12th June 2009

The Legend of the Gypsy's Curse.

When I was a small child many a story of the old rumours of Calne was told around
the fireside drinking cocoa, prior to being tucked into bed.

Many of those stories have passed on down through the family…
Most memorable is the story of the gypsy who used to haunt The Pippin and Broken Cross,
both memorable names to conjecture with.

Prior to the last war it was known the grave had been unearthed containing skeletal rags
and a clothes peg dated 1617.

Something happened, and soon an apparition was seen to walk The Pippin just after midnight.
Those who saw the spectre, remarked that ‘she appeared to glide’, and of a ‘ghostly shimmer’,
that appeared to emanate from the presence.

More over, there were no features only a ragged shawl across the head, presumed to be
that of a gipsy woman who died ‘of the flux’.

She has not been seen for many years, not since the demolition of the C & T Harris Factory.
And it was a closely guarded secret of the time, known only to the few...

Sincerely,
Anonymous.

Instalment 2

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

In 1937 Mrs Aubretia Sewell, a noted psychic medium of that period held a séance to invited guests of ‘The Primrose League’ here in Calne.

It was mutually agreed that the séance would be conducted and witnessed in the upper chamber of Calne Town Hall.

There were approximately 30 guests in evidence (the majority being women).

Mrs Sewell opened the gathering with a short homily, and then relaxed into a trance. All present were instructed to remain quiet and not fidget.
For a short while nothing appeared to have happened, and Aubretia Sewell had not made contact with her Apache ‘guide’…

Suddenly pandemonium ensued. Doors slammed shut through out the building and loud groans were heard. Some women gave witness to ‘astral lights’ circling the group and Mrs Aubretia Sewell was seen to elevate
and levitate for 12 minutes, projecting ectoplasm profusely.

Mrs Sewell appeared to regain her control, calling out to ‘Stone Boulder’’
her spirit guide. There appeared to be an ongoing struggle of wills and the astral periphery.
All appeared lost…

Where upon Mrs Sewell shrieked, and went into a convulsive trance and slid from her chair onto the floor. Sadly she had soiled herself…

Later on being revived with salvolatile, Mrs Aubretia Sewell confessed that she had become possessed of a spectral entity and feared for her very being.

Certain ladies had to be carried from the Town Hall upper chamber, through experiencing what has best been described as unmitigated ‘Terror!’ And the meeting was adjourned. And always spoken
of in hushed tones in retrospect.

Months later when writing her autobiography ‘Seeing is Believing’, Mrs Sewell said that she would never return to Calne due to her chilling experience and astral cathartic nightmare.

But it is interesting to learn and now realize, that the remains of the gypsy’s bones discovered in
The Pippin had been transported in old tea chest and relocated…

To beneath the stage of the Town Hall, but a few yards away of the fateful gathering.

Instalment 3

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

On a cold winters night at Brighton, Mrs Aubretia Sewell took her life by jumping from the pier.
Since those unfortunate hours spent in Calne, her life had gone awry. She had lost her husband
to war and her eldest daughter had disappeared never to be seen again.

Since her experience in Calne, she had been plagued by malaise and her guide‘Stone Boulder’, appeared to have deserted her. She had opened a ‘fortune telling booth’, on Brighton Pier itself.
Lacking her original vibrancy, soon she began to depend on the bottle. Gin was her ruination.

1941 was an inevitable conclusion to one so tragic.

Others who had attended that fateful sitting at the upper rooms of Calne Town Hall, were also
dogged by tragedy. Indeed the very War itself had abetted events. Of those present, three
went to the local asylum. Two went into cloistered orders and several started drinking secretly
with the inevitable out come. Families became wrenched apart. Lives would never be the
same again. Edna G. became an invert poet and moved in with a conscript member of
the ATS at a nearby barracks.

Simon T. had been a shy boy, in light of life’s broad panoply of experience. Now he purchased
a one way ticket for the Marakesh Caravanserai and joined the Tuareg tribesmen and waited
three years to be liberated by the British,  being besieged by  Rommel in the North African Desert.

The local Padre had been consulted, but to no avail. The bones exuded a presence of malevolence, though exorcism was invoked thrice.

But what to do with a potentially awkward and explosive situation in the making?

Dances and recitals were becoming social events for the outlying troops and airmen within the out reaches of the Calne locale. And all held in the upper rooms of the Town Hall itself.
Still holding the fiendish presence of the gypsy’s bones, stored beneath the stage.

