Blink, and you miss it; where did the summer go?
Kids are back at school, and the holidaymakers are slowly drifting away. Norfolk returns once again to its quiet slumber, and we find ourselves thinking about getting out and about again, looking for a scary encounter or two.
We have a few things lined up for Out There leading up to Halloween. I’m sorry to buck the current trend, but I detest the term “Spooky Season.” I don't know why people insist on using this name. I’m guessing it may be another American import or something that appeared online; everyone just took it up.
Anyways, back to Out There and what we have planned for the next few months. We have some more podcast episodes covering the usual collection of odd topics and scary stories. Two new “Ghost Airfields” episodes are nearing completion, and on October 5th, we are heading to the Wycombe Paracon to chat with like-minded folks and hopefully record some interviews. We also hope to add more content to our Substack for you to enjoy.
In the meantime, here’s something to get your teeth into.
Tales From A Fine City
New experiences are always fun, although I have to confess to a certain amount of trepidation when confronted with one! Recently, I had the pleasure of meeting with Juliette and some of our paranormal pals, Emma, Ed, and Dave. The destination chosen was Soyokaze, a Japanese restaurant on St Giles Street in Norwich.
I had never eaten Japanese food before but was willing to try it, hoping my companions could help me decipher the menu. I’m not alone in not trying Japanese food, as Dave confessed that he was also new to this culinary experience.
With all the hello hugs sorted, we sit comfortably at our table before me; I spy two little wooden sticks neatly arranged over a tiny bowl. Oh my god, chopsticks! I’ve never used chopsticks before, and much to my horror, it appears that my dining companions are all quite expert in handling them! I got a quick lesson on chopstick usage from Juliette. Pouring over the menu, I desperately try to work out which dish will be the easiest to eat with my rudimentary chopstick skills.
It turns out that my chopstick fears were unfounded. I manfully struggled with the bamboo torture objects and worked through a selection of Sushi and a portion of chicken katsu, which were all thoroughly delicious.
After our meal, Emma and Ed, who were visiting from Bristol, wanted to visit a haunted pub, of which there are a few in Norwich. This discussion reminded me of one of our podcast episodes, in which Juliette and I took a stroll looking at a few ghostly tales associated with the fine city of Norwich.
I previously shared the podcast script on our website blog and thought it might be nice to share it again with our Substack friends. I’ve included a link to the podcast episode if you prefer to listen rather than read.
Everyone loves a ghostly tale, and we love to share a story or two. So, where do we go for this episode?
Norfolk has so many classic ghost stories, from the coast in the east to the fens in the west, north to the wash, and south to the pine forests on the Suffolk border. We have scoured our collection of local paranormal publications to discover what delights we could share with you all.
One location looms large over all the others. As you head towards this place, you are greeted by signs that say, “Welcome to Norwich, a fine city.” They are not lying. Norwich is a city steeped in history. With bustling streets full of shoppers, a fabulous cathedral, and an imposing castle, it truly lives up to the description on the signs.
If you search hard, you can find its hidden underside, salubrious tales of murder and mystery, and of course, we would love to share a few with you.
So, where to go first on our spooky little trip around this fine city?
There’s one place with more than a few stories attached to it. So our first stop-off point is Tombland.
Now, without a doubt, Tombland is undoubtedly the most haunted area of Norwich.
The name itself sends shivers down your spine, raising thoughts of mass graves and long-lost souls, desperately crying out in the darkness, searching for their place of eternal rest. The name itself doesn’t mean a “land of tombs”, as you would think. Instead, it’s derived from two Old English words meaning “open ground” or “space”. It was the location of the original Norwich Saxon marketplace many years ago. During these times, the Norwich market was the hub of commercial activity and town life, bustling with busy and noisy stalls full of local produce, such as vegetables, meat and bread. The market also sold many items that were transported to the city by merchant ships and unloaded on the south side of the River Wensum. These ships contained many luxury items such as pottery from the East Midlands, millstones, swords and wine from the Rhineland, furs from Russia, walrus ivory from Scandinavia and fine quality woollen cloth from Flanders.
But the Normans…..who arrived in England in 1066, had their own magnificent plans for the open space of Tombland.
The first bishop of Norwich, Herbert de Losinga, had this grand vision for Tombland. So, a decision was made to move the market to its current location, near the Guildhall. Once the market was relocated, they busily set to work on the open space, creating a vast building site destined to be the home of the beautiful Romanesque cathedral and its associated priory.
