.  He had long greasy hair with a straggly fringe and pointed long beard, and his dark eyes widened, suddenly amazed when he realised I had come to rescue him:  “She has come with her dynamo! (dowser) I am FREE!” (I caught the name Ebineezer!)  Another phantom came from my right and called me ‘a rose by any other name’ and was off to join him (another Edward?)

The rest of the meander around the fine house allowed me to immerse myself in the genial surrounds, feeling the happiness and family atmosphere once held within those gentrified walls.  It was not until we entered – through long underground tunnels – the  enormous downstairs kitchens of the House that I stumbled across another ghostly apparition or two.  A woman of commanding stature bustled about telling a couple of others off:  “‘gossip gossip gossip” she complained, clapping her hands for them to get on with their work ,saying  to another woman “roll your sleeves up Maud!”  The names of the  three souls who moved over hand in hand – rather like a vision of the three fairy godmothers in Cinderella! – were Hattie, Sarah and Maud.

Then there was a poor soul who was involved in an accident with a vice in the workshop.. .And while we were in the Butler’s Pantry I placed my hands on the back of an old chair that faced a beaureau and felt ‘overlapped’ by the ghost of a very polite gentleman….but frustratingly could only hear part of his name: “Good morning; I am Arthur Edward (sounded like ‘Snowstorm’ could it have been Fetherstonhaugh?) who said he had ‘travelled round the globe’…then there was Eugene, an ‘understairs maid’  (By way of an explanation for her death I saw a bleeding finger and heard ‘no antibiotics, cut with a cook’s knife’).. Then there was Paulo (Pow-lo), described as a ‘cabin boy’ who was a little black child, carrying lightweight canvas bags.  (Michael suggested he may have been involved with the family on the Grand Tour).  He was quickly joined by Cosmosa fellow traveller who had died of smallpox.  Eugene’s friend Daisy now floated towards me for help – she was very thin and had died of ‘consumption’.   Finally, an overweight lady named Constance (sounded like ‘ship’s cook’) came puffing and panting into the light.  That was below stairs checked. 

Once back at the B & B after a brilliant day out (walking and meeting newly found friends for an evening meal) I lay back on my bed and used my dowser to check the House for any lost souls I may have missed.  The understairs level was completely at peace again but as I moved up to the ground floor  my dowser leapt in the air as another Fetherstonhaugh – a William or Cedric or both – galloped over yelling ‘once more unto the breach dear friends!’ as he/they pointed upwards with their swords!

In one of the rooms a weird painting had drawn my attention as it was different in style from the other handsome portraits.  As soon as it drew my gaze my face had crackled with spirit recognition (I therefore knew he was still earthbound).  Dated around 1580-1600 this was a painting of a very pale faced man with a large rimmed hat and neck ruffles.  A French man shot across, muttering something about ‘pullet’ (chickens?)  At the time I had been curious enough to check with the room guide to paintings but there was no clue as to the identity of this sitter – and too many people around to play with my dowser!

Finally, and perhaps a little bizarrely, a racehorse named Nottingham (??) galloped home to his stables in the sky and I was delighted to hear, later on, that ‘Sir Harry (of this house) owned a horse of this name in the late 18th century – and now called back: “Thanks old bean!”    And telling me ‘tally-ho!’ (being a Hunting?) repeated their encouragement “once more unto the breach dear girl!” (Henry V Act 3 Scene 1 speech by William Shakespeare…’once more…or close them all up with our English dead…Follow your spirit…England and St George!’)

This made a total of 15 spirits trapped within the fabric of the building and grounds of Uppark House – but the story doesn’t end there.  When we returned to Nottingham I needed to check the location of Uppark and came across some blurb about the history of the house, reading that ‘Uppark’s main claim to fame lies not with the rich aristocrats who lived here, but with a housekeeper named Sarah Wells. Sarah was mother of writer H G Wells  who worked as an Uppark housekeeper from 1880 until 1893.’    I tuned in to the spirit world and ascertained that this famous writer of science fiction rested in peace, but was not prepared for what came next:  “You helped my mother,” he said.  Sarah had been the lady “in her supervisory role of housekeeper” …She had been one of those three ‘fairy godmothers’ to float out of the servants quarters. I am tempted to say ‘All’s Wells that ends Wells’, but I won’t be so corny…

what have tree spirit orbs come to say?

29 08 2010

A couple of Tree Spirits saying hello!

Whilst walking in the Black Down Hills during our recent B&B trip to Surrey I loved every moment, despite the showers and the murky mist when we trekked deeper into the woods, and greeted all of nature with a friendly hello.  Yes, some humans would feel silly talking to trees and mushrooms and the ‘little people’ who are on a different dimension to us, but can nevertheless hear what humans are thinking (yes, thinking….there is no need to speak out loud; they sense if you love them or not!)  These two characters on the right (now you can’t say they don’t have characters in their ‘faces’) gave themselves fancy names like Geronimo and Renaldo (bless!)…

Just to prove that they have spirit, they stepped to the side of their physical bodies and posed, one above the other, for the camera!  It was not all jolly however, as they kept saying to me ‘help us!’   They want to remind “human beans” at every opportunity that they are also living beings with feelings…..

Handle with Care!” was also the simple message of this other Tree Spirit – a wood nymph who gave me the exotic name of Nadia, who also posed for the camera so that she could make her ‘voice’ heard.  Her role is to take care of and guard every living thing in the woods.  Nature spirits exist alongside human spirit but they do get a raw deal from some human ‘beans’….Things are slowly changing as people are learning more and more to respect the world they were given as a playground.   Just being in beautiful woods and trees like the picture taken below makes many want to jump for joy, but I also weep with pity for the treatment our friends sometimes receive.  Respect.  That’s all nature requires…..and a whole lot of loving.  Try pausing underneath your favourite tree…if you don’t already do so…and sending love direct from your heart.  It may help to close your eyes, but if you are sincere in sharing your love of all things bright and beautiful and all things great and small you will feel their love come back to you threefold.  It starts with a tingling sensation; a shudder through your spine.  As I have spoken to the same Copper Birch on our dog-walking route for 10 years now I have got to know her every moods.  I call her ‘Daphne’ because that is the name she gave me (telepathically) and now the spirit of Daphne wanders further afield and has visited me in my own garden!  Geronimo,  Renaldo, Nadia and all the millions of other nature spirits present hope you enjoy sharing in the pictures below, taken in their very very special woods!

Isn't She Lovely...?

Copyright Jane Hunting, Geronimo, Renaldo and Nadia 2010

a full moon brings lost souls from the crimean war to light

28 08 2010

"wot's she up too?'

Monday 23rd August

2010 finds us in a brilliant Sussex B & B with just a little hope of a peaceful few days away from spirit rescue… As I write in my diary I hear a little tap-tapping on the window sill and look up to see a cheeky little blue tit looking straight at me!  Just as I sketch him quickly onto my page (he looks a little scary) another joins him as if to say ‘don’t be nosey.  What are you looking at anyway?’

My dear husband ventured out into the dark, tree lined tunnels of roads to find us some supper, insisting I ‘stay put as you are exhausted’ and having found a garage forecourt to buy ham rolls, crisps and flapjacks he made his way carefully back along the spooky lanes, peering into the darkness for the right turn off.  As he slowed at the tiny junction he saw a deer standing in that space, just looking at him!  Beautifully proportioned, it seemed to smile at him (“yes, sort of!”) as if to say ‘this way, deer!’

Later settling into blissful sleep, I was suddenly awoken by a bright light in my eyes!  It was a full moon, just having reached the brow of the rooftop and lining up perfectly with the one inch crack at the side of the drawn curtains!  “Wake up JB!” it seemed to say.  I glanced at the clock and groaned.  It was 4.30 am, so I smiled knowingly, flung the duvet back and trudged over to admire its beauty in full, climbing back into bed with a smile on my face.  I was bathed in angelic moonlight, my heart racing with an injection of energy that seemed to emanate from the moon herself….

I glugged down copious amounts of water (always necessary when handling large amounts of energy) and took a deep relaxing breath, at the same time feeling for my trusty dowser and allowing it to leap into the air and settle into a naturally strong, whirling dynamo rhythmn.  Michael woke up and offered to lend me a prop, as it was going to be a long mission.  As he lay with arm bent, holding my elbow, the dowser spun on and on and on as spirit after spirit rescue was instigated.  Too tired to interact with my rescue team (angels and spirit guides of individuals) I just caught snippets of directions such as “inland” and “go south”.

This session was particularly trying and I had to keep transferring the dowser, at a suitable split second pause between individuals passing, to my right hand (not such a good technique, however, and almost knocking my poor husband senseless like a sling-shot out of control) and back again to my left.  As the clock approached quarter to 5 the queue had shortened to only a few, and they now took their leisurely time!  At last, mission accomplished, it had to be 4.44 am when all 610 spirits were safely deposited back, of course! (The angelic energy vibration)

However, it is not just a case of going back to sleep after such a project – and this is where Michael comes in with his insights (and is the gentleman who leaps out of bed to find pen and paper so we don’t forget come ‘morning’!)  Visuals and clues return from the other side, so that I know whose souls I have just helped to save  – Those gathered together to be herded gently into a pen of safety and taken home to the warmth, happiness and pure joy of re-uniting with loved ones, where they will undergo a period of rest, recuperation and then analysis of their earthly adventures.  Thoughts drifted through as follows, which Michael scribbed down for me:

Wassailling (? Someone thinks this is some sort of game involving soaking a rag in wine and passing it along); the song ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’; 3 French Hens; a Flemish market; (go south) a beer festival; long horn cattle; a very cross ‘baron’; someone flicking a switch (fascination with electricity, especially if that soul was born centuries ago); I see pigs, then more pigs, and a man wearing a smock and gaiters; a roundhouse; a Sussex clock maker peering through little glasses; ‘rural pursuits’; a hay barn; wenches; taverns – then I see a very clear picture of men’s feet in battered boots, the soles hanging off; crowded/huddled together, wearing hats like upturned flower pots with little peaks…”  

“Can I speak?” asks Michael…”I’m reading Heroes of the Crimea (by Michael Barthorp) about the Crimea War and how the British suffered terribly from poor clothing and equipment (fighting the Russians) and particularly their boots, which fell apart…They also wore what is called a SHAKO – which is like an inverted flower pot!  They would probably have been crowded together to protect themselves from the cold!  With no previous knowledge of what book Michael had had his nose stuck in all afternoon, while I dozed, it is incredible to know that souls in need of rescue came through the fact that he read those words – energy attracting energy! 

Perhaps that little blue-tit knew before we did? Having written all this information into my diary I snapped it shut and found myself saying ‘tally-ho’!’ Come morning, we ventured to the dining room for a traditional English fry up – and there on the wall was a painting of a Hunting scene (‘tally ho’ being the cry of the riders – Hunting being our surname), another containing country folk of all description and longhorn cattle, another showing a priest collecting his pig as part of the tithes from tenant farmers…then there was the lovely Sussex grandfather clock…(clock-maker peering through little glasses)…

Next morning, in my next Blog…..visitations of a more mysterious, earthly kind….. adventures with nature spirits in the misty, swirling woodlands…..oooooo!

tsunami of souls

23 08 2010

On 7th August a very interesting tv programme entitled ’10 things you don’t know about tsunamis’ came on just as I plonked down to eat my plate of shepherds pie.  As I watched with interest I suddenly felt a loss of balance, reminiscent of a frightening bout of viral vertigo I once suffered, when placing one foot after another to ascend the stairs was impossible as I’d lost all sense of place.   I carried on eating my supper, lifting my eyes from my plate to scan the room, which had become all lopsided….then it hit me!  A wave of energy so powerful I only had a moment to grab my dowser for the antidote!

With fork in my right hand and madly spinning dowser in my left I had no time to warn my husband that I struggled to hold on to the life raft to which victims of the Indian tsunami of 2004 clung for their dear lives currently being discussed via this programme!  My head spun along with my dowser and it was all I could do not to fall over with the sheer force of spiritual energy engulfing my own!  I glanced up at the clock, still clutching my dowser tightly between finger and thumb, and noticed it was 7.05 pm.  At 7.15 pm the storm had passed – a full 10 minute rescue mission of 500 souls who had not made the transition home…(of an estimated 150,000 deaths) My spirit guides usually give me a statement that categorises the souls rescued and this came back as ‘tantamount to purgatory…’  In all my 10 years of spirit rescue I have never been hit by a tsunami of energy quite like it!

I put down my dowser to sweep my own plate clean just in time to hear the commentator talk of a meteor hitting the earth’s sea bed causing a tsunami ‘as high as the sea water was deep’  – My rescue squad was already on the ball as I snatched back my dowser and allowed it to spin from 7.17 until 17.24 pm – 300 plus ‘warriors and beasties’ passed this time.  It was thought that ‘an unimaginable several giant tsunami waves’  caused the dinasaurs to suddenly become extinct.

The commentator then spoke of Atlantis and Plato’s writings of the inhabitants of this land being ‘swallowed by the sea…   In 1630 BC a cataclismic geological event occurred … civilisation was wiped from the pages of history’…I made sketchy notes between rescue missions and can’t be sure of the facts here but it sounded like the effects of the eruption of the  ‘Santarina Volcano that instantly drowned 10’s of 1,000’s of people, picking them up and pulling the Minoan people straight out to sea.’…From 7.25 until 7.30 pm 52 souls who had not made the transition – an incredible 3.5,ooo years ago! – now rejoined their kin on the other side of the shore.

The subject now returned to Hawaii and Japan, described as ‘tsunami capitals of the world, constantly bombarded by earthquakes and eruptions in the Pacific Ocean. Hawaii has suffered 137 tsunamis in the past 200 years!’  From 7.30 until 7.32 pm another 16 were lifted from the sea. ‘Britains worst natural disaster was 400 years ago in 1607 when a storm surge/tsunami raced up the Bristol channel at dawn and 2,000 people drowned’ – 7.34 until 7.38 another 32 joined those who had passed naturally.

Now moving to WW2 and the Japanese capture of many Pacific islands in 1944, an attempt was made to create ‘artificial tsunamis  by dropping bombs in the ocean’ but this ‘didn’t work so 2,000 tons of explosives were set off in an inlet’ –  from 7.38 until 7.40 pm another 33 souls from this time in history floundered in the waves but were pulled to safety…To conclude, over a 35 minute period of constant spinning of my dowser a total of 933 souls (including ‘beasties’!) were safely lifted from the purgatory of being stuck between death and new life and deposited safely on their golden beach

With regard to the tragic, overwhelming floods and consequent massive loss of life in Pakistan and more recently China, I check on a daily basis for poor souls stuck in limbo, or needing a helping hand, a little ‘re-direction’ or ‘explanation of the consequences of staying earthbound’  – and as with most natural disasters on such a scale, the first three days between 30 and 50 such people took advantage of this offer, before it scaled down to between 1 and 5 over each of the next two and three weeks.  The way in which people suffer such terror before the ending of their lives is unbelievable but evidence of life after death continues to be proven with the passing of every grateful soul!