One dark night , a meeting was arranged and anonymous figures gathered to discuss the ongoing
threat of ‘The Gypsy’s Curse!’  Destiny had answered the call…

(to be continued).

Instalment 4

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

During the middle part of World War 11, Calne had undergone a change from being a small market town, to becoming an active contributor to the cause with volunteers going into combat and the mobilization of the war machine.

Many a time when soldiers from oversears spent social time here. The ANZAC’s, the US GI’s
and our own conscripted youth and the various branches of the services.

Calne Town Hall was a special place to ‘meet the girl of your dreams’. And Wiltshire girls
were reknown for their looks…A wartime ditty regarding ‘Tears on the old gray steps’,
was a favourite to many.

The chanteuse Laura Avalon, made her debut here in September 1943.

The venue was all very well, but there were observations and many remarked on’a presence’,
quite indeterminate toward the stage area.

Cups and cutlery became mislaid, appearing else where in the building.
Some one or ‘some thing’, appeared to regularly disturb the blackout
curtains. Often the toilets would give trouble and always the lights would flicker and go out
when the patrons were dancing…On at least ten occasions the dancers were plunged
into darkness amid shrieks, as ethereal lights appeared. Later described as to having an affinity and similarity to St Elmo’s Fire…

Archdeacon Coulter was invited for a consultation, and after a hasty exorcism of the premises deduced that he saw the whole episode as ‘alchohol induced hysteria’.

The Mayor’s Chamber was on the ground floor, directly below the stage area of the upper room..
This too, reported unusual phenomena during meetings of the aldermen. A decanter was seen
to rise from a table by some 15inches, and then smash into the wall close to the original
Victorian wall paper. Other incidents were known, but kept secret to avert panic.

There were those who knew, and those who chose ‘not to know’…

(to be continued).

Instalment 4

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

During the middle part of World War 11, Calne had undergone a change from being a small market town, to becoming an active contributor to the cause with volunteers going into combat and the mobilization of the war machine.

Many a time when soldiers from oversears spent social time here. The ANZAC’s, the US GI’s
and our own conscripted youth and the various branches of the services.

Calne Town Hall was a special place to ‘meet the girl of your dreams’. And Wiltshire girls
were reknown for their looks…A wartime ditty regarding ‘Tears on the old gray steps’,
was a favourite to many.

The chanteuse Laura Avalon, made her debut here in September 1943.

The venue was all very well, but there were observations and many remarked on’a presence’,
quite indeterminate toward the stage area.

Cups and cutlery became mislaid, appearing else where in the building.
Some one or ‘some thing’, appeared to regularly disturb the blackout
curtains. Often the toilets would give trouble and always the lights would flicker and go out
when the patrons were dancing…On at least ten occasions the dancers were plunged
into darkness amid shrieks, as ethereal lights appeared. Later described as to having an affinity and similarity to St Elmo’s Fire…

Archdeacon Coulter was invited for a consultation, and after a hasty exorcism of the premises deduced that he saw the whole episode as ‘alchohol induced hysteria’.

The Mayor’s Chamber was on the ground floor, directly below the stage area of the upper room..
This too, reported unusual phenomena during meetings of the aldermen. A decanter was seen
to rise from a table by some 15inches, and then smash into the wall close to the original
Victorian wall paper. Other incidents were known, but kept secret to avert panic.

There were those who knew, and those who chose ‘not to know’…

(to be continued).

Instalment 5

During the middle part of World War 11, Calne had undergone a change from being
a small market town, to becoming an active contributor to the cause with volunteers
going into combat and the mobilization of the war machine.

Many a time when soldiers from oversears spent social time here. The ANZAC’s, the US GI’s
and our own conscripted youth and the various branches of the services.

Calne Town Hall was a special place to ‘meet the girl of your dreams’.
And Wiltshire girls were reknown for their looks…A wartime ditty
 regarding ‘Tears on the old gray steps’, was a favourite to many.

The chanteuse Laura Avalon, made her debut here in September 1943.

The venue was all very well, but there were observations and many remarked on’a presence’,
quite indeterminate toward the stage area.

Cups and cutlery became mislaid, appearing else where in the building.
Some one or ‘some thing’, appeared to regularly disturb the blackout
curtains. Often the toilets would give trouble and always the lights would flicker and go out when the patrons were dancing…On at least ten occasions
the dancers were plunged into darkness amid shrieks, as ethereal lights appeared. Later described as to having an affinity and similarity to St Elmo’s
Fire…

Archdeacon Coulter was invited for a consultation, and after a hasty exorcism of the premises deduced that he saw the whole episode as
‘alchohol induced hysteria’.

