So who exactly are we? part 3

Britain was settling into a nice (ish) peaceful (ish) time of farming and small village communities. The "new" religion of Christianity was prevalent in almost all of the country of England, Ireland and Scotland (although some small pockets of the old religion flourished in more rural and isolated parts).

Of course there were wars between different groups within the country, but on the whole, it wasnt too bad a place to be.

Until in the 8th Century, bands of fierce raiders began to attack our coasts. They were the Vikings (or Norsemen).



Sorry about this - but does anyone else instantly think of Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis whenever anyone says "The Vikings"? Plus Im now humming the theme tune trying to write this hahaha






They came across the North Sea, just as the Anglo-Saxons had done 400 years earlier. Vikings is a generic term we use for them, but they were from 3 separate Scandinavian countries: Denmark, Sweden and Norway.



"From the fury of the Northmen deliver us, O Lord."


The first place the Vikings attacked in Britain was the monastery at Lindisfarne, a holy island situated off the Northumberland coast in the north east of England. A few years later the island of Iona (off the west coast of Scotland), came under attack and its monks were slaughtered.

Soon no region of the British Isles was safe from the Vikings. They attacked villages and towns in Wales, Scotland, Ireland, the Isle of Man and England.

No matter how many times the Vikings were beaten, they always came back.


The last of the Picts appear to have vanished some time after the Viking invasions of Northern Scotland. Were they wiped out? Or did they just become swallowed up and inter-marry with the new rulers of their homelands? Possibly some clue can be gathered from the town names in places like Shetland and Orkney. They are mainly of Norse or possible even Celtic origin. There appear to be no remaining town or settlement names that sound remotely like anything else....which could indicate mass extermination of the race of Picts.


I only say this because if you look at places such as Australia, there are still many places with Aboriginal names because the Aboriginal people are still there. But in places like Tasmania, where the indiginous population was virtually wiped out, there are very very few.

Just a theory, but maybe the right one????

So a very few lucky people living today on these islands could have some trace of Pictish ancestry - but as we have no genetic markers to compare this against (at least not yet) I guess that whole point is just hyperthetical for the forseeable future.

There is no doubt that the Vikings slaughtered a whole lot of Anglo-Saxons, Celts, and the decendants of the Romans, but they didnt kill everybody.

Why not? Well there are indications that there was a pretty strong slave trade going on between Scandinavia and the British Isles. Very profitable! And also, how do new rulers build their empires and armies? On taxes and tithes - and you need people to work the land if you want to fill your coffers.


But they didnt defeat the entire country. Saxons still retained a strong hold in the south and so the country was divided into two.The area eventually settled by Vikings was called the Danelaw. It formed a boundary separating Anglo-Saxon England from Viking England and was defined in a treaty between the English King Alfred and Viking King Guthrum in 880 A.D. It lay north of Watling Street (a Roman road running from London north-west to Chester) and covered northern and eastern England. It included counties north of an imaginary line running from London to Bedford and then up to Chester.

We can tell where the Vikings settled by place names of towns and villages today. Some of the names of places in Britain are made up of Viking words.

Place names ending in –by eg. Derby, Rugby, Whitby, Selby, Grimsby
–by meant farm or homestead (village). These places mark the earliest Viking settlements.

Derby - A village where deer are found


Place names ending in –thorpe (or -thorp, -throp or –trop) eg. Scunthorpe and Grimethorpe-thorpe meant farms.

Place names ending in –toft or-tofts.
A -toft referred to the site of a house or a plot of land.


Some other lasting legacies of our Viking ancestors (or not if you still think you're not a mongrel at the moment)

The Vikings left their imprint on the island in many ways: in government, legal procedures, language, and even arithmetic.

They transmitted to the English with whom they dwelt, among other things, their duodecimal system (counting in twelves instead of tens); therefore, establishing to this day the marketing unit of a dozen, the measuring formula of 12 inches to a foot, the monetary equation of 12 pence to a shilling, and the legal entity of a jury of "12 good men and true".