So surprised had I been to have been knocked sideways by such a spiritual tsunami on an otherwise calm Saturday evening, you could have knocked me down with a feather!   But then it was a ‘shepherd‘s pie I was consuming……

What’s granny’s spirit doing smoking on the job?

18 08 2010

Part Seven

Our daughter Laura, having recently secured a new job, was called into the Bosses’ office to discuss her future career path.  Back home, Michael was reading a book by the name of Praerie Traveller by a Captain Marcery (written a long time ago, in 1859) about his own pioneering and route finding travels in the USA.

I sat thinking about Laura and what a rollercoaster of a journey she’d travelled.  After suffering from ME at the tender age of 12 to 15 and missing much schooling, she had been kick-started into recovery by a healer from Cornwall.  The morning after her hands-on healing – during which he said the ME virus ‘lives in the gut’ – she awoke with breath smelling like roses!  So what he said made sense…. Despite this setback in her health and her education she gained a good degree in Psychology and went on to achieve an MSc in Health Psychology – aiming for her dream of helping others to heal themselves through healthy lifestyle choices and the like.  However, out of 90 candidates for what she thought was the perfect research job at the University, she ended up competing with one other person – who was chosen because she ‘had experience’ in that field of research.  Not to be downhearted, she applied for a similar post only 2 weeks later and despite giving ‘an excellent presentation’ and being told ‘we want you on our team!’ the academics responsible for placing candidates once more chose the girl with some experience in that field.  It is a familiar story; one which many graduates are hearing in this economic climatic:  No experience no job no job no experience!  As she was revved up to give her all to the second interview I thought to tune in and ask her deceased grandmama – now acting in the role of spirit guide – what  advice she could give….the answer came back simply as “advancement”…..

In the meantime, Laura’s current boss made her an offer in a completely different field of sales and business development, having employed her as a receptionist in his small up and coming firm.  It was a battle between her heart and her head but now I took my dowser from my back pocket and asked granny if she was able to give any advice (spirit guides are only permitted to do just that…guide.  They can’t look into the future and advise us which road to take although they can ‘nudge’ us intuitively in the right direction…)

“Yes, yes, yes!” swung granny’s answer to my question ‘will Laura rise to the challenge?‘ (although I already knew that doors had been closed on what she saw as her ‘perfect job’ in order to guide her into this, for her own ‘advancement’)  “With gusto!”  she replied.  As her personal spirit guide, Sheila will have looked at the plan drawn up by Laura before she came to earth and, despite her disappointment at being pipped to the post for the University job, it was all meant to be.

“So what are you up to?”  I asked Sheila, just out of interest.  To my amusement she said she had been ‘smoking rolled-up Capstans’ (cigarettes)!”  I was taken aback.  Surely not?  Surely in heaven they wouldn’t want to – or need to – smoke?

“Did your mum ever smoke?” I asked Michael, who frowned over the top of his book.

“Oh yes!  She always kept a packet in the house (I had never seen her smoke in the 25 years I had know her) “When cigarettes were in short supply during war time she and May used to prick the end of a cigarette when they got to the stub and suck through the little hole like this….(a demonstration!) Yeuk!  I asked what Kenneth was up to (Michael’s father) and she said he was ‘digging trenches/enjoying the trench experience’ – something I have to work out as it is probably a metaphor for something else….

After telling me that granny loved to smoke in her younger days Michael returned his nose to his book but immediately exclaimed ‘oh how strange…the very next words in my book are: ‘very dense smokes may be raised’  (speaking of Indian smoke signals)!

When Laura called round on her way home from work, to let us know how her important initiation with her man bosses had gone, she was in full flow with the story and then she suddenly paused:

“You know, I’m sure granny was with me – between (the boss) and me…I saw a..a…a..”

“…wisp of energy?” I volunteered.


“…flash of light?  Ectoplasm??” I urged.

“No…No… I can’t think of the word…I’ve been using my brain too much …oh yes, I would describe it as rings of white smoke.”  Michael and I exchanged amazed looks….

“You’re JOKING,” he exclaimed.

“What?” Why?”  We told her of my communication with granny and her dad’s book on ‘very dense smokes may be raised…’ and she laughed….

“Oh and I have always felt a very strong connection with Native American Indians!”   So granny was lolling across the desk between Laura and her Boss, blowing rolled up Capstan smoke signals to her granddaughter and no doubt influencing her conversation.  What would you do with her?

This was one occasion when it was obviously quite acceptable to smoke on the job!

This is the final part of my story about granny – from her taking possession of my own spirit upon her death so that I would feel exactly what it was like to live through her eyes (such an honour and a token of her love) to all the shenannigans in the previous six posts – which I hope you will have enjoyed as well as learnt something you didn’t know about the workings of the human soul.  No doubt there will be other ‘granny’ stories to tell you about in the future but do please continue to log on for my everyday adventures with spirit!

What else did granny’s spirit get up to?

15 08 2010

Part Six

After Sheila’s passing (meant in the truest sense of the word!) we had lots of her personal belongings to sift through, cupboards to clear and bags of clothes to send to the Salvation Army –  a favourite charity she thought highly of and donated to regularly -but I handled with great reverence the little green box stamped with her initials in gold…S.H. …which contained every little pin badge, button, lock of Michael’s hair and momento that ever meant anything to her.  There was a gold watch that had belonged to her mother and a couple of large ‘rocks’ – rings that I will never wear but suited my mother-in-law down to a tee.  It is quite easy to understand why she regarded my own (treasured) engagement ring as ‘pathetic’ when Michael and I became engaged (He had no qualms about buying it through a friend, wholesale, after I’d chosen it from a catalogue, but I love its dainty star shape and the fact that he fairly passed out with emotion when I agreed to marry him.  He had to go and lie down…without me!)

So the precious green box stayed locked with the original key, from which a gold tassle hung – and was tucked cosily into the bottom of a chest of drawers, along with photos and bits Michael could not bear to part with. 

A few months after her departure from this plane I was getting dressed in my room and pulled open my underwear drawer to get some socks.  To my absolute amazement – there, laying elegantly across my folded knickers, was Sheila’s mother’s gold watch!  I called Michael to witness this strange phenomena.   No-one else had access to Sheila’s jewel box, let alone knew where I had stashed it.  Michael scratched his head in amazement and I closed my eyes and tuned in to granny’s wavelength….I hadn’t spoken to her for weeks, glad that she had decided to settle  down (or ‘up!) on the other side and get on with the business of whatever it is you get on with once you’ve passed (like studying for another visit or in her case the personal scrolls of her family – known as the akashic records – which contain everything you have ever done on the earthplane and aspire to do before you return again!)

“I want you to have it!” she said simply.  And that was that!  I felt deeply honoured and will always treasure this family heirloom and the fact that she wished me, her daughter-in-law, to be the benefactor of such a precious item.  Her stunning diamond and sapphire engagement ring, she said, should be passed on to her precious granddaughter – as we had already envisaged.  How had she (a). opened the heavy drawer where the box was stored (b). removed the box and unlocked it (c). carried the watch upstairs and placed it in my undies drawer and (d). put everything back as it had been before?!

The answer came back that she had not metamorphed into a human and gone through the motions above but had in fact used the power of her mind to teleport the object – just as she had done with the three Irish coins before making them disappear again! “

“Is that really possible?” I asked….”Can anyone do that when they get to the other side?”

“Indeed not,” was the reply, “but in order to further the work you have started, it is a demonstration of the power of the  mind over matter.  Tell them about the garden…”   Now it was my turn to scratch my head.  But I cleared my mind and listened for further clues….”the blackbird!”

Of course!  The blackbird!  Well, granny often comes back in the form of a blackbird. (“Now you can use the word metamorphosed!” she laughed kindly as I had not apparently got it right above – she was a stickler for words and used to sit and jiggle her crossed leg while watching Countdown on tv and scribble away against the clock.  Just for her I checked that word’s meaning -‘ to change the form or nature of; transform’ .)

You may have heard stories like this before.  I certainly remember someone writing in a magazine once that whenever a family member died, a white owl would appear inside the house!  Now, years later I have experienced this phenomena myself, over and over again, with Sheila ‘popping up’ in various places over the past ten years.  One such time was when I left the house at dawn to go and run my first angel workshops about 60 miles away.  Having stashed all my resources in the car I reached out to close the door and jumped as I suddenly spotted a blackbird, sitting stock still on the garden wall not 2 feet away, just staring at me! 

” Don’t worry; all will go very well,” came Sheila’s telepathic thoughts.  “Take your time!”  This  had been a favourite saying of hers, used when I popped in to see if she wanted any shopping or in the early days to drop the children off with her while I dashed off somewhere….”Take your time dear,” she would say.  The workshops couldn’t have gone better. 

A couple of years later I was admitted to hospital with complications from a virus, which caused me to flush with burning heat from head to toe, my heart to race uncontrollably and then a cooling off period of violent tremors.  Very frightening and even more so when the cause could not be found.  Despite having survived open heart surgery that saved my life several years before, this time I felt I was dying for real.  I was discharged after 10 days but re-admitted almost immediately and 5 days later the blood tests at last came up with a diagnosis of Influenza A & B virus.    Throughout my admission I lay facing the one and only small window on that mixed ward and every day….at dusk…a black shape was silhouetted against the sky in the the only tree visible.  It was granny blackbird, calmy reassuring me night after night that it was okay.  That I was going to live another day.

A year or two later, Michael and I were staying at a B&B in Devon and I was taken ill in the night with yet another virus that went for my artificial heart valve and caused similar tachycardia and hot flushes.  When it didn’t abate, Michael phoned for help and first of all a fire engine arrived and two burly fireman rushed up to the room with breathing apparatus, then two medics were passing and took me in their ambulance to Exeter Royal Infirmary where I was parked in Casualty’s reception and hooked up to a monitor.  I drank copious amounts of water and reiki ‘d myself and within hours was released again as everything returned to normal.  Again it was dawn and as Michael came to collect me we walked down a dark alleyway to the car park and were ‘buzzed’ by a blackbird, that flew straight towards me and narrowly missed my head!  ‘Wait here!’ said Michael kindly, wrapping his jacket around me, ‘and I’ll bring the car round’ – and the blackbird re-appeared on the wooden panelled fence directly in front of me and SANG its heart out….the strangest song you have ever heard – that sounded almost human…..”Don’t worry Jane…everything will be alright from now on….you will never have to go through this again!  That’s a promise.”  



How did granny’s spirit travel back to the light?

13 08 2010

Part Five

Granny had finally traversed that life-saving tunnel of light and found herself back at home with her Mother (who tragically died in childbirth when she was 2), her Father (a northern Irish farmer, who also suffered from alzheimers), her Victorian Grandmother (who had brought her up), her kind and rosy-cheeked engineer husband Kenneth (who, sadly, died almost 20 years before her at the relatively young age of 63) – and countless other family members, friends and acquantences from not only her recent lifetime but that of many others!  

When I asked her today about her experience of leaving and arriving on the other side, she told me they had all “enjoyed a little shindig” (a large and noisy party of people!) after she had arrived on her ‘kohlrabi ‘ …”Kohlrabi?  What is that?” I asked, bemused.  The name rang a bell somewhere but, flummoxed, I resorted to looking it up on the internet….To my delight the first site I was directed to was called Vegetarians in Paradise (LOL!) and I’m sure the owner won’t mind me showing you the following, as it  fits so perfectly!:

On the Highest Perch

Kohlrabi Strives for Comeback

How did she do that?  Oh how Sheila herself strove to come back….but instead elected to become a Spirit Guide to her family!  – Acting as a mentor, intervening when needed, leading us in the right direction through our intuition and, as in this case, through her ‘direct line’ to my mind – and her wit!  When I read the following on this website it made even more sense that she chose a kohlrabi as her  (metaphorical) ‘form of transport to the Light!’ –

Kohlrabi For those unfamiliar with this jewel of a vegetable, its appearance somewhat resembles a hot air balloon. Picture the turnip-shaped globe as the passenger section; its multiple stems that sprout from all parts of its globular form resemble the many vertical ropes, and the deep green leaves at the top represent the parachute. Kohlrabi is often mistakenly referred to as a root vegetable, but in fact it grows just above ground, forming a unique, turnip-shaped swelling at the base of the stem.’

Sheila’s family were indeed farmers, but neither her son Michael nor myself ever heard her mention such a vegetable. 

“Dad grew it on the farm,” she says, “You should try it.  It’s packed full of healthy vitamins and nutrients and will give you a great lift” (ha ha)

Come to think of it, her granddaughter only said today ‘Mum, I’m thinking seriously about becoming a vegetarian…‘  Better pass this on then!

Well you learn something new every day!

The power of granny’s mind over matter!

11 08 2010

Part four:

Whilst the body is no longer the vehicle for our journey on earth and is therefore redundant after death, the mind – with all its memories (good and bad) – remains part of the spirit’s back-pack if you like.  Once safely home on the other side this back-pack will be opened and every little thought, word and deed analysed by the owner.  As I have already revealed (in the last three parts of this story) Granny was a feisty one, with a very determined nature and powerful presence, particularly when still alive – so what had changed?

People are naturally scared of  ghosts because to ‘haunt’ their previous homes and accompany their loved ones to places without the dense, physical body of their former selves seems quite bizarre to the human psyche.  To understand that we are using the dense and growing physicality of a body to house our developing spirit, from the day we are born to the day we die, is one thing, but to be convinced that there is a still living ‘other part’ of us  that survives (much lighter in energy and spinning at a higher vibration, with emotional, spiritual and even psychic levels which spin even fasteris not generally talked about among the level-headed, religious and scientifically minded fraternity.  Yet Sheila belonged to all those latter groups – and in death was determined to prove that the mind and the spirit live on!

She hung around for 3 months, her trade mark being a white ‘flash’ of energy most often seen by our daughter and usually when in a ‘sticky’ situation, whether working behind the counter when a ‘difficult’ customer entered the shop in which she worked or during exams when she felt her grandmother’s presence strongly encourage her towards the right answer when she was torn between two! (A great scholar, granny would never advocate cheating!)  But the most incredible acts of ‘magic’ that Sheila performed were months and even years after she finally decided to move over:

Enroute to London (a place granny loved beyond all others) to celebrate Laura’s 18th birthday the following  Christmas we stopped at a motorway services for a break.  It was raining heavily so I pulled into a parking lot as close to the building as possible while the other three passengers – Laura, her boyfriend Leigh and my husband Michael – fumbled inside the claustrophobic vehicle for brollies in order to make a dash for it…But as I opened the driver’s door, there on the paving – as though they had been placed there a split second earlier – were three absolutely bone-dry newly minted IRISH coins!! 

“Oh, I see granny’s come with us!” I laughed, picking up the precious coins and keeping them safely in my palm until I could gather the others to witness this miracle of mind-creating-matter!

