In search of the holiday spirit
Every time I book a coastal cottage in the West Country, there is always a small part of me that hopes it will be haunted. It seldom, if ever, is. When the children were small, we stayed in an old fisherman’s house in Weymouth, where the lights went out one night while we were watching TV. But it was hardly Dead of Night material. And in a caravan at Durdle Door Holiday Park, we were once startled awake at 3am by a loud pounding on an interior wall. The following day, Mr Home Front claimed to have seen the ghost of a dog, running a few feet off the ground round the back of the caravan. He was on the Stella Artois in those days, which might explain that little mystery. The best spooky stories always seem to happen to close acquaintances who, annoyingly, brush it off as having a...
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