Maybe they weren't THAT barbaric after all?

And another little snippet before I leave part 3........ Today all the multitudes of familiar English and American patronymic ending in son; such as Jackson, Robertson, Thompson, Stevenson, Johnson, etc. clearly manifest their Scandinavian origin.

But dont relax just yet, as I have more to add before we can try and figure out exactly WHO or rather WHAT we are !

So who exactly are we? part 2

Oh Im going to love confusing you all now.

Just to recap - we've briefly covered the Celts and the Picts.

The Picts lived in Pictland, and the Celts lived...well, everywhere else in the British Isles!



Until, of course, yet another race of people decided to visit mainland Britain...... THE SCOTS!

Who came from (drum roll) .............Northern Ireland.


There are a few different theories about the origins of the Scots (or Scoti/Scotti), but one thing everyone agrees on, is that from the Emerald Isle they came, and that they were a Celtic tribe.
It's thought that the name may mean something along the lines of 'raiders' or 'pirates'. In any event, people who would have been recognised as Scots may have been living in Argyll as early as c.300.

Other Celtic tribes or factions also moved across the sea from Ireland and settled in Wales.

Ok - so who came next in our chequered past?




Shall we try the Romans?





The Romans ruled Gaul (Gallia as they called it) although today we know it as France. In 55 B.C. the Roman General Julius Caesar led his army across the sea from Gaul to Britain. He wanted to make Britain part of Rome's empire.



The British Celts fought bravely, and Caesar soon gave up and went back to Gaul.




Next year, in 54 B.C. the Romans came back. This time Caesar brought 30,000 soldiers. He had a few fights, managed to capture a Celtic hill-fort, then he left again. He didn't think Britain was worth a long war, and he wanted to get back to Rome.

Nearly a hundred years later, 43 A.D., the Romans returned. Emperor Claudius sent an army to invade Britain. The army had four legions, and this time the Romans conquered the southern half of Britain, and made it part of the Roman Empire.

The Romans ruled over England for 400 years. But in 410 A.D., the Romans left England because their homes in Italy were being attacked by fierce tribes and every soldier was needed.


Which then left Britain virtually undefended and it became possible for the Angles, Saxons and Jutes from across the North Sea who had been raiding the coast of Britain for a hundred years, to increase their pressure. Instead of raiding and then withdrawing, by about 450 A.D they were beginning to settle here. The invasion consisted of a series of attacks on different parts of the country over a period of years and under a number of leaders.

The Angles, Saxons, and Jutes are known as the Anglo-Saxons. The Angles and the Saxon tribes were the largest of the three attacking tribes and so we often know them as Anglo-Saxons. They shared the same language but were each ruled by different strong warriors.

The Jutes settled mainly in Kent and referred to themselves as 'the Kentings', which means the men living in Kent.

The Angles settled in East Anglia.

The Saxons settled in areas of Essex (East Saxons), Sussex (South Saxons), Middlesex (Middle Saxons), and Wessex (West Saxons).

So who do we have so far in our little cooking pot of genetic material?

Celts, Picts, Scots, Romans, Angles, Saxons and Jutes.

Confused yet? Well save your confusion for the time being as Ive got quite a bit more to add in part 3.

So who exactly are we? part 1

For many many years we have been described as "Anglo-Saxon".......but is this description accurate?


You hear many descriptions of the British as being "a nation of mongrels" and I suppose to a certain degree, that is probably a pretty fair description of the majority of the population of the British Isles (even though very few of us would EVER want to admit it).

I mean, we were invaded enough times by so many different peoples to cause so much of a mix of genes that are there REALLY likely to be many of us who can claim to be "pure Brits"?

But before going down that whole route, wouldn't "Anglo-Celtic" have been a better description for us as a combined race, rather than Anglo-Saxon? The Celts were around a lot longer so why do they get no mention in our heritage when we describe our race to the rest of the world?