Good grief…they’re not even wet!” said Michael. Leigh, not yet used to the strange ways of our family, just took in the vision of three perfect Irish coins in my palm and the fact that Laura’s granny was Irish through and through and loved travelling to London with the family in her ‘living’ days….  The coins looked all shiny and had Irish markings – one each of copper, silver and bronze colours – and wishing to keep them safely for obvious reasons Michael tucked them firmly into the tightly skinned compartment contained deep within his wallet and we went on our way….

It was not until 3 days later that one of us suddenly remembered what had happened and Michael exclaimed in excitement, rushing to retrieve his wallet.  All three coins had gone.  De-materialised as mysteriously as they had materialised! We can’t say we were not disappointed, but we can say that all four of us witnessed a physical manifestation of Sheila’s ‘after life evidence’ from a very determined woman!

To be continued:

“I’ll come back and haunt you!”

10 08 2010

Part Three:

Indeed, Sheila kept to her word!  Pehaps not how she intentionally threatened at the time but nevertheless she gave her now grown-up son the fright of his life only 2 weeks after her funeral.  I had retired to bed before my husband and on the brink of sleep had found myself communicating with his Mum, whose loving presence permeated the room.  Still in an emotional state because of all that had gone before between us; still thinking through the incredible circumstances of her after-death visitation and wondering how she had travelled on a bolt of lightning….I wallowed in her loving energy as we had gentle words between us: 

 “You know you mustn’t stay behind on our account,” I said to her….

I’m just so happy to be free of the restriction of my physical self!” she laughed, “I’m in no hurry to go anywhere soon….Just leave me be…”

In the meantime, Michael had turned off the downstairs lights and ventured up to join me, only to nip back down again…. Seconds later, however, he shot back upstairs like a startled rabbit and leapt into bed beside me, setting my own heart racing with shock! 

“What on earth’s wrong…?” I cried, jolted from my relaxed stupor.

“I…I think I just saw a GHOST,” he whimpered, squeezing my hand tightly, his eyeballs glowing with fear in the darkness.  

“What happened…?”

“… I realised I’d left the light on in the vestibule and as I crossed the hall I sensed there was a presence moving from right to left, going from one door across the hall to another…. As it moved into the second doorway I saw (what can only be described as) a column of mist from shoulder height downwards…!”  Suddenly it dawned on me what had happened and I explained that as I had  been talking to his Mum only seconds before, it must have been her….and I reassured him that her spirit was obviously still inquisitive about the changes to her home…

He sighed with relief, and although still shaken, was able to laugh at the memory of his Mum’s words, spoken in anger at his childhood: “I’ll come back and haunt you one day!” 

However, as she hadn’t actually gone anywhere after the separation of her lighter spiritual energy from her denser physical body – merely floated about on the earth plane – she hadn’t technically ‘come back’ …as she hadn’t yet left!  From over a decade of working in spirit rescue I have ascertained that for approximately 3 months of our earth time (time as we know it doesn’t exist on the other side) the umbilical cord of light which connects our physical body to our spiritual home of origin remains in place and acts as an escape tunnel .  However, over earth time this dissipates slowly until eventually the person who has died loses all sense of direction and becomes stuck in the twilight zone.  As a mere whisper of their former selves, is it any wonder that the light body is often seen as a mist-like substance?

What else did granny get up to?  You wouldn’t believe it!

To be continued:

Granny’s after death shennanigans

7 08 2010

Part Two:

Sixteen year old Laura was sick on the day of granny’s funeral and I said I would leave my phone on vibrate in case she needed me home urgently.  As it happened she was very relaxed and slept peacefully throughout our absence, dreaming that granny was with her, stroking her hair. 

 “I thought I saw a wisp of her energy in the bedroom just after you left,” she said, “but I know it was only granny coming to visit.”

As friends and neighbours crossed the threshhold for Sheila’s after-funeral tea party there was a sudden loud crack of thunder out of an otherwise clear blue sky  – only the second and the last of that summer of 2ooo! – and they turned to look up into the sky.

“Oh it’s just Sheila welcoming you to our home!” I laughed, knowing they would never believe such a thing.

Doing what I do, I was well aware that Sheila was in no hurry to pass over.  She was too busy noseying around her old home, for one!  Since she had been in care for almost two years and unable to see the structural changes we had made to the house (new plumbing, re-wiring, knocking down a small cloakroom to enlarge the kitchen etc.) she was naturally inquisitive.   For the next couple of months her spirit came and went – Often she was round at her sister’s home keeping an eye – and May firmly believed that what I was passing on from her sister was real.  She recalled how Sheila, in the later stages of living with her alzheimers, had said things like ‘who is that lady standing in the corner?’  or ‘sitting on the settee’ – naturally scaring her out of her wits!  Did this mean that  Sheila was seeing spirit – whether earthbound, or family and friends from the other side?  I am assured from the other side that this is so…. When in her ‘right mind’ she had showed no tendency to psychic abilities….Indeed she had a very logical, mathematical attitude to everthing, writing notes from shopping lists to how to drive (she never did as it was impossible to read her notes and operate the gears and the pedals simultaneously!) 

Whilst still at school, Laura had a Saturday job working for a holistic company at a little stall in Nottingham’s Broadmarsh shopping centre.  At quiet times she perched on a stool studying for her exams, one eye on potential customers.  On one such occasion she rang me in a bit of a tizz, saying:

“I think granny is around….I’ve just seen a white swirling energy around the stall only moments after a whole lot of bottles and stock items suddenly flung themselves all over the floor…..with not a customer within 100 yards!”

Tuning in from afar, I was informed by Sheila in no uncertain terms that the ‘dirty old men’ hanging around her granddaughter had been firmly dealt with!  There was no reason to doubt that she had given the earthbound spirits short shrift – and Laura was left to clear up up the cuffuffle!  I was left to seek out the two vagrants and apologise, helping them to leave their wandering status (they were both alcoholics) – but unable to persuade granny to go into the light…at least not just yet:  She was too busy enjoying her newfound ability to teleport at will….which was a little unsettling as you could never be sure of privacy and often found yourself looking over your shoulder…for various reasons!

One day I was in the kitchen doing the washing up at the sink overlooking the garden when I felt a firm, warm hand on my shoulder and turning my head expected to see our son standing there – as this is a particular gesture of his.  Instead there was just empty space filled with love and my cheeks once again overflowed with joy at granny’s desire to make amends for the way she had treated me during her lifetime.

I emphasised that there was no need to apologise – that I know her fears and attitudes were moulded into her personality due to her experience of losing her mother (for one) aged only 2, of her father’s unintentional use of her as a labourer on their farm, her responsibility for bringing up her little sister, her step-mother’s favouritism for  her half-sisters…and so it went on…added to which she had been bombed out 3 times in London during the Blitz .  All this had made her a hard woman.

When Michael was small he exhibited a lot of the Irish genes and was his own little man, which irritated his plant-loving mother to the point where she once chased him with a kitchen knife when he lopped all the heads off her beautiful dahlias with his imaginary sword games, and locked him in the cellar.  When she released him hours later she was dismayed to find him grinning all over his cheeky 7 year old chops and holding up a toy car left by a previous occupant of the house…. There was many a time, in her exasperation, that she threatened to ‘come back and haunt you!’… but he didn’t take her seriously, until now….

To be continued!

The miracle of granny’s death and new life

5 08 2010

Part One:

I’ve decided to write this real life story in separate blogs, as it takes place over a ten year period from 2000 to date, and contains incredible details of granny’s amazing death experience, her in-between time as a ‘ghost’ and her after-life shennanigans….!

My strong and upright mother-in-law died a very demeaning death from the dreaded disease of alzheimers.  She had always dressed smartly and carried a handbag on her arm, was very polite to strangers and neighbours but a little scarey when her Irish roots occasionally let rip….a real force to be reckoned with when it came to protecting her family!   When her son once narrrowly missed a mother and a child in her pushchair as they stepped into the path of his reversing car, he had shouted ‘you stupid woman!’ to her.  Quite rightly too, the woman’s husband approached the open car window and said ‘don’t speak to my wife like that!‘ – and had the surprise of his life when the kindly old lady sitting in the back seat had leapt forward weilding her handbag at the bemused chap and shouted ‘you shut your gob!’ 

A very intelligent woman who played bridge regularly and once won a prize for completing the Sunday Telegrap’s crossword, it was quite a shock when we realised she was losing her short term memory.  Aged 82 and after only a year she declined rapidly, trying to leave her home at dead of night to ‘go and find a job’ or ‘check up on dad’, who had passed on many years previously and, worst of all, unwittingly abusing the sister who tried so lovingly to care for her.  And for whom she had cared for all her life after the death of their mother during her birth.  Eventually she needed constant supervision and it was a relief when she said ‘this place means nothing to me anyway’ and moved without a fuss.  

Normally such a kind and empathic person, she had always said ‘poor wee things’ when she saw anybody in a wheelchair or not in their right mind and ironically,  ‘I hope I don’t ever get like that’…so when, several months down the line, she had become a shadow of her former self, it broke our hearts.

Now here we were, visiting again in her nice room overlooking the grounds of the pleasant care home, but a nurse laughed nervously as we entered, saying she didn’t particularly feel comfortable around Sheila as ‘strange things sometimes happen’.

What do you mean?” Michael asked….

Well I was making the bed and out of the corner of my eye I could see the pillow I’d placed on the table was moving…and it started to spin round and round of its own accord…getting faster and faster! Your mum was just sitting staring at me and I felt it quite unnerving,” she laughed, understandably bewildered.

What did you do?” he asked.

I just knocked it on to the floor…it was scarey!” she admitted, and then slunk out of the room.   I looked at Sheila, who always had a mischievous twinkle in her eye, despite her lack of awareness of who we were.  I had ‘introduced’ her to our teenage son and daughter in turn, as they were unlikely to see their granny again on this side of the veil.  Her face lit up like a lamp as love just poured from her eyes and she took each of them by their hands and said ‘so pleased to meet you!’ 

And so it was that several months down the line the nursing home warned us of Sheila’s inevitable but sharp decline and her refusal to eat.  Michael took a week off work and together we sat beside his mum, now a bag of bones, and talked lovingly to her of her ‘days on the farm in Ireland, her adventures in Berlin, when she worked for Sir Paul Chambers with the Claims Commission at the end of the war – and where she met Michael’s father Kenneth.’  She did not move; her breathing was rasping and it seemed her time was fast approaching.

However, she held on to life as we know it by a thin thread. Michael had to return to work, so I offered to sit with her.  I decided to be honest with her and let her know how terrified I had been of her, as a young bride who somehow felt she never lived up to her mother-in-law’s high expectations for her only son. Many a time I trembled at the powerful disapproving looks flashed towards her husband and wondered what it was I had done this time….was it the way I held my cutlery….or the fact I said ‘pleased to meet you’ instead of ‘how do you do?’  Sheila had been brought up by a strict Victorian grandmother and it showed!

Whilst still in her own home but sliding backwards into her child-like personality,  I continued to set her hair in rollers each week, and was touched when she turned to gaze at my little star-shaped diamond engagement ring, taken off while I squirted mousse over the rollers to set them in.

“Oh what a lovely ring!” she had cried, bringing joy to my heart:  Twenty years earlier she had refused to come to our wedding, saying – among other hurtful things (due to fear) – that Michael had bought me a ‘pathetic’ ring.  One advantage of losing her memory was that she also lost her memory of all that had passed between us.  Each time I set her hair and gave her strict instructions not to remove the rollers until her hair was dry (“of course I won’t…I’m not that silly!“) – and wrote a note to this effect which she clutched to her bosom as I left – I would return home only to get a frantic phone call from May to say “she took them out when I wasn’t looking!”

After 3 hours sitting with Sheila (her sister lost for words) I decided to return home for a bit of shut eye and return around tea time.  Ten minutes later I felt my tired bones relax onto my soft bed and closed my eyes.  Suddenly a flash of lightning flung them open again and my head was drawn towards the source of the light at the windowIn that split second, I felt my mother-in law’s spirit overlap with my own and knew that she had come to see me.  In that split second I knew everything about her; I felt every emotion she had ever felt; I understood her totally.  There was a clap of thunder…and the phone rang.  It was the matron at the nursing home.  ‘Sheile is worsening.  Can you return asap?’

I hurriedly dressed again, picked May up from her house and was at the home within minutes.  As the matron opened the heavy front door she lowered her head sadly. 

“I’m sorry.  She’s gone….”

“There was a rumble of thunder…” I said.

That’s when she went.”

To be continued:

Would you really say ‘boo’ to a ghost?

2 08 2010

A few weeks ago Derren Brown set out to investigate an American  ‘serious ghost hunter’, who called himself a ‘demonologist’.  This man had apparently investigated 1,000’s of haunted houses ‘making the ghostly and demonic come out so they can be dealt with’…..This is when I sat up and took notice.  Firstly, I cringe when I hear people categorise ‘ghosts and demons’  into the same pile of fear and misunderstanding.

1.  A Ghost is just a person like you or me who has failed, for some reason or another, to make the transition back to the light after their death.  A ghost could therefore be your mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, friend, granny, grandfather….or a mere stranger.  What would you give to help such a loved one…or a mere stranger…out of their terrifying predicament?

2.  A demon is not of the light AND IS AS RARE AS HENS’ TEETH!  The chance of meeting a real life (or death) demon are virtually nil.  However, if you have a card on your table which reads ‘Evil on it (duh!) – as did the woman in the documentary who was being bothered by a ‘demon’ who ‘ordered her to kill her husband’ ….well then you are asking for trouble anyway!  LIKE ATTRACTS LIKE.  The same goes for those who choose to gamble with OIJA BOARDS!  If you choose to play games with the dead you are rolling a dice with the dark side!

A demon is actually not human at all.  It is an energy. It is a conglomoration of  negative thought forms such as FEAR, ANGER, HATRED, JEALOUSY, VIOLENCE, DEATH and CARNAGE that  creates a beingIt thrives on these thought forms.  But a nasty, angry, frustrated, vindictive person  who dies and becomes a ghost is just that: a ghost, not a demon. Just as when he or she was alive, a ghost such as this is not an ex-someone you wish to share your space with, especially if they throw things about and wish to harm you.  But even a person such as this can be persuaded to move into the light (if you know what you are doing!) – where they themselves take a look at the way they lived their life and decide upon the course needed to balance their actions.  This is called karma. Don’t forget that people who behave like this are usually reacting to the learnt experiences of their lifetimes, ie negative early parenting, abuse, bullying at school, damage to their personal power etc.

It is very rare to actually see a ghost. If you do, don’t be afraid.  It is fear of the unknown that makes your hackles rise, your heart race.  It is a misunderstanding of the nature of ghosts that feeds your fear, but here we  have a paradox:  People love to hear about hauntings; they love to sit on the edge of their seats while so called ‘ghost hunters’ creep about in the dark, their eyeballs glowing with special effects, gasping and twitching at every strange noise!  And yet they are usually men of a scientific nature.  I have no wish to change their views on the natural movement of energy from one state to another at the death of the physical body, but when they act all macho and brave when they enter a haunted location, only to taunt these so-called ‘green blobs of jelly’ – LOL!  it is sad.  Sad for the ghosts and sad that they themselves could one day find themselves in the same predicament.