The Mayor’s Chamber was on the ground floor, directly below the stage area of the upper room..
This too, reported unusual phenomena during
meetings of the aldermen. A decanter was seen to rise from a table by some 15inches, and then smash into the wall close to the original Victorian wall paper. Other incidents were known, but kept secret to avert panic.

There were those who knew, and those who chose ‘not to know’…

(to be continued).

Instalment 6

The Gypsy’s Curse  (continued)

Sister Blanch Hozen-Pugh had trained in the Dardanelles during the Great War. She had headed up the First Aid Department of C & T Harris for some seven years. There were three in her team of assistants dealing with cuts and bruises. And sometimes the inevitable maiming and death.

The bones in the cellar had been brought to her notice by a factory hand.

Sister Hozen-Pugh notified the County Coroner…

After delivering his verdict, he stated that he believed no foul play had taken place. But it was hard to determine some observations, as there was no head.

In his estimation these were very old bones. Those of a woman who had at least one child, by ascertaining the pelvis. The legs, particularly the femurs were bowed indicating malnutrition.
And there was a gold ring on the third finger of the left hand. They may have seized the skull,
but overlooked a most beautiful Medieval friendship ring set with red stones.

No information was divulged to the newspapers, those involved were sworn to oath.

It was decided to return the bones in a new meat crate lined with sawdust, to the repose
of the C & T Harris cellar. Here it dwelt amongst the stacked bacon sides and machinery
no longer called to use.

Sister Hozen-Pugh saved the gold ring ‘for safe keeping’. Within three months on excursion,
she hit a deer near Spye Park and perished…

For many a year the cellers remained in peace, although upstairs the various departments
were experiencing crisis.

The tentacles of the gypsies curse were tightening their grip…

(to be continued).

 

Instalment 7

The Gypsy’s  Curse  (continued).

It was 1953, the year of Queen Elizabeth 2nd Coronation.

All of London anticipated the event and approaching ceremonials.

Not so in the Balls Ponds Road, some where else in London.

Consuelo D’anjou claimed descent from the Royal Houses of France.
She was getting to the end of an exploitative life of servicing the rich and decadent over a quarterly stretch of the century. A wasted life…

She had claimed to have ‘known everyone, who was anyone.’
She had known Wallis Simpson in Shanghai, and shown her the ways to a man’s heart with the delights of cocaine.

Her antique ring had been purchased by a long forgotten lover on a motoring holiday in Wiltshire. From a small jewellers shop in a small market town. Connie found it difficult to pronounce ‘Calne.’

The ring accompanied her descent and physical decline. It was her token of luck, and memories of hedonism and decadent filth. Best forgotten by an mature lady. But Connie was never a lady, she always had an insatiable sexual appetite for ‘the physical’ – and cocaine.

She first met the immoral Heinrich Schling at Cliveden on a weekend house
party. He became her pimp. He put her on the passage to Hell.

Heinrich counted the money, and Connie ‘took home the bacon’ – it was their little joke. Connie had a ‘good war’ pounding the beat around Grosvenor Square. She had always liked American Servicemen, they liked her sultry looks and unspoken promise.

But sometimes a person can see and experience too much, so close to the flame. Some times there is no hope of redemption.

Connie had degenerated from a lovely beautiful woman, to a raddled old
bag. Smelling of cheap cigarettes, sweat and a hint of opium and the addition of cat litter.

Connie was still in love. Still in love with herself...

Gerald ‘Gerry’ Macy, was her find. Formerly a garage mechanic and only
nineteen, he fulfilled her needs. They moved in together to’The Balls Ponds
Road’. Connie had taken ‘Pip, Squeak and Wilfred’ her three feral cats…

Living in rented rooms with one gas fire and three cats is not idyllic.
Within three months there were squabbles and invective. And Connie
had the talent to swear like a trooper, and strip away a man’s self esteem to nothing…

The romance was over. Whatever it was, was truly over but Gerry had no where to go. He was potentially homeless.

He had got tired of Connie’s stories of conquest and ‘amour’. And of the beautiful and elegant people she had rubbed shoulders with, and all else…

One evening Connie took her medicinal opium, she looked like a very faded ‘flapper’, in her black silk Kimono, as she sashayed amid her lair and the smell of cats was over powering. Gerry never liked the cats.