What made me start this train of thought was a conversation I had with a friend in America, when I started talking about the English, Welsh, Irish and Scottish. He thought we were all just "one lot of people" and didn't realise we had so many different "national" identities.

My response kind of shocked him a little, and I realised I'd been pretty vehement in my denial of having any Welsh blood and probably no "English". We do get pretty defensive if someone doesn't acknowledge our (perceived or otherwise) origins.

So I am going to try and break it down a little for anyone wondering about "us lot over here".


The Celts. The start of our roots?




So, we must first go back to go forward, to a time shortly after the last ice age and our hunter-gatherer Mesolithic past (8000 –4000 BC).


Iberian hunter/gatherers moved through France and lower Britain and finally entered Scotland around 7000BC. Isn't it amazing that the very first of these people would have actually walked across what is now the English Channel, between France and the south coast of England?

The islands off the West coast of Scotland give us further evidence of the movement of these Mesolithic people, by the finds of large shell mounds and various tools such as fish hooks and harpoons. But artefacts from this period are quite rare.

This then leads me off at a slight tangent...., as not only did we have Celtic origins, there were also a whole other race of people to take into account. The people we know as "The Picts" up in Scotland.

Who were The Picts?

The years 2500 – 700 BC saw the entrance of the Beaker People from Northern and Central Europe and the start of Scotland’s Bronze Age. The beaker people are known by this name for the remains of their dead being cremated and buried in pots and interred in single graves, unlike the Neolithic people who buried their dead in groups. It is also recognised that the beaker people were the ones to introduce metalwork to Scotland. There is no record of any conflicts between the two peoples in Scotland although their lifestyles were very different in many ways. That leads to the theory that the Picts were an aboriginal race and non-Celtic. The difference in language must also be taken into consideration with this theory, as it is believed that the Picts did not speak with a Celtic tongue.


The Picti (or "Painted People") were named as such by the Roman Eumenius in 297 AD. These fierce warrior tribes, certainly north of the Antonine wall, indeed appeared to be non Celtic in their origin.

Next we have the controversial area of language.

Doesn't it stand to reason that if the Picts spoke a form of Celtic, at least some of the spoken word would be the same? This does not seem to be the case, as St Columbus biographer states that the Irish saint needed an interpreter when he preached to the Pictish King Brudei in 565 AD on the banks of Loch Ness.

The ‘Ogham’ (the written language of the Picts found carved on some of the standing stones in Pictland) is also shrouded in doubt. Although the markings are similar to that of the Celts, the script is not in Celtic context and is barely, if at all, decipherable.

So, that's got the first 2 of our potential ancestral candidates out of the way. Watch this space for part 2.

The Cumbria floods of 2009

This is going to be a hard one to write about. But I feel that I should record my thoughts on this, due to my involvement.

The flooding that occurred in November 2009 in Cumbria shocked the nation. We had what was classed as a 1 in 1000 year event. Cumbria was hit by what is now being called "flooding of biblical proportions".

But I dont want to talk about the facts and figures. I want to talk about the feelings that I experienced, and the things that I saw. I want to offer a dedication to PC Bill Barker who tragically lost his life when the North Side Bridge collapsed in Workington and he was swept away into the raging River Derwent.
PC Bill Barker


I want to pay my respects to the wonderful people of Cumbria, and their magnificent spirit. And to show my pride in my colleagues at the Environment Agency who worked round the clock to the point of exhaustion without ever complaining.
Some of my colleagues working through the night in Cockermouth


Glyn talking to a local MP in Workington

Workington and Cockermouth were the places most reported on, but there were so many other places that were hit by the rising waters. And so I went (along with one of my colleagues, Lynsey) up to Keswick to see where we were needed and what we could do.

The drive to Keswick was scary. The roads were flooded, and on either side of the A66 fields were under water, making the whole landscape look more like an estuary or huge wetland rather than fertile farm land. The bridge in Keswick had been closed for safety reasons, so to access the part of the town that we needed to get to, we had to drive a long circular route and come in alongside the River Greta (shown here in full flood).