In the Victorian era people used to pay to stare at lunatic assylum inmates, poor souls.  We have moved on from bear baiting and freak shows so why is it so hard for people to step into the shoes of a lost soul and imagine their confusion and suffering?  The majority of human beings misunderstand the nature of a ghost‘Come out and show you are a man!’ or ‘knock three times to show us you are here!‘  How ridiculous is this?  Would you say that to your own loved ones? 

Watching that programme the other night I tuned in and helped dozens of souls labelled as ‘demons’  – from little old ladies to naughty children, and mischievous and confused souls.  The ghosthunter really believed that he was helping ordinary people be rid of what he saw as ‘negative forces of evil’.  A house he described as being ‘possessed by demons to be driven out’ in fact contained 22 ordinary people just like you and me who had become lost after their deaths. Just try it for yourself.  If you sense a ghostly presence do not be afraid but speak out loud to the person, just as you would if someone fell at your feet in the street or was involved in some sort of accident. Say something like:

“I know you are lost and I would like to help you.  Look towards the light and see that someone is calling you home!’  Offer to hold their hand and help them into the light, but be sure to tune in to the vibration of pure love by saying a prayer at the same time.  You have to step out of the fear and into the love!  It doesn’t matter if you can’t see them.  Just act out this kind offer of help.  When I met my first ghost I said the Lord’s Prayer , at the same time asking God to release the lost soul from his predicament.   If you wish with all your heart for the ghost to move into the light (and don’t forget he or she is suffering; imagine what it must be like when nobody can hear, see or feel you and you are stuck in limbo)  then you are opening up a tunnel of love and light, along which they can escape.  If you need any help with this just get in touch!

In the eleven years I have been working with troubled, confused and disorientated ghosties I have only ever had to deal with evil entites a handful of times (That’s MILLIONS of souls who are just lost and need a loving, guiding hand homewards again!)  Yes, because of the very nature of my work I have been psychically attacked by a genuine nasty or two…but they always find LOVE and LIGHT repellant and soon scarper back to the darkness, which incidentally is not ‘night time’ but is a black hole out of which it will never crawl unless it has negative energy to feed upon.  Imagine if we all existed in the essence of love and positivity; these (very rare) evil creepy crawlies could not exist!  The essential thing is to be fearless, as it is fear that lights their fire!  Surround yourself with protective angels (just ask!); know that you are safe; think loving thoughts.  

Derren Brown achieves his results using a combination of, in his own words,  “magic, suggestion, psychology, misdirection and showmanship:  ‘I admit cheating, as it’s all part of the game. I hope some of the fun for the viewer comes from not knowing what’s real and what isn’t. I am an entertainer first and foremost, and I am careful not to cross any moral line that would take me into manipulating people’s real-life decisions or belief systems’…Having remained calm and charming in this American ghostbuster’s home, whilst his trusting victim shared what he passionately believed were exciting revelations of sound recordings, footage of a live ‘exorcism’ and ghostly photographs, our man finally moved in for the kill.  Cooly and calmly he ‘exposed the loopholes’ in this Ghostbuster’s dreams by inviting men of science to poo-poo the voices he thought he heard on his machine as mere ‘static’ and even labelling the cases of ‘possession’ as something that the medical world knows happens to highly stressed people now and again.   The latter showed ‘evidence’ of a woman arching her back during a ‘medical’ fit. 

During this latter footage I grasped the opportunity to dowse the poor woman and in that short time removed 40 earthbound souls and allowed them to enter the light of home.  Think of it from an energetic point of view.  We are all made of electrical charges (atoms) and if there is some interference from another source of electricity that is not on the same ‘wavelength’ as our own (negatively charged, depressed ghosts for example) there eventually becomes a breakdown in our electrical circuit

Back to the above programme, the ghostbuster was visibly stressed by DB’s attempts to discredit the work for which he lived.  He swore; he reacted like anyone would who felt duped by someone he had grown to trust.  Did our man notice the look of betrayal and dismay on that man’s face?  I did:  Shockingly, at the culmination of the programme a few lines announced the sad death of this middle-aged man  (only 40 and just months after filming) ‘due to a physical illness’.  I checked the condition of his soul.  This man – who had moved gracefully through the veil and finally found the truth about life after death – said of the programme:

“Don’t believe a word of it! Poppycock!  Ghosts DO exist.  I am one of the lucky ones.  (He didn’t become another ghostly statistic) Please say hello to my wife and reassure her I have passed to a better life….DB has exclusivity to wind people up… I was stressed!  His so-called investigation totally unnerved me.  Men of science speak through their butts!  Their time will come.  He discredited me.  I felt raw.  Radio waves ARE the voices of the dead!”

Of course, every soul is entitled to his opinion, even after he or she has moved safely to another world.  Would you still say ‘boo’ to a ghost?

orbs of earthbound souls enjoy the wedding party

30 07 2010

This weekend gone we all piled into the car in Nottingham and drove to our neice’s wedding down in Dorset – getting caught up in traffic near Stonehenge but making it in 4 hours, with an hour to get ready in the B&B…phew!  The day was magical, with a fairytale church wedding; Beccy looking like a princess and Ben her handsome prince in his service uniform.

After the ceremony we made our way to the village hall in Stalbridge for speeches, catching up with friends and family and, of course, a bit of a boogee!  Never one to turn down the opportunity to dance, I was both flattered (because he was at least 30 years younger than me) and surprised when a young man invited me to girate with him along to Shakeera….wonderful!  But the two of us weren’t the only life and ‘souls’ of the moment – as another was having the time  of his life (or death) intermingling with us too, and referring to himself as the Dancing Queen!

I popped to the ladies to check him out.  He was deliriously happy to be sharing in the joy and energy of our happy family occasion and completely unaware that he was a mere spectre of his former self.  In these circumstances it is difficult to know where to begin to explain the ramifications of staying earthbound – not that they would know what ‘being stuck’ means.  He was still ‘making up’ alongside me when I stood not quite alone in front of the mirror washing my hands and I decided to leave him to enjoy the rest of the fun for now.

Another soul of a very different nature hung around the bar area, people watching. He did not wish to correspond; in fact didn’t even seem to be aware that I could see him.  He looked dishevelled, as tho’ he had returned from a very late night out, a long black untied dickie bow dangling round his white shirt neck.  He smoothed back his brillcreamed hair and moved to a seat in which an attractive (living) young girl perched innocently ‘on his lap’!  With nothing to say; no reason to converse with me, I called him ‘Trickie Dickie’ (maybe it had been tricky for him to tie his dickie bow?)  I spotted him later holding a drink in his hand and sidling round the bigger tables in the main hall, ‘smoking a cigar’ and stubbing it out in (an imaginary) ashtray. 

And how had these poor souls lost their lives?  Dancing Queen had died from a drug overdose; Trickie Dickie had (amazingly) fallen from a speeding car.  Neither were locals but had come in with the wedding party (who had travelled from all round the country). I hadn’t noticed them in the church as all eyes were obviously on the handsome couple, but subsequently noted their orbs on the photograph above, taken as the couple left after the service…(obligingly passing across the back of Alan’s jacket so they could be seen)

Lots of piccies were taken by many, including myself, which I transferred to facebook asap for the rest of the family to peruse (and moan about themselves being caught at the wrong angle etc.!)   As I was doing so I noticed the orbs of the two very different personalities…..

Tricky Dicky standing behind Linda and Dancing Queen loving the Baby!

Two piccies in which Trickie Dickie and Dancing Queen appeared (behind the girls above and at the elbow admiring the Baby and below, in front of Holly the Chief Bridesmaid’s skirts!)

After death, the human spirit returns rather like a bubble to the ‘soapsuds in the sky’  but if for some reason he or she stays behind their ‘orb’, which contains their spirit energy, is the vehicle by which they move from place to place.  Normally invisible to the naked eye,  it has now become quite common for orbs to show up on digitally enhanced snaps.  Not all ‘orbs’ contain spirit…sometimes spots of moisture, raindrops, snowflakes etc. can be mistaken for genuine orbs.  If they contain spirit energy (even angels, fairies, spirit guides, visitors from other planes) and therefore have an intelligence they can be corresponded with by psychically attuned people. 

American Ghosts use British answerphone for help

28 07 2010

My dear friend Lisa emailed me to say she was discussing  ‘Tsunamis’ and telling her work colleague about her experiences of the hurricane season in America (where she used to live) when suddenly their answer machine switched itself on – even though it is no longer connected to their telephone system!  Similar to those ‘ghost rappers’ who switched on our redundant radio (see a previous blog), Lisa and her friend  heard a ‘background noise’, which made her feel ‘a bit strange’… (no doubt the combined energies of these lost souls pushing at her own!)

It was late and I was rather tired as I dowsed Lisa’s answer machine ….(Mike was listening to a noisy Victorian Pharmacy programme on the tv – and  a well-meaning woman was cackling loudly) and so I strained to hear the locations of ‘Colorado’ and ‘Mississippi’ – Visions of their last terrifying moments – flyng debris, logs gushing down rivers, houses smashing like matchsticks – were accompanied by screams and cries for help as each soul in turn was thrown a lifeline.  My spirit guides said they were ‘from the backwaters’…..and in only a few minutes of clutching tightly to my dowser (for dear life!) 125 earthbound spirits were saved.  On yet another like-attracts-like basis, by talking about the subject, Lisa had provided the perfect portal for their rescue!

As I type this blog, news has just come in of a plane crashing into the Margalla hills after leaving Karachi and killing all 146 passengers on board, as well as the 6 crew.

My first instinct when I hear of such tragedies is to tune in and offer help to any souls who may still be entangled in the horror of the crash – and one by one I was able to hook 3 such shocked souls up and into the light.  This puts into perspective the natural pull of the deceased person to return to their original birthplace on the other side – only 3 becoming disorientated (and in danger of becoming stuck in this state of fear and confusion for ever) out of a total of 152.

Lisa is a light worker in her own right and trusty assistant to lost souls.  All she had to do was direct them to me so that I could rescue them.

ghostly ‘weights and measures’ lady haunts pub

20 07 2010

Mike and I sat noshing a delicious pub meal in Lodsworth, Sussex – part of our anniversary treat to celebrate 31 years of togetherness – when a ghostly apparition flitted in and out of my peripheral vision, but as I had taken off my working hat (rescuing spirits) and replaced it with my ‘rest and play’ one I just made a mental note of the woman staring straight at me as though I were a ghost (ha ha) and would help her later….

It is hard to disassociate yourself from lost souls but I was fortunate that only two ghosts haunted the Hollist Arms.  The second, also a female, introduced herself as Ebony and intermittently throughout the happy banter with the friendly bar staff and change of courses I stopped to observe her.  Sometimes she held her skirts and danced with happiness, but on one occasion I saw her sitting at an empty table  playing with a calculater.  (I was dying to ask the staff if their machines ever went missing but didn’t wish to blow my enjoyable cover!)

Later that evening, back at the B & B, I tuned in to find Ebony again and she was shocked!

“Are you a sorceress?” she asked bluntly.

Of sorts!” I laughed.   “Would you like to tell me a little about yourself before you go back home to your spirit family and friends?”  Before she could answer she was lifted with gusto, bless her, as my dowser spun wildly!  I gleaned information from my spirit guides that she was a 1930’s era waitress; and I could see that she wore a black dress and white frilly pinny and matching hat.  She wasn’t from the village but ‘connected to an ash tray’….(described as ‘iconic’ – ie typical Art Deco in style)  Perhaps there had been such an ash tray in the pub and she had been attracted there on a like attracts like basis?  Then it occurred to me that a gaggle of girls had lolled on the squishy sofa during our meal, one of them saying that the last time she had sat there was from 3 pm to ‘throwing out time’ and that she’d been ‘battered’ (drunk)!  They frequently extracated themselves from the soft leather seats for frequent smoke breaks in the garden….I was also told that Ebony had worked in a tea room in Chichester…also West Sussex.

Suddenly remembering the other lady ghost who observed me from the bar area throughout the evening, ‘trying to suss you out’, I tuned in before sleep and passed on Matilda – who left extremely quickly and the only information forthcoming was that she ‘worked for weights and measures‘ and was ‘inspecting the pub’s measures for beer and SPIRITS!’

Such adventures!

soldiers’s spirits helped home after surprise attack by Afghan

13 07 2010

Fresh from burying my beloved canary Myrtle, who I found ‘asleep’ on the floor of her cage this morning, I sat and cried some more.  Yes, she was only a bird, but she had a special place in the hearts of our family.  Rescued from the pet department of our local garden centre only last year and aged only 12 weeks, she had been sitting alone on a long perch in an enormous cage, a little bit tatty, not pretty enough to have been bought along with other handsome pairs of bright yellow birdies.  My son asked ‘would you like to have her for your birthday mum?’ and after a discussion about whether she would get on with our other male canary – a birthday present from him 5 years ago – and the purchase of a large spanking new cage, Myrtle settled in nicely and she and Woodstock eventually got to know one another and canoodled up close of an evening. 

Now here we were, burying her in a little box previously used for Camomile tea (for peace and calm), and planting a beautiful colourful gerbera plant above her, tucking them into their bed at the bottom of the garden.  Woodstock carried on preening himself as though nothing had happened.  Myrtle’s spirit had flown, just passed over as she slept in a little fluffy ball in the corner of her cage.  She had been only 13 months old and it seemed poignant that today’s date is the 13th.  Sadly, my sister’s baby died from a heart virus aged only 13 months and I was once lost in a dark tunnel of illness, close to death, for exactly 13 months, way back in 1984….

I came in to rest my back and have a soothing cup of camomile and switched on my laptop to check my emails – the previous night and this morning I had been working on sick children and, sure enough, reassurance that they had bounced back to health ‘just like that’ made me cry again.

Then I turned to the latest news.  Three soldiers (not yet named) have been killed by an Afghan soldier – someone trusted to fight alongside the soldiers in their unbelievably hard battle against the Taliban.  The number of British military personnel killed on operations in Afghanistan since 2001 stands at 317 – I have checked every last one and helped many on their way.  I picked up my dowser: number one was frantic….‘I don’t want to leave; I don’t want to leave!’  After a sudden abhorrent death such as his, this is only natural.  At least my Myrtle went in her sleep.  Like many of the poor troops before him, this poor man’s death had been so sudden that his spirit, his consciousness,  shot out of his body and still hovered, in shock, disbelief, concern for his relatives and their grief….I cried along with him.  My throat ripped out, the tears rolled down my cheeks, but I carried on cradling his spirit in my heart….‘Please listen to me….I promise you everything will be alright…I PROMISE!’  He stopped struggling and it was a hard job lifting his spirit, but my dowser spun on and on and on, until at last he was back where he should be, where he would be tended to by loving spirit nurses, counsellors and family members who had previously passed.  With little time to come to terms with their sudden deaths, and observing the escape hatch taken by their colleague, the second and third soldiers followed quickly on his tail. 