Gerry had gone out with the boys (and girls), and had enjoyed a pub crawling night. He was in no hurry to return to ‘the old girl’ and someone more appealing was having an impact on his instincts…

We will never be certain of the details that happened that tumultuous
night, other than Consuela D’anjou was murdered by ‘persons unknown’.

It was determined by Police Forensics that she lay on the floor of her rented rooms for at least one week, the gas fire being alight for all of that time…

The cats had not been fed, so they turned to their mistress for nourishment and so too the flies...

Connie had been strangled, and then repeatedly bludgeoned with an antique Baccarat Crystal paper weight. The paper weight had always stood on the night stand, and it had been stolen from Fort Belvedere by Connie. To spite Wallis Simpson.

Gerry Macey was never found, and the file is still open at New Scotland Yard…

But what of ‘Consuela D’anjou’?
The name and true identity of this personage was never fully established, there was no legitimate record. She was buried at Honor Oak Cemetery in London, escorted by no mourners.

The gypsy’s ruby ring was buried with her. The ring fitted her finger so tight
it appeared to have become part of her.

The ring returned to the grave ‘from whence it came’.

During the early thirties ‘Consuela D’anjou’ had been escorted to Cliveden, home
of the Astor family. She was introduced to Lady Nancy Astor, who remarked
later ‘she reminds me of cat meat…’ A feline prophetic remark.  

To be continued

 

Installment 8

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

The Gypsy’s skull was sold for ten shillings…

It was never lost; it had been deposited in ‘The Mayor’s Parlour’ soaking
in an old enamelled bucket containing toilet bleach. Within the precincts of Calne Town Hall.
And it was the drunken janitor who was the culprit.

He thought the skull washed up good ‘as new’. It certainly took on a radical transformation.
It was his daughter who had suggested that he give it ‘a good clean’, before he put it next
to the fruit bowl on the sideboard.

Now it gleamed startlingly white, almost luminous at night when he came down stairs to
check the grate.

But it gave him the creeps, and he knew he could hear whispers when he was resting in
his bedroom at night. He was a widower, who could he share his conscience to? And he
was drinking more; he had gone from beer to whisky for comfort and consolation.

Who was the shrouded figure at the end of his bed, pointing at him with an outstretched
accusing right arm? What were the dancing blue lights that would appear and then disappear.
Only to reappear when least expected, and then on awakening from troubled dreams

He arranged to meet ‘Wally’ at ‘The Butchers Arms’ and over a whisky, sold the
‘severed head’ for ‘ten bob’

After the transaction, Wally cycled up Church Street to the Doctor’s in South Place in
London Road, and resold the gleaming skull – for a ‘fiver’

He claimed he had found it in Ypre, while locked in combat; He cleaned it up to make it more presentable. The Doctor being an intelligent man did not believe the story, but there was a morbid quality to the yarn.

Soon South Place was plagued with banging’s and moans and a ‘presence’.

And it had nothing to do with the Patients – things were turning becoming unhealthy on
a different dimension.

To be continued.

 

Installment 9

The Gypsy’s Curse  (continued).

Long ago, the shoes had been undeniably lovely.

Made of black quality leather, silver buckles and colored raised heels that would have been familiar at Court in the capital of London.

The Corporation had determined in the early 1930’s that a new gas pipe be laid in ‘The Pippin’, in Calne. Thereby the accidental exhumation of a secret
came to light…And not on consecrated ground.

Prior to the discovery, The Pippin had been a dreary locale where folk hurried home after dark, not wishing to linger. And this was when few houses were in evidence.

Various items had been uncovered with the retrieval of the body – there had been no coffin, although the shoes were not mouldy.

It was presumed that the gold guinea that was found, had been placed in the mouth of the recipient to ‘help her over’.

It was stolen by a workman, who later stabbed his partner and was duly convicted and hanged by the Assizes sitting at Devizes. Those who were involved with the disturbance
of the body, were plagued by terrible dreams as though they were being stalked…

A parchment was found, rolled inside of what appeared to be a lead pipe but decorated with scratched symbols of an unknown source.

Witchcraft was whispered, so it was best thought to keep events quiet from the Calne town’s people. God fearing Protestant stock, including the Baptists and the Methodists.

But a malaise had been unleashed amid the town, a certain uneasiness that was not just the political events of the time.