The flood waters in Keswick had receded at this point from the streets, but the River Greta was still a raging, vicious looking monster, and we were expecting more rain. And so we went and set up a mobile information centre on the car park of the local Catholic Chuch "Our Lady of the Lakes and St Charles Borromeo" with the kind permission of the priest, Father Peter Sharrock. The photo of the church was taken on a nice sunny day before the flooding.


This second photo was as the flood waters were rising, taken from the chuch car park towards the gates.





We were joined by members of Cumbria County Council, the local Flood Action Group, and the Red Cross. We wanted to be on hand for any residents who needed information, had enquiries, were concerned about any more predicted rainfall, or just wanted someone to talk to. Even if all they wanted was someone to listen and to care, and even give them a hug. What more can you offer to someone who has just lost their home and everything they owned? Words at a time like that don't mean very much. But we cared. Very much so.

Across the road from our centre (we had kindly been granted the use of the mobile library by the council), occupants of the houses were busy dragging out ruined furniture, carpets, (and anything else they could move) onto the street to be collected and taken away. People who had already finished this very sad task were taping little notes to the inside of their front room windows giving contact details incase people needed to find them. Some of these were the addresses of relatives, or emergency centres.

I was amazed at how these people were coping. Neighbours were hugging each other, and standing out in the street together talking quietly, and surveying each others ruined possessions. Nobody was screaming and shouting (that was probably what I would have been doing if it were me - wanting to vent my frustration and grief at someone or something).

But the Cumbrians are a very hardy people, with great spirit and resilience. I work with them every day and I love them dearly.

A few of the locals were using the church car park as a short cut and spotted Lynsey and I standing outside in the pouring rain, with information sheets, and our name badges and Environment Agency jackets on so that people would know who we were, and that we were available.

A little old lady, who I had just watched throwing her things into a skip outside her devastated home, came over to me, grabbed my hands and said "Now, you are ganna get your death stood out here. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

I thanked her and said "no thank you, we'll be fine. Is there anything we can help YOU with?", to which she replied no there wasnt, and then laughed and said unless we wanted to send any young and good looking firemen her way as she was very upset at missing out on being carried from her home like some of the pensioners in Cockermouth had. I waited until she had gone back across the road to her home, and then I burst into tears. I could not believe the generosity being shown. Or the humour that these people were finding at a horrible time like this. Everyone passing had a joke to make "Hey lass are we ganna need our wellies tomorra?" "Shall ah trade me car in for a boat?"

God bless every single one of them.

Usually, even in a crisis, I can be relied upon to raise peoples spirits, and have a laugh and a joke with my colleagues. But this day words failed even me. I remember driving into Keswick and just staring open mouthed. I remember Lynsey gasping and saying "Oh my God" at some of the homes we passed. Other than that, and discussing our plan of action and the information we were to give out, and making sure that Lynsey was feeding back to the office any information we could gather, we didnt really say a great deal.

The drive back to our office in Penrith was a very sombre one. We were cold, wet and hungry (we hadnt even taken anything to eat or drink with us when I dashed out of the office 8 hours earlier, grabbing the car keys and shouting to Lynsey to come on). Both of us were wrapped up in our own thoughts. We were to go to Cockermouth the next day, and although in a crisis things are very exciting - and by exciting, I mean you are so pumped full of adrenalin that you are performing your duties without even having to think what they are - neither of us were looking forward to it one little bit.

Nothing in the years I have worked for the Environment Agency prepared me for the shock I would feel, or the depression that settled upon me like an icy cloak that night. I sat at home and listened to the news reports, and tried to get some sleep - but in a situation like this you dont sleep. Your mind is turning over and over, reliving the sights and sounds. Trying hard not to imagine what those poor people were thinking. And squeezing back the tears at something as simple as being offered a cuppa by an old lady who had just lost everything she had in the world, but yet still found the time to care enough for two "girls" she thought would freeze to death standing in the rain on a deserted church car park.

