Found this whilst looking into the history of an address in London, UK. *Boo* In 1887 a 12 year old girl, Anne Hinchfneld, committed suicide at a house in Ealing, London by jumping from the top of the 70ft high tower which formed part of the building. In 1934 my mother, then a nurse, was called upon to attend a case of murder and suicide at the same house. A nursemaid had thrown a young child from the tower and then jumped to her own death. Whilst waiting for the doctor to finish his examination of the bodies my mother had walked into the back garden and seen footprints appear in the grass, walk to a garden seat and stop. The seat then moved as if `being sat on. Shortly afterwards the house was sold, to remain unoccupied for ten years. But by then twenty suicides and the murder had occurrcered - all from the top of the tower. In 1944 the house was requisitioned by the Ealing Town Council to use as a store for furniture and goods removed from bombed houses and shops. The rehousing Officer for the area examined the property to confirm it was suitable, but complained of the objectionable smell in a room on the first floor. The team of council workmen employed to carry out repairs to such property refused after only three hours to stay there due to the `atmosphere and the fact that a large number of their tools were missing. It was finally necassary to obtain a work team from Greenford for the reputation of the house had spread. The Council refused to spend any more ratepayers money on the property, for they had already stripped and re-plastered the walls and relaid all the flooring in an effort to locate the cause of the mysterious smell which was experienced every 28 days. When I visited the house with my father in September 1944, it was a glorious autumn day with the sun shining on the whole area. My intention was to examine and photograph the property. The room with the smell measured about 10ft by 12ft and had been fitted out as a small chemical laboratory. A bunsen burner and several other pieces of equipment remained as evidence of its former use. Scrambling up the ladder on the third floor to the tower roof I had an impression that I was being physically helped, feeling a pair of hands on my waist, but the only other occupant of the building was on the ground floor. On reaching the top of the tower, I looked over across the roofs towards London and was surprised at the fantastic view. Slowly a mental message entered my mind to `have a look in the garden. Walk over the parapet, its only 12in on to the lawn. You wont hurt yourself. I was sitting on the low parapet preparing to jump when my father grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and, despite my protests, pulled me back commenting thatwe dont want any suicides in the family. At that moment I was convinced I would not be hurt. Later I realised that the suicides may well have suffered from the same impelling command and were not victims of a real death wish. It is also possible that the crazy paving round the base of the tower created some optical illusion giving the peculiar impression of lack of height. Another explanation may be black magic, for various magical symbols were carved in the stone of the wall. Sometime later, at about 2.30pm I took a photograph from the end of the garden, aiming at obtaining the maximum amount of the building in the view finder. The house was completely empty and locked at the time. My father was waiting for me in the front garden. Several friends claimed they could see the image of a young girl in the window and for that reason I arranged to have an enlargement to be made. In 1952, by then a member of a local amateur dramatic society, I re-visited the house to attend rehearsals of a play we were intending to produce. The play, The Poltergeist, is a little-known production but one in which Gordon Harker made his name. The director of the, group Ken Yandell, was a BBC producer living in a flat in the reconstructed house. The complete interior had been stripped out and 15 new flats created. He had no knowledge of the building when he moved in during 1950, but his terrier went `berserk every 28 days, running to the sitting room window, snarling, slobbering and trying to fight with an unseen object on the glass. During our first rehearsal one member went into a `trance and talked like a young girl called Anne, `who didnt kill myself. I only wanted to go into the garden. Either this was a case of telepathy, I had made no mention of the 12 year old suicide, or some entity speaking through the young actress. Ken complained bitterly of a `foul smell in his bathroom which occurred every four or five weeks. This was on the site of the previous laboratory. A week later, during our second rehearsal, five of the seven members present heard the sounds of footsteps some 18inches from the ceiling walk across the room, open and close a door, and continue until reaching the party wall. On the conversion of the property, various ceiling heights had been raised. Due to numerous accidents (the male lead was killed in a car crash and one of the females was badly hurt in an air disaster) and the fact that the society was in financial difficulties, the production was never staged. One day some two years later Ken Yandell told me he had spent a night in the local hospital, suffering from `sulphur poisoning. He had slept the previous night in his bath as a result of a late night party in which numerous guests had been accommodated in spare beds, divans and chairs, At 2am Kens wife had heard him moaning and gasping for breath and on rushing into the bathroom realised he was choking. The Sister at the hospital told me it wasnt sulphur poisoning - `people dont suddenly develop this when lying in a bath - but the symptoms closely resembled this type of poisoning. Other flat owners told Ken of ghostly incidents. The couple who owned the flat which incorporated the corridor leading to the tower had heard the sounds of a `limping man with a walking stick walk through their sitting room and their bedroom. Another couple, living in the tower, the roof of which had been scaled off, had watched their front door bell push being operated by an unseen hand whilst they were sitting in the back garden. Some years later, in 1961, whilst connected with a popular commercial television programme called `Jims Inn, I met one of the script writers, a Jack Edwards, who during a casual conversation mentioned he was experiencing trouble with the local Gas Board. He had complained several times of the smell of sulphurous gas in his bathroom and numerous visits had been paid by officials. But all to no avail. The smell continued to pervade the room every month. `The funny thing is, he told me,`there are no gas pipes in the flats. I hardly bothered to ask him where he lived. He was still experiencing the trouble in 1963 when I met him again in London. The house was pulled down in 1970 and an entirely new block of flats erected on the site. But vague comments of `unusual noises are still heard by neighbours.
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 12:23:30 +0000
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