Two women had gassed themselves. Another had drowned in the River Marden. And a Calne family had drowned in a boating accident at Bowood Estate. Many coincidental accidents had taken place, a ‘cluster’ of circumstance resulting in tragedy.

There are faded photographs of the shoes that I gave mention of, but they have been eradicated by time. And so it was the Gypsy’s bones were secreted beneath the
Town Hall stage. It would have been better to have reburied them in sanctified
hallowed ground – but they didn’t…

To be continued.

 

Installment 10

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

The foreman wore a bowler hat, and wielded an iron rod.

He hired and fired those who worked under his direction; they bribed him with cigarettes
and chocolate. Many were dependent on the work in order to put ‘bread on the table.’

He was a loathsome man in appearance and in his habits. He was a pig.

The excavation for the gas pipe in The Pippin had been hard graft for the eight laborers.
Amid torrential rain they had been coerced to wield their picks and shovels, while
a relentless taskmaster chain smoked and barked criticism.

He got first viewing of the grave when it became obvious that some thing had been discovered.
His greed reminded him of the Egyptian mummy that had only been recently discovered at Luxor.
The dirty lead pipe, appeared to be the only physical thing of value or promise – but he ordered the rest of the laboring team to ‘bugger off’, so he could scour for other pickings. But stupid people are blind, and greed makes them desperate.

He took the piece pipe back to his house in Shelburne Road. His wife had left him
years before and taken the children, to a long suffering sweetheart.

He thought that the pipe was of solid silver, he had scratched and the shining surface
had released greedy thoughts. He soon realized the 16inch pipe was hollow –
there was something inside, and he thought of jewels…

He got out an old hacksaw, and attempted to saw off the end piece on the kitchen table
amidst dirty cups and plates. He was wearing only his combinations, his clothes having
soaked in the rain.

The end of the pipe broke off to his delight and glee. There were no jewels…

On close inspection he could see a scroll of paper inside, which he attempted to retrieve
with dirty nicotine fingers. The paper came to light, and a small rolled faded bouquet of
flowers came with it…

He looked at the scroll, and spread it out on the table next to the hacksaw.
It was strange writing that he had never seen before, but he was illiterate anyway so there
was nothing gained by either parties.
He was getting angry, the suspense and anticipation had come to nothing.The pipe was
made of lead. In mounting anger he threw the pipe against the scullery wall, and smashed
‘The Monarch of the Glen’ He roared as he threw the in scripted paper into the grate,
but delayed in destroying the antique bouquet. Curiously he took this to his nostrils
and inhaled deeply…

Sleeping in his chair he was goaded by troublesome dreams, of wealth beyond Croesus.
He stirred and awoke and strong convictions guided him.
He was going out into the night; he was going to The Pippin.

The church clock struck 3am, as he walked down London Road, wearing his bowler hat,
carrying his umbrella, striding in his hobnail boots. He was not wearing his day clothes,
only his combinations. He was in another world counting golden guineas…

He progressed toward ‘The White Hart’, crossed over to ‘The Green’ past
‘The Green Dragon’, umbrella held high while the rain beat down.

He did not look threatening nor sinister, but more like Oliver Hardy on a very bad day…

Down ‘Proclamation Steps’, into ‘Mill Street’, and his hobnail boots sounded very loud...
He crossed ‘Doctor’s Pond’, and soon made his destination. Dawn was but an hour
away, but he found the trench and he cursed the ‘lazy bastards’, for leaving their picks
and shovels on view.

He started to dig, still wearing his combinations. He knew that he had seen a gold guinea,
and there had to be more. There just had to be…

Two Slaughter House Butchers going in for ‘The early morning kill,’ discovered the
demented fool digging in mud almost up to his neck. They probably saved his life.

The Doctor was called, and realized the inevitable procedure. It was a matter for
The County Asylum at Devizes. He never came out.

No one said anything because there was nothing to say. The man had been loathed
and feared. And he had left his bowler hat in the same trench that they had
found the gypsy’s body.

And the gypsy's body was ‘in storage’.

To be continued..

 

Installment 11

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

He unearthed the skull from the Compton Bassett rubbish tip one summer evening.
He went to the ‘dump’, to avoid the atmospheres at home. It was by way of escapism.

He had made many ‘finds’ amidst the filth and garbage, and often he was laden down
with ‘goodies’ as he trekked the return journey down the old
‘Abberd Lane’. The curious had always wanted to know what he had actually found,
he saw no reason to tell…

But this night was different.

