I am soaking wet and very cold at the moment. Up here the weather always changes around the autumnal equinox. To cheer us all up (well, that's the idea) here's a nice little story about how a ‘spooky’ event, (one which made it into local folklore, no less) really originated.

If I had to choose one word to describe my father it would probably be mischievous. He had a bright sense of mischief and some very strange hobbies. He came from quite a well off background, and as the elder of two boys his father would take them to visit some of his rather posh friends. Once they were taken to stay in a manor house in a very old, historically rich, village. Usually there were other boys to play with on these visits, this time there were none and my father and uncle soon became bored.

One of the servants in the manor house then told them a story about how, whenever disaster threatened, the bells of the local parish church would ring out at midnight. Well, of course, my father decided that was the answer to his boredom. Somehow he and his brother contrived to get the key to the church, copy it into a bar of soap and make their own copy of the key. (My father’s hobbies included chemistry and alchemy!)

That done, one night they slipped out of the manor house, carrying a long length of rope and unlocked the church. They went up to the belfry, looped the rope around the bell and threw both ends out of the window. Then they left the church, carefully locking the door after them, went outside, grabbed the rope, used it to ring the bell ‘like mad’ and then just pulled on the rope and took it away with them, back to their beds.

The next morning (I kid you not) everything was in uproar. The bells had been rung. The vicar had checked, the doors were locked. Something terrible was about to happen for sure. The incident even turned up in a book on the village, citing it as ‘proof’ that something strange was going on in the little church.

It certainly was – two bored and mischievous boys adding their own chapter to local folklore!

I’ve always tried to keep a reasonably level head about hauntings and other psychic phenomena. It’s not a simple ‘do you believe in ghosts?’ question, although that’s one way of starting the debate. It’s ‘Do you believe in this particular account of a haunting?’ because at this stage in our knowledge I think every episode should be considered individually. It’s a lot more work of course, but it does prevent believers and unbelievers splitting into two opposite camps and spitting fire at each other. At least, it does most of the time.

So yes, I believe in some ghosts. I believe there are very odd things happening in my house and garden. I lived in an unpleasantly haunted house when I was a child. But that’s not to say that every footstep outside my door, every weird happening has a paranormal explanation. If I thought that I’d probably be in a straightjacket by now.

So when something ‘odd’ happens I get out my notebook and jot down as much info as I can. I look at possible explanations. I try and reproduce the sound, smell, visual effect for myself. For example, one very convincing ghost photo I took a few years ago was later explained by the fact that someone had lit a joss stick nearby and the smoke blew across to the end of the kitchen where I was photographing.

But that doesn’t explain the time one of my daughters opened her mouth and a load of white – well what? It wasn’t smoke (she doesn’t smoke, never has); it wasn’t steam or her breath (it was summer when it happened); and it certainly wasn’t talcum powder. Once it came out of her mouth it moved sideways, hovered about a bit and then disappeared as quickly as it had come, i.e. it didn’t disperse. Some might say it was ectoplasm, but for the moment I’m keeping an open mind. We had other, similar occurrences around the same time. Maybe something or someone was trying to materialise. Maybe there is some other, good reason for it.