I was amazed at the extreme effort put in by all of my colleagues. Caroline who was heavily pregnant, but worked every single day - even over the weekend - dealing with the media enquiries and VIP visits to the county. And Sarah who was pictured on the front of the News and Star, with such a look of desolation on her face as she tried to comfort a friend, that it sent shivers down my spine. Our Ops delivery guys who worked round the clock clearing debris, and sandbagging to give additional protection to the flood defences. All of the staff who volunteered to come off their usual day jobs to man the Incident Room and take phone calls just to relieve the pressure from the staff who were right in the centre of things. And our North West Comms Team. They kept the world informed. The requests going to that office were incredible in their volume. The phones rang constantly, and staff were on call throughout the night. I spent one late night shift with them observing their professionalism. The accuracy of the information they delivered, and the speed with which it was obtained would put any International News Agency to shame. And what you have to bare in mind is that none of this information is available on a computer screen. Each request - sometimes with under a half an hour dealine - involved phone calls, requesting the most up to the minute data, getting this checked and approved (and this was from staff who were already being bent out of shape trying to keep this data coming in and collated, along with answering their own enquiries from other parts of the business) and then feeding this back to whichever reporter or News Desk had requested it.

There are so many more people who deserve praise such as the police, fire service, ambulance crews, mountain rescue teams, and the army and RAF. Every single person involved gave 100% of what they had.....and then still managed to give more, despite incredible fatigue.

But as you read this, please spare a thought for the hundreds of our staff who dropped everything to work 24 hours a day, under tremendous pressure to support the people of Cumbria. We had volunteers coming in from other regions such as North East, Midlands, and Head Office (Bristol). We very rarely get praise - and that is not what Im looking for now, and I know it's not what any of my colleagues would want either. We don't just do this because "it's a job" - we do it because we genuinely love what we do and believe that we can make a difference.

One success we can take away from the Cumbria floods of 2009 are the Carlisle Flood Defences. This multi million pound scheme was started following the terrible flooding in Carlisle in 2005. Even though the scheme had not been finished and parts were still under construction when the flood waters of November 2009 started to rampage through the county....they held.

Sign up to our free flood warning service
We can't always stop the sea and rivers from flooding, but we can tell you when it's going to happen. Some 70 per cent of those who can sign up to receive Floodline Warnings Direct service still have not done so. If you're one of them, sign up now.

Floodline Warnings Direct is a free service that provides flood warnings direct to you by telephone, mobile, email, SMS text message and fax.

Sign up for Floodline Warnings Direct online
You can also sign up for Floodline Warnings Direct by calling Floodline on 0845 988 1188 or Typetalk 0845 602 6340. Simple advice on what to do, before, during and after a flood is also available from Floodline

This service proved invaluable during the Cumbria floods, and our warning system ensured that the emergency services were well prepared and were able to evacuate the majority of residents before the worst of the flooding hit. It also gave thousands of residents, who had already signed up for the service, advanced warning. This enabled people to prepare themselves for the likelihood of a major flooding event, such as removing valuables to an upper floor of their homes or businesses; sandbagging; and making sure that elderly or infirm neighbours and relatives were being helped.

Thank you for reading this, and if you live in an area at risk of flooding and have not yet signed up for our Flood Warning service, please do it. In reality, it could mean the difference between life and death.

Murphy has a better social life than I do !

When I first moved here, I was a bit daunted at the prospect of starting a new life in a new place where I didn't know a single person.

Maybe that isn't so hard in a big town or city, but I moved to a very small Lancashire village which is basically one street, and has a population (which I have now found out is combined with the neighbouring village) of just over 1000 people.

Everyone seems to have been born and bred here, as were their parents and grandparents and so on right back to the founding of the village. Everybody knows everybody else, and it's a very closely knit place with lots of community involvement in everything. And I was instantly recognised as "someone new".