It has only been hours since their deaths but and, from my eleven years experience in helping trapped spirits to leave, I know they would have up until 3 months to find their way to the light – but better to be sure they wouldn’t become yet another statistic of lost souls haunting the earthplane.  From their healed and enlightened perspective on the other side they are better placed to observe, comfort and influence their loved ones left behind on the earthplane.  A very sad day, but life goes on – whether you are a delicate yellow canary or a brave British soldier.

Ghost rappers ‘turn on the white noise man!’

6 07 2010

Whilst on a snatched visit to my parents in Cornwall this long weekend past (a round 660 plus miles) I hoped to have a rest from spirit rescue, but as usual it was not to be!  Within hours of arrival at their seaview home overlooking St Michael’s Mount Dad pointed out the lights flashing on his car (‘they know you’ve arrived!’ he laughed) and I quickly cleared a large batch of  souls gathered together for onward transmission to the light.  Day Two found a repeat of this performance as another load arrived – trawled (ha ha) from the graves of sea-related earthbound souls from around the wider coastline (This is the 5th or 6th time my guides have used my parents four way flashers to catch my attention…)

Preparing tea on the Saturday, I snapped off large delicious smelling tomatoes from their vine stalk and sniffed in the wonderful aroma.  Seconds later, as I continued to busy myself chopping spring onions and the like, a misty veil descended like a cone-shaped hat being placed gently over my crown.  It tingled gently, like a delicate lacy cobweb, gradually being spun over the next minute or so, downwards to reach my heart.  I smiled; it was the association with the tomatoes that had opened up the mind-connect portal via the sense of smell associated with the psychic nose chakra – an unseen energy centre located inches from the end of the neb!  This psychic connection with my Higher Self allowed souls in the category of ‘tomato pickers’ to push gently on my heart centre… I fished for my dowser, which spun furiously while I continued with my spare hand to prepare my salad, my mind in loving neutral!  Later, my guides informed me that over 350 souls had passed through this ‘lettuce spinner’ of love! (My parents always joke that I could eat lettuce until it comes out of my ears!)

Many other sessions of spirit release ensued over that long weekend, from helping my father by clearing his physical pain, to remote clearing of a young nephew with a sickness virus in Somerset….But in between I did manage to visit Trebah Gardens (taken by the satnav down miles of narrow lanes only just wide enough to allow the car through, with many ‘whoops’ incidents of reversing backwards and squeezing into hedgerow to allow oncoming vehicles to manoevre through!), paddle in the sea, walk 4 miles over to Peranuthnoe with my son and dog, have Sunday lunch out at a pub and do some shopping……so I can’t complain! 

Back home, a sleepless night of yet more dowsing (on my own son, who had somehow contracted his own sickness virus/tummy upset, despite living miles from my nephew and never having contact with him!) brought me to this morning, zombie-eyed and eating porridge in front of  daytime television.  There was an interesting programme about a small but feisty woman who had managed to ‘turn her London estate around’ from a fear-provoking run-down area for the residents into a smart, happy place with proper lighting at night time and many facilities such as playing areas for little ones, youth clubs and safe grassy relaxation areas for adults.  By working hard with local counsellors charitable trusts and the like, she had managed to generate over a million pounds to transform and regenerate the area and make it a better place in which to live!  What a woman! She  was shown encouraging people on a fear-infested run-down estate in Bristol to form a Residents Association to get things changed for the better.  They were shown around her own improved facilities, including a ‘recording studio’ for youths, which has succeeded in keeping them off the streets.  A youngster from Bristol watched in awe as a black rapper wearing earphones sang his own song…..

After I’d switched off the television and fetched some clean drinking and bathing water for my pet canaries, I turned towards the door and got the fright of my life!  …Suddenly a loud rollercoaster of whooshing white noise burst forth from the (previously redundant!) radio alongside the birds’ cage!  We had only ever used the machine for playing music cd’s but now the red light had been switched on by an unseen entity and the volume turned up FULL!  The static shrieked out at me  – providing a gangplank for ‘rappers and the like’ – those from run-down council estates – hoodies – those involved in drugs and poverty – bringing with them visions of slums and darkness and fear – to cross into my living room!

I reached deeply into the pocket of my dressing gown for my ever-present dowser and 65 souls hustled together for instant teleportation to a much better life on the other side –  after which someone said they’d landed in the Carnegie Estate’  as they arrived home.  I was immediately intrigued, and wonder if this could be a metaphor for entrepeneur Andrew Carnegie, Scottish-American philanthropist who gave 90 percent of his massive wealth to charitable causes?  (1835-1919) He features in my latest book (to be published in 2011) as I found his wanting, lost soul, via a Biography found in a National Trust second-hand bookshop several years ago! 

Intrigued, I typed ‘Carnegie Estate’ into Google – and came out with the fact that in 1916 he bought an Estate named Shadowbrook, in Massachusetts.……An aptly named if very different kind of estate, perhaps, but no doubt one which he had been re-created for the after-life enjoyment of those deceased residents of those run down council estates!  What a man!

Why does George Bernard Shaw stay earthbound?

29 06 2010

A particularly psychic client of mine had already been cleared of many hundreds of hangers on – earthbound spirits who had attached themselves to him over his lifetime – and others who had cadged a lift to my healing room, the ‘higher forces that be’ knowing that they would be guided homewards with love…..after which I instructed Paul to breathe in and out of his energy centres, imagining he was opening the relevant big coloured flower on the in-breath (bringing energy to the centre of what we call the chakra, through his intention), holding it for as long as possible, then releasing the unwanted energy with his exhalation – at the same time squeezing closed the petals.  This never fails to work – and as well as moving negative/unwanted energy, any spirits trapped deeper inside the body are also released for onward transition to the light.

As Paul opened and closed the pink and green flowers over and behind his heart centre a ‘Bernard Shaw’ took advantage of this technique and joyfully moved over, to the swirling of my dowser.  “George” came back the helpful confirmation that this was indeed the playwright George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)  At the end of the session I mentioned this again to Paul and immediately ‘a relative’ was ‘sent for’….flying over so quickly I only just caught her name, which sounded like Elwyn…. “Wasn’t Bernard Shaw from Wales?” he asked, suggesting perhaps this was a Welsh name.  (He was in fact Irish) Later on I sat at our garden table breathing in the stillness of this hot summer’s afternoon, and tested the spiritual waters to see if Shaw wished to contribute to ‘what if spirits could blog?’   I was not disappointed!

“Let’s conduct this interview properly!” he suggested sternly, and I grabbed pen and paper.

“Why did you stay behind after your death?” I asked, puzzled. 

“To look after my sister Ellin (short for Elinor); ailing; poorly; sickly; …she died of influenza at a tender age.  As I lay dying I spied her ghostly apparition…tried to take her with me but she would not come, so I stayed behind in the void of nothingness to keep my darling sister company…it’s as simple as that!”  (Subsequent research confirmed he had a sister Elinor Agnes who was born in 1855, but sadly died in 1876 – no cause of death found – which means she did only live until 21)

“Did you seek out Paul to bring you  here for help?”

I myself was a sharp wit.  Your man is a good man.  Lived a little, but what is life for if its not for living?” he guffawed. “Like me, he’s a smarty-pants!”

“So did you follow him from any particular place?”

“No; you called via your combined psychic hearts…”

“Can you tell me about the circumstances surrounding your death?”

“I was a decrepit old man counting jelly beans!” (Laughs) “One for me; one for you…” (“Eh?”)…”One for me (the old bastard whose body I was stuck in), one for you….(whoever would play!)” (Research confirmed he died of renal failure but lived to 92!)  He continued to explain about the moment of his death…”As my spirit drifted from that old bastard who was me I caught sight of Ellin in my periferal vision. ‘Stay with me!’ she implored….

“So she had an awareness of her position as well as yours?”

“That is so….This is boring…Do we have to go through all this?  I have only booked a short time to speak with you!” (That was telling me!)

“Ok, fire away.  The way is clear!”  To my surprise, he dictated a poem, entitled ‘A Poet’s Lot’, which I have tried to replicate here….he spoke so quickly and so passionately: “A Poet’s Lot/ Stuffed inside a teapot/eating sarnies of smoked ham and pickled jam/ Ready to be poured out and sipped down gullets of party goers/ guests on quests to eat the food of knowledge/ Chew it well/ Wash it down with Earl Grey, Marmaduke and Dozey Dan/ All who walked as human man/ Strain the tea/ Not too strong/ Not too weak / Sweeten well but watch your teeth! (Grins with blackened ones!) Abundance!/ Life!/ Fill to the brim!/ Crippled! / Stuck up to their knees in a quagmire of their own making/ Full to the brim/ Theirs for the taking / Hold your nose against the stink of rotted corpses/ floating motionless in hell/ It’s wit you want?/ It’s wit you get! / Dim wit, sad wit, glad wit, motionless in hell/ Billows fan the students Morgan and Son (people known to me!)/ Strike while the iron’s Luke warm! (again, Luke is known to me)…Now the dowser spins on and on clearing some ‘inocuous substance from (his) sight‘….and our connection fades out as I am led to move from one person known to me, to another….helping to clear them all of ‘inocuous substances’.  What a day! What an experience.

Midsummer Nightmare of Yorkshire Ripper’s victims

27 06 2010

The longest night.  I toss and turn.  The clock chimes midnight and I throw back the feather duvet and scuttle to the window to gaze out on to the moonlit garden.  Are there any fairies?  I squint towards the dimly lit lawn.  All is at peace.  There is no sound.  All the shadowy borders seem benign.   The angels in the marshmallowy sky of pinks and sticky hues of whites and blues tuck me back to bed.   A smile soothes me back to dreamland, but I toss and turn.  Toss and turn.  Too hot.    The clock now mocks.  1.45 am.  Throw back and forth the covers until finally, such bliss in sinking sleep.    Awake again!  It’s 3 pm.  I need the loo but an accompanying, mocking voice floats there and back with my senseless mind. 

Will you forgive ME?  Will you forgive MEEEEE…..?”  I shake off my zombie robes and clamber back to bed.  Mikey stirs.  ‘Are you okay?’ He has to be up for 8 to go to London.

 “John Sutcliffe was a murderer wasn’t he?” I whisper stupidly.  He answers loud and clear: 

 “I think his name is ‘Peter’…Known as the Yorkshire Ripper I think, but he’s not dead.”

 “Strange.  I could have sworn he spoke to me!”  The words I’d written in my last blog came back to haunt me: ‘Everybody deserves a second chance!’  (“Will you forgive ME?…” ) In consciousness I tousle with that magic word  FORGIVENESS.  -‘ But ‘my’ murderer’s act was not premeditated!  I must be dreaming.  Go back to sleep. ‘ I jump awake.  ‘Children! He murdered children…..?’

3.40 am: duvet on then off again. I swoop and catch my fleeing midsummer’s nightmare like a moth in a net; careful not to crumble its wings to dust on this Longest of Nights.  I fetch back the woman wandering in etheric space; still sleeping in her earthly body.  She is a journalist and used to telling stories.  She says she is the living  twin of one of Sutcliffe’s victims! 

“I was interviewed by police when my sister went missing.  Only 5, I couldn’t remember anything!  I feel so guilty.  It was my fault!”  

“What happened?”  …(Come dawn, I rush to record into earthly matter her story,  pull still lucid memories from that sticky candyfloss of restless, magic fairy night):  The girls play happily by the brook, lost in a world of their own.  In those days it was perfectly acceptable.  Only 100 yards from home.

“Dad made us fishing nets from mum’s old stockings, cut off from the knee. He twists some wire into a circle and sticks the pointy bit down the neck of a bamboo cane.  That was the dangerous bit.  We help  Mum sew the stockings on: great big stitches looped around the rim; not much space inside for fishing!  Dad says he made the nets especially small for his girls to go fishing.  Down by the brook. Sticklebacks like mermaids. Colours dazzle like jewels!  Chase them. Trap them. They wriggle to get free.  Lift them out of their hiding places.  They try to swim away.  The hoop is hard.  Little hands clumsy.  Some suffer. Others flounder inside the nylon once worn around my Mother’s feet.  They leap for their lives.  Stick to the side.  Chubby hands clumsy. Tip the mermaids into the glass jar.  They swim again.  In crystal clear water.  Such joy!  Such freedom!  Such colour glinting in the sun.”  Smiling faces of little girls.  Proudly running to show their mum:

“Where’s Helen? …”

“Oh she’s coming Mummy….She’s only got one in her jar.  I got three.”

“Wash your hands it’s time for tea.”  It’s 8 pm. …

“What happened Rita?”

 “What do you mean?”  Tears. 

“Don’t force her.”

“Where’s my sister?”

“Down the lane beside the brook…  Interview the slow worms: Daddy says they’re special underground detectives.  Mustn’t be disturbed!’    They found her jar beside the stream.  Lonely.  Still upright.  One mermaid swimming round and round; dreaming of its natural home.  A policeman crouches. 

“Is this the jar?” He dons white gloves. He tips the mermaid gently back into the waters of the bubbling brook.  She swims for her life.  Free again.  Happy again.   Greeted in ecstacy by her family back home. 

“We thought you were a gonner.”   The marshmallow sky hung timelessly in space.  A new dawn broke.  I’d barely slept a wink.

Peter Sutcliffe is known as The Yorkshire Ripper.  A sadistic serial killer, he murdered 13 girls between  1975 and 1981. I search the list; the many articles written.  I find Rita’s twin sister Helen! – Like all the others, ruthlessly murdered by a blow to the head and then mutilated in a frenzy.  Surprisingly her spirit swam home safely at the time, along with the other tragic victims …bar One.  On that magic Midsummer Night, Helen  and her still living twin were on a mission to help the soul of one little mermaid left behind.  A phantom of herself.  Still suffering in those horrific moments of death in 1976.   Emily Jackson  is hooked from the darkest crevices of the brook and reeled into the light....  

Thank God!  Thank you!  Thank you!”  (Desperate for money to pay their debts – her husband had taken her to a public house in Leeds, notorious rendezvous for prostitutes and clients.  He waited a short time after she left with an unseen punter,  but she never returned.  The following morning her mutilated body was found, violently stabbed 50 times.)

John Sutcliffe, father of the murderer still held in Broadmoor, collaborates from the light.   (“Would YOU forgive me?”  his son Peter had asked him, his resting victims and the rest of us, on that Midsummer Night)   Then breaks the dawn of understanding….My special twins were prostitutes.  They worked together.  Looked out for one another.  Made notes of car numbers of punters.  Arranged to meet again exactly 15 mts later, supposedly safe from the notorious Ripper.  On the night of 31 January 1978, Rita begged her sister not to go…” I feel so guilty.  It was my fault!” … Terrified of being arrested for soliciting, she had waited 3 whole days before notifiying police that her sister had never returned:

The girls play happily by the brook, lost in a world of their own.  In those days it was perfectly acceptable.  Only 100 yards from home.