Work started in 1096 and took 49 years to complete. To accommodate the cathedral, a small Saxon settlement and two churches were destroyed. The remnants of the former graveyard of one of the churches, St Michael’s, have been rediscovered in Tombland, adding intrigue to the melting pot of haunted tales that have been told for hundreds of years.
Now, we often hear tales of ghostly hauntings—tales of long-lost souls searching for fragments of their past. Tombland has stood in the shadow of the magnificent Norwich Cathedral for almost 900 years. It is said that moving from one side of Tombland to the other is virtually impossible without hearing about a haunted tale or two.
So now that we’ve dipped our toes into the history of Tombland itself let’s take a walk along those well-trodden stone paths. Slowly open the large majestic wooden door and peek into some of the stories about Norwich Cathedral itself. Today, the cathedral oozes architectural magnificence and historical importance, it isn’t simply for bored school children and tea-seeking anoraks, clutching their maps in search of a historic artefact or two. Oh no - something else may well linger within the walls and grounds of this holy place.
It's getting dark across the cathedral grounds, and little pools of light cast by the ornate lamps are scattered about.
Movement catches your eye, and you stare into the darkened gaps between the pools of light.
Is that a figure moving over there? As it drifts nearer, it looks like an area of mist; you can see a woman surrounded by a cloud that hides her feet. She drifts into the darkness again, slowly fading away into nothing.
So, who is this strange lady, and what is her story?
Let's take a little tour back in time to the 13th century, and things are not going so well in Tombland. For many years, the city people had been at odds with the cathedral monks for many reasons, mostly about rights and boundaries.
There have been a series of fights and running skirmishes between the cathedral workers and the city's young men. The monks even killed several citizens. The monks argued that they answered to their justice system and did not abide by city laws as men of God.
Opposite the cathedral stands St George's Church, built as an alternative venue for worship and used by the city folk. The priory men desecrated the church on several occasions.
Feelings were running high, and in August 1272, they came to a head. There had been many quarrels and fights. The word was going around that there would be a major fight at the Tombland fair. On August 7th, a group of priory men left the cathedral grounds and robbed a local merchant. Following the robbery, they entered a local tavern. They drank wine and then refused to pay for it. The innkeeper, powerless to do anything, then watched as the now drunk priory men turned over barrels of beer, laughing and jeering at the poor man, before stumbling back to the cathedral cloisters in a drunken stupor. The bishop discovered what had gone. Fearing reprisals, he ordered the gates to the cathedral grounds to be closed and locked.
It so happens that his fear was well-grounded. The next day, a group of young city men, hearing about the robbery and the incident at the tavern, decided to attempt to force their way into the cathedral grounds. Thwarted by the locked gates, they came up with a different plan. Climbing to the top of St Georges church, they fired incendiary arrows into the cathedral grounds.
Some of these arrows landed on the thatched roofs of buildings inside the grounds, and several fires soon took hold. As the monks and their servants tried extinguishing the flames, a young woman set fire against the cathedral gates. This fire weakened the bolts holding the gates shut. As the gates begin to sag, a mob of city folk charged them using tables taken from the local taverns to batter the gates down. Once inside the grounds, the mob ran riot. They stole gold and silver and set more buildings alight, including the church of St Ethelbert. Some monks were killed trying to stop the mob. After things had calmed down, the bishop contacted Rome. Pope Gregory X issued a papal bull commanding the city authorities to punish those involved. He also decreed that the entire city of Norwich was to be excommunicated from the church.
The city authorities condemned thirty civilians to death. Some were hanged, whilst others were dragged behind horses through the streets of Norwich until they died.
The woman who had set fire to the gate was identified. Her fate was to be tied to a stake in the cathedral grounds and burnt to death in front of a horrified crowd. A fitting punishment for the fire she had set against the gate had enabled the mob to enter the cathedral grounds.
So could our mysterious drifting female figure be an echo of the woman burnt to death on the cathedral grounds? Forever trapped in the place of her death, the penance she pays for burning the gate and letting the mob in?
So many tales are attached to this site, such as a ghostly knight returning to toast his fallen friend or the spirit of an executed priest with a swollen red face and his entrails hanging out. We would be here all night if we told you all the tales. We may return here again. For now, those stories will have to wait.
Leaving the cathedral grounds through the Erpingham gate, you look across Tombland. You are drawn to the strange, crooked house, The rickety Augustine Steward house, leaning to the left.