But I have never been to a more friendly place in my life. Everyone is so welcoming. And due to the location, everyone seems to own a dog, so dog walking across the moors, through the forest or down the river is a big thing and everyone uses it as an excuse to hear the latest gossip, catch up, and socialise.

And dogs are such funny animals. Not for them the hesitancy of waiting for someone to say hello. They just run up to each other, have a sniff, wag their respective tails and then indulge in a game of chase or play fighting.



And that is exactly what Murphy did. He has got so many friends here. There is Milly the 4 year old Doberman who lives two doors up, then Dennis his favourite playmate (a little 18 month old Westie) who lives 4 doors up. Boris the German Pointer who lives near the pub. And Sol the Springer who lives across the road. Then we also have Holly, Trixie and Daisy (Border Collie, Lurcher puppy, and Golden Labrador) who live at the back of me, and Skye and Sally who are the two Border Collies who live in a lovely house overlooking the lake. Oh and we cant forget Digsy the terrier and Star and Lilly (Lilly is Star's mum and they are both black labs).

I know every single dogs name, and where they live, but none of the owners names. I was chatting with Zoe who is "Dennis' mum" two weeks ago and we were laughing because she said "Everyone knows you as "Murphy's mum" but the others were saying that they don't know your name"....and I had to admit that I was exactly the same. So we all got together on Wednesday for a long walk and made a point of introducing ourselves properly to each other.

Wouldn't it be so much simpler if we were like dogs? No reticence about making introductions to strangers. No worries about "will they say hello back to me". And definately no hang ups about making a fool of yourself. Maybe if we still had tails we would find it so much easier.

So I suppose that I really need to thank my silly Springer for making me so many new friends here. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably have spent the next few years living in isolation in this village and being too shy to walk up to anyone and say hello.

The Burn Book

Oh dear - I have to come clean about this one.

I have something in my possession that isn't very nice at all, and as someone who always tries to "do as you would be done by" I feel this is going to be a little bit of karma just waiting to come back on me. But for all I try to stop keeping it, I find it funny to read back over the years about the people who have infuriated me.

The idea for calling it "The Burn Book" came from the film "Mean Girls" - but the idea to have something like this came from my all time favourite film "The Quiet Man". And I used to call it "My Quiet Vent Book"



The large gentleman shaking John Waynes hand in the still above was the character Squire "Red" Will Danaher. And Red Will kept a book. If you did something to offend him, to annoy him, or just because he didnt like your face, your name went into the book. And if you had REALLY done something to anger him, he got his sidekick to strike a line through the name and then would yell out "Aha - death for him".

Obviously I dont wish death upon anyone - and I dont actually think Squire Danaher did either. But I found the idea of having such a book hilarious, and so started off my own version in 1988 (dear God - that's 22 years ago, where has the time gone???).

I found my "Burn Book" on Monday night when I was unpacking some boxes and I sat here reading it and laughing until I cried at some of the stupid things I had written.

Entry number one was:

1988
"Sylvia Barlow - boss and witch. How much filing does she expect one person to do in a day? As if I am paid enough. If I get one more box of P45's dumped on my desk I'll feed them to her"

2 years later in 1990 the same person was obviously still being a big meany:

"Sylvia Barlow - I am sure the devil has taken a human form"

My reasoning at the time was rather than vent at people who upset me, and potentially causing arguements, I would vent in my book and let it all out on the pages that nobody would ever see.

I actually dont like confrontations - although I do stand up for myself and have the skill (or should that be a bad habit??) of always having an answer for everything, and delivering it with conviction (even if Im wrong, it sounds as though I am right).
And reading my Burn Book the other night made me realise (in hindsight) how very very petty some things are that make us angry, but we feel so justified about them when they are fresh.

It seems so funny that I was so upset with my old boss, that I had to put her name in my book because she was (in my mind) being incredibly unfair. Was I really so angry with her for giving me too much work to do? These days if that happens I just say "Sorry - Im snowed under at the moment so if it can wait I will do it when I've worked through the priority stuff - if not, you'll need to find someone else to sort it for you".... or I do that incredibly fashionable thing of "delegating" to one of the juniors.

