黑洞社区

On a dark and windy night in Norfolk last month I was haunted. Yes. Haunted. Well, either that or I dreamt it, but for the purposes of this blog I am sticking with the spooky version of events.

Whatever did happen, I was genuinely terrified. Though I don鈥檛 believe in ghosts, I will not be staying in Block A at the National Construction College ever, ever again. And, should you find yourself round that neck of the woods and in need of a stop over, I would strongly advise you keep on driving.

The best thing about this 鈥済host story鈥� is that absolutely everything about it fits in with an archetypal slasher movie.

The location: a strange collection of creaking, unkempt buildings miles from civilisation with no transport links.

The weather: howling gales and horizontal rain plagued the college during my three-day stay.

The people: Or lack of. In the evenings the campus felt deserted. For a block supposedly full of young building apprentices it just didn鈥檛 add up.

Then, please humour me here, there was the feeling. When I walked into my room I instantly didn鈥檛 like it. And not just because it smelt like industrial disinfectant and didn鈥檛 come with a hairdryer. It was a gut reaction and I found myself checking the cupboards and peeking behind the bathroom door before I鈥檇 even got my coat off.

That night I just couldn鈥檛 sleep. The room was cold, then hot. The TV was making a buzzing noise, even when I unplugged it at the wall and a draft would float out from under the bathroom door. A light from somewhere in the grounds glowed dimly through the paper thin curtains so everything had a shadow. I hate shadows.

Eventually I must have drifted off because at around 3am I started to slowly wake up. It took me a second to realise I could feel a very slow, deliberate pressure on my mouth.

It wasn鈥檛 constant though. It was moving. Then I knew exactly what it felt like - a finger. It was slowly tracing back and forth and at first I assumed I must have been doing it in my sleep. But when I looked down, my arms were firmly by my sides.

A quick shake of my head and the sensation stopped. I decided not to give much more thought and fell back to sleep. Things always seem better in the morning after all.

The next day, in true horror film style, I am in for a scary revelation. Chatting to one of the PR contacts at the college he asked if I drove to the NCC. I explain I got a taxi: 鈥淭hat鈥檚 good,鈥� he says. 鈥淲hen people drive they Google the place for an address and than all that stuff about the hauntings pops up.鈥�

鈥淲hat?鈥� I shriek.

鈥淥h, you know,鈥� he continues. 鈥淭hat this is one of the most haunted places in the UK. It being an old RAF base and everything. The hauntings of Bircham Newton? What鈥檚 wrong?鈥�

On site at Constructionariam my story has already reached most people and everyone is chattering about it. Turns out I am literally the only person who didn鈥檛 know about the famous hauntings.

I tell my story. Prefixing almost every sentence with 鈥渂ut of course I don鈥檛 believe in any of that stuff鈥� and, 鈥淚鈥檓 not saying it was a ghost or anything but鈥︹�� and then it鈥檚 his turn to go sheet white.

鈥淩ight, so you must have read the stories then?鈥�

I explain once again that I really, really hadn鈥檛 and, if I had done, I would not have been too keen on this two-night stay.

鈥淥K. In that case are you sure you want me to tell you?鈥� he says. I nod.

鈥淭here are lots of ghost stories surrounding the college,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut the main one goes that a fighter jet crashed here, near Sandringham (where I am staying, of course) and all the pilots died.

"They were on their way home from war, desperate to see their wives and girlfriends and the legend is that they now wander the corridors looking for women. Sleeping women. That鈥檚 why I am so genuinely freaked out by what you just told me.鈥�

On site at Constructionariam my story has already reached most people and everyone is chattering about it. Turns out I am literally the only person who didn鈥檛 know about the famous hauntings.

All day, the stories flow. Slamming doors, mysterious screams and shapes, old women sitting at the edge of beds. You name it, according to these guys it had happened within a foot or so of my room.

The winds are howling and the rain is torrential and I cope in the only way I can think of. Four gin and tonics. When I eventually pluck up the courage to go back to my room I am too scared to sleep so instead record a video diary of my experience 鈥� see link 鈥� I feel like Yvette Fielding on Most Haunted. Another scary thought!

I get absolutely no sleep 鈥� not because of late night visits from the airmen but because I refused to turn the TV off. Or the light, my ipod or the alarm clock radio.

So that鈥檚 my story. Three days at NCC and no sleep! You may all laugh but it鈥檚 true what they say. No one in Norfolk can hear you scream.

And if you still don鈥檛 believe me take a look at this鈥