“Dad made us fishing nets from mum’s old stockings, cut off from the knee. He twists some wire into a circle and sticks the pointy bit down the neck of a bamboo cane.  That was the dangerous bit.  We helped Mum sew the stockings on: great big stitches looped around the rim; not much space inside for fishing!  Dad said he made specially small ones for his girls to go fishing.  Down by the brook.  Sticklebacks like mermaids. Colours dazzle like jewels!  Chase them. Trap them. They wriggle to get free.  Lift them out of their hiding places.  They try to swim away.  The hoop is hard.  Little hands clumsy.  Some suffer. Others flounder inside the nylon once worn around their mother’s feet.  They leap for their lives.  Stick to the side.  Chubby hands clumsy. Tip the mermaids into the glass jar.  They swim again.  In crystal clear water.  Such joy!  Such freedom!  Such colour glinting in the sun.  Smiling faces of little girls.  Proudly running to show their mum’.

A case of possession by a murderer

21 06 2010

I have changed the names in my story to protect the lady who came to me for help on this matter, but you may be interested in the position of the murderer as well as the ‘possessed’…..

My client ‘Lucy’ is what we term a physical medium – ie she invites people ‘in spirit’ to take over her vocal cords and speak through her….a practice that I personally do not recommend as she needs my help to clear her of those earthbound spirits who haven’t yet integrated with the light.  If you are a regular reader of my blogs you will know that such attachments can cause mental, emotional and even physical dis-ease:  A couple of years ago she had a dribbling old man attached to her – someone she knew personally and channelled through herself (allowing him to take possession of her body) for the so-called benefit of his still living relative.  He refused to leave again and made her life a misery for 2 years before she came to me for help.  (ie he was earthbound and had not been channelled from the light, where people assume their relatives to be). 

Now Lucy had her adopted grandmother doing the same thing – and also apparently preventing her from seeing me: ‘Don’t you DARE go and see that  Jane!” she had warned her.

Her presence is suffocating me! – ” Lucy complained breathlessly over the phone, saying she was ‘a big woman!’

Lucy also communicates with a ‘team’ on the spiritual side of life (those who have passed safely and advise her on matters) and had been told by them to ignore the heavy demands and suffocating orders of this relative – a woman we shall call Freda – and get back in touch with me for assistance.  According to Lucy, “Freda is unable to get into the other side as they won’t let her…nobody is prepared to let her in…” .  I must say I was greatly surprised by this as I have never come across a ‘rejection’ from the light before.

I needed more history and Lucy told me that Freda had murdered her own mother! (Lucy is adopted).  I have no idea whether Freda was found guilty for this so-called crime during her lifetime (she died in 1981 aged 87) or whether my client had been given this information from her ‘team’, but before seeing Lucy for her appointment next week I decided to test the spiritual waters…..

Immediately, I was able to ‘catch’ the spirit of Freda and – predictably – she fought against my energies like a huge fish on the end of a hook, but I gripped my dowser tightly, just holding her long enough to ask the crucial question…

“Did you murder Lucy’s mother?”

Get lost!” (ironic considering her own position) “It’s none of your business!” (I took that to be a ‘yes’ and held her while I thought about the next step…)  She struggled and pulled against my strong hold on her, so I asked quickly

“Why did you do that?”

“SICK of her….sick of her!” she yelled at me.  So angry and twisted was she at the injustice of being stuck in her own ‘hell’ for 29 years I could not make out her features, but let her off the hook and left her snarling spirit to ‘go back underground’.

At 4.30 pm yesterday I tried again, once more hooking the spirit of this elderly lady to within my reach.  Again she fought like crazy, but this time I suggested to her that maybe her victim (RIP) was willing to forgive her?  The change was remarkable.  She stopped fighting and struggling… dowser stopped flailing about and settled into a comfortable swing from side to side:

“Do you think?” she asked, aghast at the possibility.  “But what about Lucy?  Lucy will NEVER forgive me for what I did to her mother!”  She started to head for the deep dark waters again but I knew there was hope for her soul and quickly reassured her that Lucy would do the same….

“I am sure she is willing to forgive you too!”  At this stage she was sufficiently lifted from the quagmire of her own debased thoughts and clinging guilt/anger about her victim’s behaviour – that subsequently drove her to kill, distracted enough for a connection – albeit a thin one – to be made with the light.  She struggled not to stay, this time, but to get through that sliver of light which was hope and forgiveness.  Someone named Ernestine reached out to help her and after a few more stops and starts she at last broke free from the earthly chains of guilt that had made her fight so hard to stay out of the light.

I was delighted to see Lucy’s mother and her murderer greet one another in a bear huge of forgiveness.  Interestingly, when I ‘tapped’ the words ‘I forgive my adopted grandmother for killing my mother’ into Lucy’s crown (this loosens the energies of the meridians, which can be seen on a CAT scan)  another four attached spirits – feeding off her natural distaste and unforgiveness of her mother’s murderer – were also hooked out and into the light!

Puzzled as to why the souls in the light were, according to Lucy, ‘keeping her out’ (as everybody deserves a second chance) I now became aware that she could not have been allowed home until she had ‘seen the light’ – the error of her ways and the glimmer of hope in forgiveness!”

“Is that right?” I asked my higher self (or spiritual guide of the moment!)

“Institutional rights!” came back the strange answer. “Institutional rights – they will be let out of the institution/prison of their own making once they have become aware of their ‘rights’ as opposed to their ‘wrongs’.


 ps ‘Lucy’s real mother sent her a message saying she did not suffer unduly; that they both live on in *ratification and that although  not wholly responsible for the actions of her attacker (who had hit her with a blunt instrument and hidden her body under the floorboards) she did in some small part feel she cajoled, provoked and pushed ‘Freda’ to the limits. ‘Freda’ herself said to Lucy: ‘I have served repentance and am grateful to your mother, who has forgiven my sins.  She accepts responsibility in a small but loving way. Tell ‘Lucy’ we love her!”   

After they had dictated these messages another 33 lost souls who had also died at the hands of murderers and whose bodies had been disregarded in the same way – f’rom Naples to Sussex to Aberdeenshire and China’ -were hooked into the vortex and helped home, on yet another like-attracts-like basis.

*Ratification: to confirm by expressing consent, approval, or formal sanction: to ratify a constitutional amendment/ to confirm (something done or arranged by an agent or by representatives) by such action. Synonyms are ‘to corroborate, approve, validate, establish’ (

Negative energy shows up on photo of lovely pregnant neice

18 06 2010

Whilst visiting relatives in Camberley last weekend I was busy as always checking them for attachments/energies of earthbound spirit visitors.  Amongst 100’s of spirit rescues, these were particularly interesting photos taken of my soon-to-pod neice before and after I tuned into her.  Checking the camera I noticed a dark smudge of energy across her upper body and an orb (left) and she confirmed that she had been feeling shattered and irritableTuning in with my dowser I released 32 souls into the light (she now feels just as she should feel before the birth of her second child, ‘glowing’!) – as well as 8 visitors who seemed to come in from the area of the orb and who had been ‘killed in racing driver accidents’.  Immediately, she knew what the connection must have been (on a like attracts like basis) as, despite the sad nature of a brilliant and colourful painting done by her younger brother, she had felt inextricably drawn to this depiction of various disasters in the news….including a tragic racing car crash – and had even asked if she could have it for her new baby’s room,much to her family’s confusion!  

As you can see  here, the picture I took after clearing the energies showed that the dark smudge and the orb (one of the lost spirits) had gone!  

As for the picture, reproduced left  (my nephew had no idea when he painted it in 2008 as part of a school project) I had cleared souls directly after the accidents depicted, including the twin tower disaster (bottom left), the tragic coach crash (top left) which claimed many lives and last but not least the soul of Donald Campbell who I discovered when the craft in which he lost his life –  Bluebird (middle right) – was lifted from the depths of Lake Coniston many years after his death.  The story of his spirit rescue is in my soon to be published book on famous ghosts and spirits – by famous ghosts and spirits themselves!  The only category depicted in this painting of which I had no previous knowledge were racing drivers….my neice had obviously enabled their souls to be helped by her fascination with her brother’s painting!

Jacques Cousteau is raised from the deep

17 06 2010


Jacques Cousteau is raised from the deep

We’ve just returned from a delicious two day visit to friends in Wales, which incuded a visit to a nature reserve island off the coast of Pembrokeshire, South Wales.  Excitingly, we rode choppy waves to see adorable brightly colourful puffins up close in their natural environment, clocked at least fourteen huge seals which lolloped on rocks, ‘smelled’ the rock nests of storm petrel birds, and even saw and heard the elusive Chough (pronounced by most as Chuff but as it soared over a rock face towards me it seemed to call ‘chow chow’ as in chow mein!)  To wallow in nature is beyond description!

Our friend owns a WW2  jeep and we were fortunate enough to take a ride on the wild side,  whizzing through country lanes with the top down, the wind in our hair (and hands on our hats!) Was it engineered from above that an old soldier of 86 approached the jeep to admire it when we stopped at a seaside cafe for lunch?  We chatted for hours about his D-Day experiences, including being injured by a land mine and still having shrapnell embedded in his neck after 60 odd years! Ironically he now uses a metal detector to find treasure on the beach….fascinating!  Once home we reminisced about ‘Allo ‘Allo and the French Resistance.

On the 4 hour journey home, apart from road accident victims and spirits from surrounding countryside, I had a very special (ghostly) visitor:  The French underwater explorer and filmmaker Jacques Cousteau (1910-1997) ‘swam’ into my third eye, wearing a frog suit!  He patted his heart with a ‘boom-boody-boom’ sound and indicated that he was stuck , his heart unable to leave his underwater paradise after his death 13 years previously. 

“Please help me Madam,” he asked politely. “Sub-atomic!” (indicating his own atomic energy was too low to lift in to a higher, lighter vibration) He showed me through visuals that he was trapped (a grill above him that he could not budge) so I hooked on to his spirit with my dowser and lifted him as best I could (visualising the grill being lifted off him)  The grill turned sideways to form a ladder but he cried ‘the bottom rung it is broken… as my dowser bounced erratically in time with his deeply stuck spirit.  I enlisted (through the power of thought) two scuba diving spirit guides/helpers to each take him under an arm (he was very skinny!) and they helped him rise gently to the surface of the sea, where he snatched off his breathing goggles and gasped for breath….but he was not sufficiently buoyant to move to a higher plane. The pattern of my dowsing changed from a whirling clockwise spin (as he lifted) but then faltered as he begged for another boost to his energy…

 “Swim to the Mother Ship…!” we encouraged.  “Throw him a lifebelt!”    Someone reached out for his hand and called ‘Mon Ami!” and what sounded like ‘De Raisin!” (of reason?) ….. (the dowser pulled the whole time against his gravity field)… and between us we managed to lift him to a higher vibration….and he was off….the dowser spinning faster and faster and faster…until he was safe….  hawled up at precisely 1.50 pm on Weds 17th June 2010 to land safely on the other side!   A few seconds later, peeling off his wetsuit, he called ecstatically: “I cannot thank you enough!”  In the excitement of the moment I asked him to say something in French!!! “Parlez vous Francais?” he asked, bemused. 

‘No, but for my readers?’….(Why do I do these things?)  What he came out with next was gobbledygook to me but sounded like ‘pour decredatsion elementali b..boom’, so there you go!  Although I could not understand the sounds I understood his meaning: man is causing too much pollution in the elemental world (under the sea and on the land) and it is going to lead to a heart attack for our beautiful world!

Back home I googled  the famous man:

a.  He joined the French Resistance movement through WW2!

b.   He died of heart failure (boom-boom)

c.   He was married to Simone, since passed (safely -“Mon Ami!”)

d.  He ‘enlightened the public by exposing the irreversable effects of environmental destruction. ‘

Thanks to our friends for providing the circumstances and the energy of joy and to that old soldier with the twinkly eyes for ticking yet another box in his list of earthly duties!

Earthbound spirits phone mobile for help!

8 06 2010

Mikey shot off to the Co-op to get some milk , then I suddenly remembered we’d run out of bananas and tinned pineapples to top our tea-time curry, so rang his mobile from our home phone .  There was so much crackle on the line I couldn’t make myself heard and could only shout ‘bananas…we need bananas! And tinned pineapples…tinned pineapples!‘ down the phone, still not sure if he’d got the message.  But when he came home clutching the milk, pineapples and a bunch of the lovely yellow things we were both puzzled.

“I didn’t think you could hear me….”

“Oh you came over crystal clear – I couldn’t understand why you kept repeating yourself and shouting?  Oddly, when you rang I didn’t think it was you as this strange number came up on my mobile.  When I rang it back out of curiosity there was just a blank at the end of the line….” 

He tried the ten digit number again from our home phone and there was literally nothing at the other end: just an eerie silence.  I picked up my dowser and it flung itself into a twisting, writhing motion in the air (as I hook onto an earthbound spirit who is expecting me ,it is like hitting a whirlwind!)  All I could make out was someone calling “Hassan…Hassan…Hassan!” as I clung tenatiously to the chain of my crystal for at least 10 seconds.  Then suddenly it stopped dead, quivered slightly, then spun off again for 5 seconds.  ‘Hassan’ (a handsome middle aged man) was sucked into the spiritual vortex of the light but, unusually, paused to encourage yet another ‘Hassan’ to follow behind.  It also appeared that ‘Hassan senior’ was calling ‘Hassan junior’ from the other side.  Are you still with me?

My guides explained that as I had bananas and pineapples on my mind I had drawn some likeness in the split second I dialled Mikey’s number – and that the (original) deceased Hassan had worked for a local grocers!!!  Asking what the poor man had died from was a waste of time as the morbidly earthly subject of ghosts is always lifted to a new height!  (‘He slipped on a banana skin, of course…’)

The next day I decided to check out the strange number again and, after the silence had lasted a few seconds and I had said ‘hello…hello’, a pre-recorded female voice made me jump.  “Sorry.  There is a fault.   Sorry.  There is a fault.” Maybe I was asking for it, or maybe it was all part of the cunning plan by my spirit helpers, but immediately a freezing swirling mass of energy headed for my solar plexus….out came the trusty dowser again…and as I passed on 50 + more earthbound souls I could see a dockside with crates piled high with (you guessed) bananas and pineapples…”20 or so lost souls were lifted from the Congo, a huge batch from Brazil (now I could see banana plantations, men up banana trees, happy souls with machetes, swinging at the ground, harvesting the fruits) and finally my dowser stopped, swung from side to side, and a voice ‘from Mesopatamia’ said, ‘thank you Jane!’ 

(Mesopatamia is an area of ancient Iraq and quite appropriately in Greek means ‘land between the rivers’…and the name  Hassan (pronounced hah-SAHN) is of Arabic origin.  Imagine how I laughed when I discovered its meaning: ‘good looking and handsome’ – (see above!)  Presumably Hassan also sold curry sauce in his shop?