Back then I would steam about something like that for hours. These days I'm far more easy going.

Although having said that, the last entry into the Burn Book was in October 2009 and is as follows:

"BT, all their employees, managing directors, anyone remotely associated with them, and their contract engineers. One phone call to India to report a fault on my line and they have cancelled my phone line and broadband. 7 phone calls later the muppet at the other end of the phone (this time in Scotland) managed to advise me that the "wrong order had been made".... I presume that means somebody either didnt understand me or pressed the wrong button. And now have been advised it will be up to 21 days before they can get the line back on again. Arrrgggggggggghhhhh!!!!!! Customer Service? Shoot them all!"

Maybe I haven't mellowed with age after all.

Scaring myself to death !!!

Well last night I couldn't sleep, so I settled down on the sofa to watch some programmes online.

Now why I opted for the programme choice that I did, I will never know. But first I started off with episodes of Most Haunted on You Tube. I find that programme incredibly funny with Derek Acorah trying to look as though he is being possessed, and talking to his Ethiopian spirit guide who's name happens to be Sam (of course I am SURE there were many Ethiopians named Sam several hundred years ago hehehe). Yvette Fielding is so lame, screaming at every sound and attributing these little knocks and bangs (in the early hours, in very old creaky houses I might add) to spirits of the departed trying to make contact with a full film crew.

Anyway, I watched the episodes on Pendle Hill, or (as the Most Haunted team renamed it) Pendle HELL. Now the story of the Pendle witches is very famous around these parts, especially as I live virtually in the shadow of it. For those of you who dont know..........

In the year 1612, at Lancaster gaol, in the English county of Lancashire, ten men and women were hanged for the crime of witchcraft.



The Pendle Witches, as they became known, were believed to have been responsible for the murder by witchcraft of seventeen people in and around the Forest of Pendle.

So at 3am, after watching the melodramatics of the Most Haunted team, and wondering if ghosts/spirits really do exist (because I hadn't been convinced so far), I then decided to search the net for more on ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night.

I am very open minded about these sorts of things, until I have proof either way. Ghosts may exist - they may not. Until I see proof in either direction I shall keep the same opinion.

I will readily admit that in my previous home (a 500 + year old farmhouse) there were a few things that happened that I couldnt provide explanations for. I am very rational and very analytical. Groans in the night I would attribute to the ancient beams moving in the house. Bangs and knocks ........ well pipes contract and expand with the variation of temperature dont they? However, one time my car keys vanished from the hook they were always kept on, and were found in the cutlery drawer (and please remember that I live alone so only I could have moved them) - maybe I had a bit of a brain fart and dropped them in the drawer with the spoons?????

Another time my dog came screaming out of the bedroom with his tail between his legs and all his hackles up and stood in the doorway growling and snarling into the dark corridor. He then point blank refused to go back in that room for 2 days - and this is the dog that wont be parted from me for 5 seconds and insists on sleeping on the bed with his head on my feet. NOTHING would tempt him to cross the corridor into my room and he slept on his own in the lounge.

Friends of mine have said that they have seen figures walking around in the lounge and someone standing in the shadows from the passageway - but in all the time that I lived there, I never saw anything. And odds are that if something unworldly was sharing my home, in all those years I surely would have seen SOMETHING!!!!

So here I sat, looking at videos and photos and reading stories of scary happenings, and getting a bit twitchy, when all of a sudden there was an almight crash from the kitchen. I jumped off the sofa and stood on the dog - who then shrieked which made me scream. It didnt help that all the lights were off too. The house is haunted and Im being punished for not believing!!!! I have a poltergeist !!!!!

My ghost/poltergeist/evil entity turned out to be a potatoe that had rolled out of the bag on top of the microwave and landed in a pan on the draining board!!!