ashtongate said:

I was singing the Peter Russell-Clark intro song in the shower yesterday, and today I heard that he had died.

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Richie said:

No air con, we were using a radiator. Regardless, how do you explain the icey air when all windows were closed. The incident chilled us both to the bone. Never been so scared before or since.

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Richie said:

A teenage mate told me about this and swore it was true. He was walking home with another of our mates one evening when they saw a figure of a man lit clearly by the street lamps about 50 feet in front of them. The more they looked the more they became amazed that the figure was not so much walking but gliding. He and his mate froze then the figure crossed the road and with a brief flash of lite disappeared into the wall of a derelict building. When they told me I did not believe them and accused them of being on the grog. They replied ''no way, we were stone cold sober''.

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ashtongate said:

I was singing the Peter Russell-Clark intro song in the shower yesterday, and today I heard that he had died.

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Mr Cleansheets said:

Despite being absolutely scientific in everything I do/think, I have experienced quite a lot of weird stuff that makes me agnostic as to the presence of the arcane in our lives.

I do NOT believe in anything supernatural but am open to the idea that there are natural processes we do not yet understand which might account for the weirdness that sometimes happens. One weirdness is the bizarre recurrence of the number 242 in my life.

Another weirdness was that I used to get this feeling occasionally, when I was younger (and yes, pot and LSD were a major part of my life at the time) which I called the psychic rush. When the feeling came over me (and I was always sober-ish) I suddenly had the power of prediction. I made a number of crazy calls which all came true and the following is the most spectacular example.

I was 22 and working out in the WA desert as a field hand on a mineral survey. I was stewing in my own mental juices out on the flat red infinity and no drugs other than alcohol were available for many weeks. Anyway, I hadn't had the psychic rush for ages and one day I was working and listening to the cricket. Lunch arrived and the radio (in country WA) went to the Country Hour, in which I had no interest, but suddenly the psychic rush arrived and I switched off the radio.

I sat there for a minute or so, waiting for a prediction to happen, and then I decided that when I turned the radio back on, the first thing I'd hear would be 242.

I switched the radio back on and heard: "... ranging from 242 up to..."

I switched it off again and sat there buzzing with immanence. I literally felt like god (which is a very dangerous thing for a young man to think).

That night in the bar (where the field crew always had dinner) I was relating the story to a frankly disbelieving group of colleagues. They made a number of amusing comments relating to my sanity and all of a sudden the psychic rush happened again.

"I'm feeling it now!" I said. "I can predict anything."

"Go on then," they challenged me. "Predict something amazing."

"Okay," I said. "When this song finishes the next song we'll hear will be Pretty Vacant."

They all guffawed out loud because the same MOTR muzack had played for about seven weeks but ... I kid you not ... two minutes later, the visceral rock stylings of Pretty Vacant burst from the speakers.

My colleagues stared at me in awe but I was not in the least surprised. The psychic rush always delivered.

MInd you, years later, it did occur to me that someone who worked at the restaurant may have overheard me and raced out to their car where a Sex Pistols tape was waiting. That person, to this day, may be still telling the same story from a slightly different angle.

Of course, as a novelist these days, I have totally leached this seam for all it's worth.

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Mr Cleansheets said:

That last story reminds me of some yonks ago when Mrs C and I were in York and decided to do one of the evening ghost tours.

Our chap turned up in a big flashy cape and regaled us with stories about particular ghosts in particular locations, but I ruined his night towards the end when the following exchange occurred:

Him: And this house is regularly haunted by none other than Anne Boleyn.

All: Ooooh

Him: And how do we know she was Anne Boleyn? She has three breasts!

All: Ooooh

Me: Well in that case she's not Anne Boleyn.

Him: What?

Me: Anne Boleyn was reputed to have three nipples (and also six fingers according to some) but she certainly didn't have three breasts.

Him: I see...

Me: I mean seriously... is Henry the Eighth really going to marry someone with three breasts?

Him: Yes, I see.

Me: You're asking us to believe that the king of England... utterly obsessed with his dynastic legacy... would entrust the future of the kingdom to a woman with an extra nork?

Him: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!


Yes, I am that guy.

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erogenouszone said:

This is my idea of spooky. The legend of the Mary Celeste. Ship found drifting in the middle of the ocean, no damage, no sign of disturbance however no crew or passengers ever found or recovered. They all just disappeared...

Mary Celeste - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

Abandoned Ship: The Mary Celeste

What really happened aboard the Mary Celeste? More than a century after her crew went missing, a scenario is emerging

www.smithsonianmag.com

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