Ghostly Toy Fair

7 06 2010

This weekend I drove our son and a friend Steve to the NEC Birmingham to visit a collectors’ Toy Fair and as usual I was aware of a spirit or two following me as we made our way around the crowded stalls.  I have a passion for teddy bears, particularly old ones with character, and was thrilled to find such a hairless, delapidated 1930’s version dressed in a knitted stripey top, his glass eyes hanging on for dear life and his jointed limbs so loose that everything wobbled, including his head.  (My husband thinks he is ‘freaky’ but he has been loved to death by someone and I respect that!)…

Only half way through the many stalls and a little tired from trawling the Corgie vehicles, train sets and memorabilia for something for Steve, we decided to take a coffee break and, while I queued to pay, he secured a table near the large glass windows overlooking the Fair, where we could keep a look out for my son.  Sure enough, he lumbered in with his bulging bags and after emptying the lot, including a 1970’s robot, a stuffed camel, a huge bendy version of Kermit the Frog and a  Dalek, he asked for the car keys to deposit his load.  No sooner had he left, a woman shyly asked if she could share our table whilst she waited for her husband…and of course we welcomed her happily.  She cradled a pretty 1930’s porcelain doll in a carrier bag, fondly adjusting the doll’s wig.

Oh how lovely!” I coo-ed.  “I’ve just fallen for a teddy of the same era….”

“My grandmother left me 2 dolls similar to this one, which I love, and I thought I would have a go at dressing another,” she smiled.  Immediately, I wondered if her grandmother was resting in peace, and an angelic whooshing sensation down my body confirmed this, but I felt pushed to tell her about my other passion Her blue eyes held mine throughout my stories of rescuing earthbound spirits and when I’d finished she said she had ‘never come across ghosts but my ex-boyfriend’s flat was rather frightening.  The television oftened turned itself on , as did other electrical items (I did not interrupt to tell her this quite common when several souls are stuck in one house) as she continued to say ‘I’ve often wondered if this contributed to my boyfriend being killed shortly after…..?’

Steve and I looked shocked and sympathised as best we could.  I reassured her that that there would have been no connection…”It’s just that the freezing atmosphere in certain parts of the landing was horrible.  We moved out as soon as we could…”  (Once home I cleared the flat of ‘earthbound but harmless hooligans’)  I explained that along with ‘ghosts’ come their personalities, which can include stress, fear, anger, negative thought forms associated with their deaths etc. and it is natural to pick up these prickly, cold feelings and emotions) But as she told us her story I felt the presence of her ex-boyfriend, just above and to the right of my head.  He showed me a badge in the shape of a shield, rather like an American ‘cops’ badge, but this meant nothing to her. I broke it to her gently that her ex-boyfriend was not resting in peace and quickly explained the reasons for people becoming earthbound:  ‘Unfinished business – a sudden, tragic or unexpected death…’  Her eyes whelled up as she said ‘he had been stabbed.  The murderer was never found.  I don’t think he would have rested in peace until he’d been apprehended.’  

I felt another angelic whoosh down my body – and, mesmerised, she said she felt it too.  I explained this was confirmation that he was not resting in peace and that I would shortly pop into the ladies (I explained about the focussing tool of my dowsing) and help him over.  I gave her my email address so that I could give her feedback, and we went on our separate ways.  Sure enough, he grabbed this opportunity to leave (he had been killed way back in 1979 and had been watching over his girlfriend ever since, hence the shield of protection and his desire to help the ‘cops’ with their investigations to apprehend ‘the murdering swine’)  He thanked me ‘from the bottom of my heart’ that his soul was now able to rest and said ‘tell her I love her’…..

When I returned to the cafe the lady had a grey haired gentleman sitting with her, who I took to be her partner, and I discretely tip-toed past, hoping that she would email me and I could pass on the good news…..and all because Steve chose to sit at that table and because of our ‘freaky’ 1930’s playthings!

2,000 earthbound spirits released today!

30 05 2010

Just thought you might be interested in my day to day duties helping earthbound spirits to go back home to the light whilst helping those still alive (LOL!) to shake off their dark cloaks of fear, depression, stress, mental and emotional and even psychic ‘hangers-on’!

Thursday 27th May 2010 was a typical day for me, starting at 8.30 am with a one hour long distance healing and clearing of a friend’s energy centres – who happened to be flying to Egypt at the time!  (I had wondered whether I would be able to keep up with the speed of a jet (ie 500 mph?) but all I had to do was visualise myself standing behind her seat on the plane – and it worked a treat!)   

After a particularly traumatic break up with a long term boyfriend (with whom she is still in love) she had naturally been left feeling devastated, extremely low and weighed down by the world on her shoulders.  As soon as I ‘made contact’ with her, she understandably released a huge amount of emotional stress, indicated by the furious spinning of my dowser.  Then oceans of  spiritual stress released in the same way….followed by 22 earthbound spirits, who were detached from the psychic level – yet more spinning and such visuals as ‘a mad monk’, ‘a bandmaster’ and a ‘chappie in a kilt’ were glimpsed as they pushed their way into the vortex of light created by my dowsing.  All in all, my friend was 496 spirits lighter by the time I had finished.   I look forward to her feedback when she returns from her break….

2pm and a client arrives in my healing room for her usual reiki and crystal therapy session but instead tells me of a young friend of the family who has a severe form of leukemia and is about to undergo chemotherapy.  She felt drawn to telling me and I had no choice when my healers from the light automatically flew to his aid – on and on and on – and with every impression related back to my client she was able to confirm that his ‘poisoned blood’ had been as a result of his personal emotional and spiritual suffering.  For 55 minutes, earthbound spirits poured from his energy field! (and I was left with a very sore and flattened forefinger from clutching the madly swinging chain of my dowser, but oh such a satisfied feeling!).  When at last it stopped, we added up the spirits from each part of his body who had become trapped over many years in a like-attracts-like situation and whose low energies had no doubt contributed to the lad’s illness.  Trapped around his heart alone were  49 on the emotional level, 2 on the spiritual and behind his heart (older experiences) were 27 on the emotional and an astounding 101 on the psychic and 18 on the cosmic (a higher spinning level above the psychic aura)….At this stage my spiritual helpers called enthusiastically,

Hooray, Hooray!  Carry on!”

Around the throat (communication area) were 112 – several of whom called back ‘morons!’ as they left.  My client said this was the sort of expression the boy would use.  Altogether, 1,020 earthbound spirits were hooked out of the lad’s physical, emotional, spiritual and psychic bodies.  The next day, my client phoned with the news that the same evening (and after his first chemotherapy session) the boy was sitting up smiling and more like his old self and that his mother was delighted – and she had no doubt that our timely intervention had helped him enormously on his long road to complete recovery.

5.30 pm A psychic Carribean lady came to my healing room for a regular clearing of her energies and her home.  She invariably needs help in moving on ‘the naughty spooks’ who this time had ‘tapped her on the shoulder’ – cheeky things’ and even ‘walk RIGHT through ma home’‘even a black man was standing in my toilet!’ she squeeled – ‘and I says to him ‘Now YOU just get outa here!’  The garden was particularly bad this time, with her equally psychic daughter (who is a reiki student of mine and also discovered the gift of moving on spirits after she had received her level two attunements) saying she ‘washed her hands of it!’ – the energy was just too much for her to bear.

The moment I hooked on to my client’s wonderful crown energy 32 spirits left, followed by another 50!  When batches like this leave so quickly I close my eyes and do my best to report on the sort of characters I am releasing – although this is rather like trying to interview people as they race past me on a fast-moving escalater!  ‘Johnny, where’s your trousers?’; a ‘nanny’; a beekeeper; pet rabbits; someone who loves philadelphia cheese!  An Arthur Higginbottom; rats; weedkiller; something hidden in the bottom of a chest of drawers..….My lovely lady just looks bemused.  She picks them up from all over the place; attracted by her colourful personality but also her stressful situation with probate issues following her deceased husband’s indiscrepencies.  (He has come through to apologise more than once, but ‘that don’t help me now!’ she laughs)…. Many many levels of her energies are cleared over a period of almost an hour, followed by a relaxing but rejuvinating healing session and as a result her ‘swollen feet’ feel a lot better and she ‘feels so much lighter!’  50 (bikers; rockers; drug addicts; snorters; and a general ‘den of iniquity’) earthbound spirits are cleared from her back garden and 401 from her personal energy field.  By the time she leaves she has her old swing back in her step – and as her daughter arrives to collect her (having been cleared herself the day before of a similar amount of spiritual hitchhikers) she says ‘oh by the way, can you check MY house please – someone keeps going through to the kitchen and we hear footsteps upstairs in the evenings….. Happy to help!

Waldo E Nutter shoots back with a message…

28 05 2010

“What a brilliant name!” I said to my husband, who is an exponent of  Manhattan Firearms (1958), written by professional engineer and gun collector….Waldo E Nutter!”

“Is he Resting In Peace?” was the inevitable question.  Yes, I ascertained that his spirit had reached the other side safely after his death (not known when) and enquired politely if it was possible to speak to him…

OK…fire away…” came the heavenly response (Good choice of words LOL!)

“Can you tell me how you died?” I asked Nutter.

“An infringement of my rights!”  he answered, but then I lost contact with him again.  Perhaps he had not got permission to talk to me or perhaps hadn’t booked a time with the heavenly co-ordinators?  After all,  I had only decided to call on him on the spur of the moment…  I tried again…

“Is Waldo there?  Can I talk to him?”

“Settlement.  They didn’t get the settlement right….” Waldo said, the connection back once more – and then shot off again (ha ha).   I waited a few seconds and then dipped back into the spiritual flow:

“What settlement?” I asked.   (Could he mean the act of bringing his spirit down to the physicality of myself in order to speak?)

Hitherto unknown….I put my heart and soul into it!” (and he shot off again)  It became apparent that this ‘shooting off again’ was a great source of amusement for those on the other side, as several of his ‘associates’ joined him in a ‘barrel’ of laughs.  Michael and I joined in with the banter but I was still curious about the ‘settlement’.

“Are you talking about the settlement when you died?” (As in a legal agreement)

“I was ravaged…I was ravaged!”  he cried. (No soul – as opposed to no-body – ever gives me a straight answer when I’m trying earnestly to be sensible.  There invariably has to be a double entendre or inuendo attached!)   At this point I was given an impression of the 1960’s and a vision of a man suffering terribly from gout…a poisoned toe….alcohol...and the song ‘blow the wind southerly’ was sung as a couple of earthbound associates of his were suddenly swept into the spiritual vortex, obviously needing a ‘leg up’!  I obligingly lifted them to the dizzy heights needed to cross the veil and returned to Nutter, who pointed out that his friends had ‘fallen by the wayside’.

“Is there anything sensible you wish me to pass on in my ‘what if spirits could blog’ then?”  I asked him – and to my relief he became earnest again. (‘Have I been Earnest before? LOL!”)

“There is a great need for restitution; salvation from tittletattle, uniformity in work life….Open Sesame!  Pandora’s Box!  Lift the lid.  Look inside.  There is so much to be discovered!  A veritable tinder box to be lit!  Bang bang bang…Take them by the arms  and show them how to fire straight.  Bang on target every time!  Pull the trigger slowly; take aim…(a pffffff sound).  The powder is lit.  Tell your story Madam.  Tell it with 5 bores!”

And he shot off again.

(Michael says that virtually all of the revolvers produced by the Manhattan Firearms Company had 5 chambers in the cylinder, thus providing 5 shots!)

Salvador Dali is ‘immortal’ – at last!

25 05 2010

Last night I couldn’t sleep, with blobs of mad whirling swirlings behind my eyelids, rather like a manic lava lamp, so I snatched my dowser from the sidelocker and ushered through a huddle of earthbound spirits under the given category ‘suger beet plantations’ – What was that all about?!  I closed my eyes but could not rid myself of the feeling of a belligerent soul battering on the door to salvation.  Then his name came through to me:  It was renowned and often reviled Spanish surrealist painter Salvador Dali…(1904 –  1989)

My dowser flung itself to the left and bounced chaotically as I reeled in his lost spirit.  Apologising to my husband as it was gone midnight, I switched on the side light and leapt out of bed to search for a scrap of paper to record the next step.  Dali spoke, then my dowser spun wildly around in a clockwise circle (normally indicative of the soul rising) but then stopped dead as he spoke again (the dowser swings continuously from left to right and back again during speech) – and this was repeated for a second and then a third time.  Below is a record of what he said at each stage of his spirit rising to new life:

1.  “My mind is but a confusion of lights and encircling mattter of constant movement!” (He was frantic, judging by the way he grabbed this chance for freedom from the living  purgatory of ‘between lives’)

2.  (Hope) “I have lifted from the dense matter of my inheritance….”

3.  (Joy!) “I am happy…I am elated…Bring on the flowers!”

Minutes later (on the other side, time does not exist as we know it on earth) he registered his safe arrival:

4.  “I am rested and I thank you greatly.”

Our bedroom door opened and our son peeped round, face screwed up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes thankyou – I’ve just helped Salvador Dali to go home.”

“Right, everything normal in the Hunting household then…” he said, and dragged himself back to bed. 

Come morning, a London friend ‘just happened’ to phone and I ‘just happened’ to mention my remarkable visitor to her. 

That’s funny….” she said, “We were going to watch a film last night but I’d recorded a programme on this very man from Sunday’s TV, so we watched that instead!  He was a very strange man!”  (And she continued to fill me in on some of his very surreal and downright revolting ways) 

“Oh, so it’s all YOUR fault then!” I laughed.  (Like attracts Like)  She’d also just arrived back from an overseas holiday and I meant to ask her whether she’d come across any ‘sugar beet plantations!

Finally, my research today turned up a personal quote from the artist whose public persona was one of ‘bizarre paranoia’ –

      “Dali is immortal and will not die” …

Through his safe transition from his self imposed ‘inheritance’ (ie his earthly personality traits and his unacceptance of the natural death experience from the physical to the spiritual body) his statement takes on a bright new meaning!  

It’s surprising what a little love (and therefore no fear or judgement) can do to help fellow members of mankind find their way home again – to spiritual immortality!

Happy Orby-ghost in ‘Christ Church’, Surrey!

23 05 2010

Two days after the rescue of Henry Ford’s spirit – when he had exclaimed ‘Christ Church!’ (an expression which a deceased Great Aunt of mine used when she was exasperated!!) – my husband had impromptu business in the County of Surrey (England) and we decided to stay overnight at a 16th century house – which, to my surprise, had no resident ghosts… We visited fantastic oldy-wordly pubs (several spirit rescues) and walked miles amidst beautiful, breathtaking scenery and woodlands dancing with blubells.  For two days we soaked up the sunshine and wallowed in good old English countryside, finishing with lunch at a lovely little pub in Coldharbour – and as we drove into the village we came across their beautiful church – which happened to be called ‘Christ Church!