He was fourteen years of age, and the future was uncertain but boundless.

Taking the skull home, of a dark night was an imaginative nightmare.
Each bird that fluttered in a tree, eack owl that called added drama to the experience.
Foxes barked and rabbits screamed, added to which cows lowed close.
Abberd Lane had never appeared such a lengthy distance to his home.

He took his black bin liner to the adjacent wash house, close to the kitchen.
He carefully unwrapped his prize and studied the skull closely. There was no jawbone, that had gone. And there were few teeth on display, but obviously it was very old. He felt a thrill to realize he was handling human remains, but who was it? What had they done? And how did they die? He decided it was better not to involve both of his parents.

That night he managed to smuggle the skull, past his parents who were in the kitchen.
Go up to his small bedroom to the left of the landing, and quickly stash his prize
beneath his bed. Then he went down to his mother’s call to supper,
and watched television.

That night he had unsettling dreams, as though someone was calling him from a long distance. He remembered the dream on awakening, and thought about events all day in class. But he told no one.

The following night the disturbance continued. He said a prayer for help and direction. On awakening the following morning he knew what he was going to do…

Father Gallagher was the resident Priest for St Edmund’s Roman Catholic Church
in Calne. And was one of the most approachable men that had ever walked.
He should have been the Pope.

He listened to the boy and to what he had to tell. And knew full well that this boy had been an altar server and who had a respect for solemn religious rites.

The priest decided to anoint the skull with Chrism Oil, and outlined the procedure.
The boy listened intently, and made the required responses.

They then went into the church, before the altar. The priest dressed appropriately and began to invoke…

The boy’s face was impressed with what the priest had to say, and it lasted all 15 minutes. The priest said ‘Good bye, and I expect to see you at Mass this Sunday’ – It was a deal.

As he walked away from the altar the boy’ attention was drawn to movement above the church pews. It was a butterfly circling, a ’Tortoiseshell’ butterfly.
It dipped and soared, and it had not been there before.

The boy smiled, and knew that everything was well.

There was never any more trouble.

The boy kept the skull on his bookcase in his bedroom next to his records.
Many offered to buy it just to play a prank on others, his father exhausted
all of the ‘Hamlet’ jokes…And all of his friends wanted to come and see his
‘Charley’, as the family decided to call it.

The priest had requested that the boy pray for the soul that had inhabited the skull,
and this was done as was promised.

A School Teacher approached the boy to loan the skull, for ‘just a short while’.
He complied and was never to see it ever again.

In retrospect, he hoped that Mr Breddie had taken up praying for the skull in his absence.

He would hate to think of the teacher being plagued by nightmares...

To be continued.

 

Installment 12

The Gypsy’s Curse (continued).

The crate containing the gypsy’s bones had been delivered as a joke, along with
pallet boards to Bill Trembling’s allotment in Cop Croft. A few yards from the Pippin.
It had not traveled far in sixty years, but it had left a trail of havoc.

It had been discovered in one of the old cellars of the C& T Harris,
prior to closure in 1983 and the demolition in the 1984.
No one knew what they were, those who did had died.
(Click for history of Calne.)
http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=18036
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calne
(will open new window)

So one wag suggested they drive them to ‘old Bill’ for a laugh…
So they did and dumped all of the cargo next to Bill’s shed,
a retreat for a ‘smoke', and raising onions.

At night, those passing Cop Croft could see darting blue lights and hurried on their way.
The more imaginative claimed to have seen a figure moving about all of the allotments.
The allotments were extensive in Cop Croft.
Bill was oblivious to any external presence, a good man with peace of mind.

Notice came that the ‘Authorities’, were going to erect a large car park on the site of the allotments. There was outrage. There had been a document at
County Hall giving the allotments in perpetuity to the Calne Town’s people.
Now it had disappeared, there was no proof of ownership. Those who knew kept silent. And around about the same time, The Royal Charter from
James 11 exhibited in the upstairs room of the Town Hall went missing.

Those with allotments were grudgingly compensated, but it was too late for poor old Bill who had died and his shed was left derelict. But the bones were still in the shed stored in a sack with some moldy old onions…

Were it not for the expertise of some marauding children, Sainsbury’s Supermarket would be badly haunted. Particularly the ‘Cold Meats Section’.

The small boys of about 13years and no more, used Bill’s shed as their den.
Here they would gather, to plot and smoke their father’s stolen cigarettes.
And the occasional bottle of beer was much appreciated by all.