We entered the coolness of the stunning building and the feeling of having been drawn there strengthened as I approached the front of the church and knelt facing the alter.  The peace was tangible; I felt at one with all of nature and happy with my lot.  I knew that my Maker continued to guide me in my work and that He had another task for me, as a circular sensation tickled the top of my crown.  Time stood still and everything felt Perfect.  After saying some prayers for my family and friends, I telepathically heard the hymn ‘Be Still for the Spirit of the Lord is with you…‘ so I stood still and closed my eyes.  I ‘felt’ a cloak being laid gently about my shoulders; a hood cover my head.  I ‘stepped outside of myself’ and looked at my earthly body: my face was translucent, my eyes shining.  Then the cloak and hood collapsed slowly to the stone floor of the Church, my body no longer inside!  Wow!  The tiny circle continued to prickle on my crown as I acknowledged an influx of lost souls, seemingly gathered from the surrounding area – so I took my dowser and helped them home.

It is highly unusual to find lost souls in a peaceful Church, but upon entering the door my face had tingled as a ‘lost soldier’ knocked on the spiritual door.  My husband had stood at the brass eagle lectern, reminiscing about the steadfast duties of his father’s weekly brass-polishing devotion to a similar lectern at his own little church in Edwalton (Notts.), and while he read aloud from the Bible (he is quite a character!) I had removed my dowser to investigate this one presence who had followed us inside:

His name was Hunt  and he had ‘died in battle’, and a second (unknown) lost soul alongside him took advantage of the open portal.  Michael pointed out that an officer of this very name was recorded along with several others from the village of Coldharbour and had been a member of the Coldstream Guards during the first world war.  He had been so devoted to his home town that (uderstandably) his spirit had returned after his death on the battlefield but lingered too long (over 3 months) and become stuck.  His family had since passed safely and now he was exhuberant to be reunited both with war colleages, villagers and loved ones.  He promptly sent for half a dozen colleagues and friends ‘missing from home’. 

‘Did Henry Ford cause the Huntings to drive past Christ Church on the Hunt for Officer Hunt?’ I giggled.  

“Long Live the Queen!” came the heavenly response…..

When I later uploaded the photos of our short break, I found the above picture taken in Christ Church, which clearly shows the ORB of Officer Hunt high above Michael as he reads from the Lectern!!! (See picture above)

The spirit of Henry Ford races home!

19 05 2010

Whilst dowsing and clearing a client of mine last weekend – amounting to over a hundred  lost souls whizzing home at great speed whilst my dowser flew on and on – the name Henry Ford came up and was ushered across the veil with lightning speed.  The lady’s partner and I exchanged puzzled looks, wondering if this was THE Henry Ford of car manufacturing fame…

Well they did apparently produce steel in Nottingham for Ford cars…” he enlightened me.

The next day I tuned in to Henry Ford’s spirit just to check on his status and it appears he had some advice for me before we went any further…

“My motorcars were made of steel…no rust on those wagons!  Packed full of saucepans and everything but the kitchen sink, people drove their boneshakers on picnics to escape to the country.  There may have been wise-cracks about the quality of a Ford motor car but they were rum.  Let go of the steering wheel, just cruise along at a comfortable speed” he said, at which stage I realised he was using the motor car as a metaphor for my own journey with the world of spirit, “jolly it up a bit when you come to a hill; exhaust blowing; put her in gear; you can do it!”

He was advising me to be aware of the mechanics of book publishing (knowing my impatience to get my big book in print via a publisher who was sitting on it), that I needed to understand how things worked in the publishing business and most importantly he asked me to take a leaf out of his own book and focus on the new possibilities that lay in store for my brand of work!  Indeed, I felt honoured.  “Then pull the throttle, engage your mind and put your foot on the gas…” he advised.

Eager to turn the subject back to him, I asked what his thoughts were on his own lifetime:

I had a goddam good one,” he said proudly….”a lucrative business!”

“So you know about my own work?”

We all know what goes on Down Under,” he said amusingly.  “Up Over, we call you a ‘Soul Trader’! LOL!  There are billions of them (souls); a few million more thanks to your kindly tinkering with their engines!  You get them kick-started and breathe life into them again – a mechanic of Light.  More fuel is needed for industry….”

I was interested to know what he did with 60 years to while away after his death from a cerebral haemorrhage in 1947 (Michigan USA) …”I rode on the back of my grandson, Henry Ford 2, leaving the business in good hands…” 

“How did it feel to be stuck in limbo between your earthly life and where you are now?”

“Stuck in neutral; drifting; no gas – just a vapour….”

“Did you see the Light beckoning?”

“Way off, over them hills!”

“What happened when you arrived home last weekend?”   (I was shown a picture of banners/streamers above a crowd of ‘automobiles’ and many many well wishers slapping and hugging him in jubilation.  Someone I thought he called ‘ETHEL’ was first in the queue, but I was certain he was male, and when I checked Ford’s biography later I found his son EDSEL had pre-deceased him in 1945.) He had now said his ‘peace’  and having been called back at least 6 times to finish this interview he now exclaimed “Christchurch!”, so I left him ‘tinkering with his hood’ ….!

Ghosts of Sudbury Hall Museum of Childhood, Derbyshire

17 05 2010

After perusing the National Trust gift shop and dodging the April showers my son and I ventured into the Museum of Childhood at Sudbury Hall, Derbyshire.  A jolly lady checked our tickets and suggested we take a map of the complicated layout, which I discarded after a while as it was so large and it was easier to follow our noses through the rooms of interesting displays and fascinating cabinets of childhood artefacts, ranging from war time to present day.  One room had a fascinating Alice-in- Wonderland type ceiling with upside down child’s bedroom, complete with furniture, toys and even a half ajar door!  We stood craning our necks, in awe of how the talented creators of such a masterpiece could have stuck everthing to the ceiling without it falling on their visitors’ heads!  I was particularly reminded of my own childhood when I spotted an orange bouncy ball with ears which had been determinedly grasped by the chubby hands of my little sisters as they’d jumped up and down on their ‘space hoppers’!  My slightly older sister and I felt much more grown up on the high stilts my father made us, after which all the neighbourhood children lusted! (And to his credit, my father made several more pairs to give away to them!)

Totally absorbed in reminiscing, I did not become aware until the third such room of treasures that little ghost children were running around us, giggling and enjoying themselves.  As two living humans we were otherwise alone and I glanced round for cover as I removed my trusty dowser from its holster in my jeans pocket.  These little ones were ‘evacuees’ from war time who had ‘missed the train home’ again and they were quickly joined by melancholic grown-ups of various eras who were connected in some way with the toys in the displays, spanning many generations.    In other words, the owners of the old toys who had not managed to leave this world naturally, were pouring into the vortex of light created by my rescue mission.

Whilst my son kept an eye-out for any living people wandering into the room, I did my best to make a mental note of those (mostly polite) souls who tipped their caps at me before leaving – happy to have been milling around the museum of childhood, but oh so grateful to be reunited with their loved ones.  At such times I feel a maternal gush of empathy and joy at their release!  After approximately 25 souls had been safely returned in this manner, my son and I wandered through many more rooms until we came to the recreation of a Victorian schoolroom.  A ghostly ‘Arthur’ sat at one of the desks, slate board and chalk in his hands, poorly looking, underfed, his nose running….he had died of diptheria…and in a trice a little girl named Tilly appeared from the otherside and took his pale little hand.  Such joy knows no bounds!  As I typed this information into my blog another 30 or so souls who had also died of diptheria and not completed their journey’s home were passed over safely.  Like attracts like.

A row of desks were lined up outside this room, each containing information for visitors.  Something made me close the lid of the end one and to my delight I saw that someone had scratched the words ‘JB WOZ ERE’ on the top – JB being the lifelong nickname given to me by my father and also used by my husband (JanieBold).  My son was greatly amused by this and cajoled me into posing for a photo opportunity!  After trying on some silly hats from a toy box and larking about in the ‘nursery’ (well nobody living was there to see!) I dowsed a ‘clown’ and a nanny/governess who enjoyed reading ‘ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross’ – and many more who had been attracted by the banter….As my dowser continued to swing in a whirlwind of joyful crossings, a member of staff entered the room (I snatched the gypsy scarf from my head but she just laughed, probably used to such childish antics by visitors!) and didn’t seem to notice the frantic spinning of my crystal….

After noshing on a Magnum each, we dashed to the Hall itself – ‘last admissions’ being 4.15 pm and, although very attentive and polite, it was obvious the half a dozen volunteers with only us to usher through the many rooms were keen to get home.  In the Long Gallery were over 20 portraits of family members but none of them were restless souls – I had gathered many on a visit many years previously and the details were safely stashed somewhere in an old notebook.  I remembered, however, that it had been the downstairs servants quarters that had been particularly spooky, with some dastardly deeds involving a fall (or push) down the stone steps and much blood from a knife wound (accidental or otherwise).  However, a modern art display entitled Celebrations clashed strangely with the ancient artefacts and portraits of the Long Gallery and the volunteer explained that the artist invited the public to add a written card to this long table, stating one’s hopes and celebrations.  I took a pencil and wrote ‘the publishing of my latest book’ and propped it against a book shaped jigsaw cut out, decorated in curly material/shavings which were apparently inspired by this room.

Another volunteer showed me portraits of one man and his three wives (one of whom was his first cousin), saying there was ‘madness’ in the family due to the ‘gene pool diminishing in size over many generations’….most interesting.  After an embarrassingly brisk trot through the interlinking rooms, all six volunteers stood with their coats slung over their shoulders, ready for the off.  However, one curious gentleman could not resist asking me what my book was about…..(‘Prepare for the disinterested looks once you’ve told them’ I said to myself!)  To their credit though they listened politely, asked me what the book was called, and one or two (ladies) said ‘how fascinating!’ – and as one man showed us down the stairs to the door he whispered ‘my wife has felt ghosts in here in the past….Just a feeling‘ he said.

Light showers turned to thunderous rain just as we made it safely back to the car park and retraced our journey home.  A few minutes later I had occasion to tick off a bad driver for cutting me up, and my face tingled as it does when we have a spirit visitor or two in the car with us.  Keeping my eyes on the road, I told our son that a ‘gamekeeper‘ was sitting in the seat behind him, and he looked curiously round, unable to detect anything but keen to know more.  This ghostly gent told me he had lived in the Hall (1896 – perhaps the year of his death?)  He wore a brown jacket and trousers pulled up very high with braces, a large trilby-type hat covering his bowed face.  Despite the static electricity buzzing round my cheekbones I had to concentrate on peering through the manic wipers as well as opening up the vortex for him to pass.…and then I became aware that he had a little girl sitting either side of him.  These were two orphans he took it upon himself to keep beside him after discovering they were also ‘lost ones’… His wife was now beckoning from the other side and in a flash all three of them were gone!  When I later asked what had been his cause of death, he simply replied “sneezing,” – (which meant  ‘influenza’) followed by “Bless you!” – making me smile.  And the little orphans?  “War zone.”

Another interesting day of Celebrations – helping lost souls to move through the Long Gallery of light to their rightful places beside departed loved ones!

Is it morally right to hunt ghosts?

5 05 2010

This question is so close to my heart!  Although I have many stories about my daily ghost rescues – too many to choose which one to tell you about! – tonight I happened to put the television on to Livingit to see yet another ever popular programme on Ghost Hunting!

How ironic that I should be named Jane Hunting – someone who is totally opposed to the way ghosts are treated in this day and age.  This is the 21st Century and our understanding of the spirit world has moved on enormously.  Most people believe in life after death.  What they seem to overlook is that ghosts are people just like you and me who have died and are unable to move back into the light (as most of us do)  This programme hammed up the voyeuristic and self importance of  ‘lead investigators’ and ‘mobile command units’, using expressions such as ‘9 hours into the investigation’ –   webcams and recording and technical equipment providing the backbone of the programme, along with ‘spooky’ footage of these ‘brave’ investigators sitting in dark rooms and saying things like ‘God bless America’ into their walkie talkies!  The householder had reported “‘sounds, footsteps, objects moving, their little girl talking to someone who couldn’t be seen”…..typical behaviour of people trapped between one world and another and surely to be pitied!

Of course, there was the obligatory glamorous  ‘investigator in training’ to bring some female presence to the team and make it good television! After their so-called ‘investigation’ they held a meeting with the householder to ‘go over the evidence that we have gathered’.  She replied that having a bunch of ghost hunters in her home had been ‘an excellent experience’  – even though they had merely  confirmed the same things that her family had reported seeing over the years.    She said, “I hope they will give us some tools to help us find peace with what’s going on in our home”  They said “our investigations brings credibility to claims you have made”.  One of the two ‘lead investigators’ basically gave his own version of what she already knew – ie “ Upon first heading in…there seemed to be a shadow…startled me…reflection off camera?…but the shadow backed off again….I waited, but nobody came through the door.  I walked on the porch.  I stayed in the house.  I headed outside to grab a tape; noise in background heard…”  Again, this merely confirmed what the householder had already told them…

The sound, weak shadows etc” he then explained to her, “are human intelligent hauntings; humans just like you and me with another body….it is not harming her (the daughter) but there are precautions you can take.  Don’t tell her it doesn’t exist.  Tell her she is not in that situation for too long.  Distract her etc.  Give us a call .”  After they had left, the householder said this was a “great experience.  It validates what we are going through.”  Discussing their ‘successful mission’, the ghost hunters drove back to their ‘HQ’ and agreed she was “relieved nothing in her home can harm her.  If they need us they will call us….”

Throughout the entire programme I tuned in and helped among others a young girl named Amy, who had died of measles, a man with a big build who described these ‘investigators’ as ‘morons’, a woman named Catherine, a ‘poltergeist’, a fire fighter who was rushing to a fire’, many black slaves, ‘hill-billies’ and also many animals.  “Tell them we need help,” said the firefighter, who was still in the act of suffering from his painful burns and choking fumes in his throat, “what they did to us was immoral…”  (Again, just like the ghost hunters on our own British tv, one so-called  investigator placed a ball on the floor and invited a ghost to ‘move it’…when nothing happened he asked him if he was a ‘coward!’  (Can you imagine how that suffering and obviously brave fire fighter felt?)  He did his utmost to upset the unseen man, eventually inviting him to ‘push’ them….!  (No doubt frustrated with little activity for their portfolio of  ‘evidence’.)  

In a second haunting investigation they were looking for the ghost of a man hanged and a girl who fell from a window and died and was lain in the basement ‘because it was too cold to bury her outside’…..the girl in question was already RIP but I found and moved over another little girl who was ‘sick’ and a man who had been hit over the head with a blunt instrument (the man who had been hung had already passed – it doesn’t follow that a violent death results in a spirit becoming earthbound) and many hundreds more…

…So in one way the ‘ghost hunters’ helped me with my own ‘ghost hunting’ to move as many souls as possible back into the light during my own lifetime…..Hoorah!

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