The pallet boards had never been used for fencing, but they did cover the sack that contained human bones – minus the head.

It led to intrigue with all of the boys. One suggested a secret murder, the wife’s body kept in the allotment. The head detached to save on identification. There is always a ‘know all’, and he said what were they going to do with the body?

They realized they could not involve the Police; this would raise questions and bring in the attention of their parents. They knew what they were about…

The solution was simple. Before the earth clearing had started at the allotment, three small boys would have been seen advancing towards
‘Piggy Lane’ one dark night. They were carrying a sack, which was comparatively light.

Walking toward Piggy Lane up the Pippin, they knew what they were going to do. It was premeditated and they all sensed they were accompanied. They were wary of prying eyes and their senses were heightened.

They tipped the sack contents over the graveyard wall of ‘Zion Chapel’,
and beat a hasty retreat. They reasoned that some one would find the bones,
and bury them in ‘hallowed ground’.

The gardener found the bones, and had a sense of humor and interred them in the
soil beneath the compost heap. They were obviously ancient and he over looked
the mislaid skull; otherwise he would have been alarmed.

And so the Gypsy rested in peace, and she had waited a long while.

To be continued.

Installment 13

The Gypsy’s Curse (epilogue)

July 2009.

Since collating and researching the material received, regarding
‘The Gypsy’s Curse’, a few things have gone wrong for us.
The computer had a power surge, the phone line
went down and it has been beating down with rain.
 It started on St Swithins’Day.

"St. Swithin's Day, if thou dost rain,
For 40 days it will remain;
St. Swithin's Day, if thou be fair,
For 40 days will rain nea mair."
Anon and traditional.

There have been disturbances at the graveyard
of Zion Chapel (after Mount Zion in The Bible).
regarding to subsequent developments.
The Yew Trees have been cut down
after years of vigilance
to find out more a more Zion Chapel
http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=18044
as we do not have forum there is very good one at Calne Talk
any wishing to coment on this article please use link below
http://calnetalk.myfreeforum.org/forum11.php

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The Yew Trees warded off bad spirits in traditional times.

Yew
Yew is the Wood of Death. Used for its strength
for bows in Greek times. The yew tree is held sacred
by the Druids because of its symbolism of death and
rebirth. The yew tree's branches grow into the ground.
Thus when the central trunk dies, the tree lives
on as the branches become trees. It symbolizes
transformation, great age, and reincarnation.
Yew wood is good in any rituals that use the
preceding symbolism. Yew holds and conducts
energy very well, and yew is a good shield for
magical energies that directly hit the wood
is reflected.
Yew's personality is Enduring/sanguine is opposite
(Click link find about trees) http://www.inspiredofspirit.com/joomla/index.php?
option=com_content&task=view&id=39

The grass has been cleared and the topsoil removed, and bones uncovered. An Archaeologist was called in, black sheets erected while diggings were undertaken.

 

What will be the passage and consequential
events to follow?

 

Interview with Mrs Esme Spiggott.

Following the revelations of ‘The Gypsy’s Curse’, we have been contacted with the information below.

It was the lady’s grandson who informed us that some further details could be outlined by a most charming lady of 82 years.

Mrs Esme Spiggott, is a lively lady for her years and had much to tell. Not all of which can be included here. Over tea ands biscuits at her comfortable home in Oxford Road, Calne she elaborated.

It appears that her father was one of the labourers who made the discovery of the Romany Grave in The Pippin, in Calne during the mid 1930’s.
It appears that the site was photographed by ‘Edgar Gross’ the resident Calne Photographer of that time. And Esme Spiggott has possibly the only surviving photograph to prove the case in point.

Her father had various items stored in the attic of the domestic home.
Where upon her brother Harold Angell, discovered a tin box during the house clearance following the death of their father, leaving various items of interest.

Esme cannot remember the full details, only as to what was handed down to her. But she showed us the photograph, with the pencil inscription on the back, and we were readily impressed.

The two rings we have photographed were also with the photograph, but as to a connection we really do not know. It can only be supposition, but it is true to say that they are very old.

Mrs Spiggott had never liked them, and neither does any of her family.
No one living has ever appeared to have worn them…

But our sincere thanks to Emily Spiggott for an edifying and most welcome

afternoon at her home, on an otherwise rainy day.

Small detail of original photograph Digitally cleaned up.

 

 

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