This comical-looking building, however, has a gruesome tale hidden within its ancient walls. It is to wander across Tombland and walk through Tombland Alley, but keep your eyes open, folks. You may glimpse a small female figure dressed in faded grey rags quietly drifting by. The grey girl is a well-known ghostly apparition with a gruesome tale.
Everyone loves a royal visit, and in 1578, Norwich was blessed with such a visit from Elizabeth I. She arrived with her entourage, but behind all the pageantry lurked a most unwelcome visitor, a gift nobody wanted. For the queen had brought the plague with her, and the good citizens of Norwich were to pay a horrible price.
Between August 1578 and February 1579, 4700 deaths were recorded, but this figure does not include every plague death. The figure was more likely to be around double that amount. In a city with a population of approximately 16000, there are many bodies to dispose of. Norwich was no stranger to the plague, succumbing to the Black DeaDeath'svages in 1349. The bodies piled high back then, and with so many people dying, it became impossible to individually bury the bodies, so hastily dug pits were used, and Tombland began to live up to its name as the pits were opened. The grim task of bringing the bodies here began. We could detail the pits and their locations, but we have ghost stories to tell, so let's return to our next scary tale.
With the death count rising, to try and stop the contagion, the decision was taken to leave the bodies in their houses and seal the building shut. A large red cross was painted on the door to warn people to keep out. The pitmen would return later to take the bodies to the newly reopened plague pits and bury them.
Remember our crooked house? Well, that particular property is known as the Augustine Steward house. In 1578, it was the home of an unfortunate family who fell victim to the plague. The bailiffs came and sealed the house shut, leaving what they thought were the dead bodies of this poor family inside.
After the set time had passed, the pitmen arrived to remove the bodies to bury them in the reopened plague pits. As they dragged out the mother and father, they noticed some strange-looking wounds on the legs of the bodies. On closer inspection, the wounds were found to be bite marks and missing chunks of flesh.
These bite marks were too big to be the work of rats. They looked horribly like human teeth made them. Dragging out the other bodies, they find one body that is a lot fresher than the others: a young girl. The story goes that the pitmen opened her mouth, and to their horror, they found it full of what looked like meat. Had the poor girl choked on the flesh of her dead parents?
In the haste to seal up the house, it appears that they had inadvertently sealed the poor girl inside, still alive.
Imagine the horror of being sealed inside a house with your dead family and then having to resort to eating their plague-ridden bodies to survive.
It’s unsurprising to think that our drifting grey girl may be the ghost of this poor child, her restless soul condemned to wander the vicinity of her family home.
The grey girl has been seen by the occupants of the Augustine Steward house and quite a few of the adjacent buildings. She quietly drifts past, sometimes moving objects and opening doors on her travels. She has also been spotted in St George’s Church—yes, the very same church used to fire burning arrows in our last story.
The Reverend John Mimms recalls seeing this grey figure enter the church through the main doors, silently drift across the back of the church, and then leave through the door leading to Tombland Alley. When we say leaving, she did not open the door, which had been sealed for many years.
It is time for us to leave and make our way to another Norwich landmark: the imposing stone structure on a hill that broods menacingly over the streets of Norwich, keeping watch on the citizens below.
We are heading to the castle, where we have more ghostly tales to share.
Norwich Castle started life as a wooden structure on top of a mound. These early castles, called motte and bailey castles, were built to subdue the local Anglo-Saxon population during the Norman conquest.
Many Saxon houses were pulled down to build the mound and defensive earthworks. The Normans built parts of the castle over a Saxon cemetery to show their disregard for their subjects.
In 1094, work was started on the stone keep and finished in 1121.
Norwich Castle was designed to be a royal palace rather than a fortification. However, no kings or queens have ever lived in it.
In 1345, the castle stood idle, so it was converted into a prison, which remained its function for the next 500 years.
It was during its life as a prison that the more gruesome events took place.
In the ditch around the castle, prisoners were burnt at the stake: Robert Kett, the leader of a local rebellion, was held captive here and hung over the castle walls in a gibbet as a warning that rebelling was not such a grand idea. Public executions in the form of hangings took place between the two gatehouses, drawing large crowds to witness this spectacle.
Surprisingly, the castle and its grounds play host to many restless spirits. These include the ghost of Martha Alden, who was executed here for murdering her husband. Her spirit wanders through the castle art galleries, and there is a strange phantom on the castle grounds with nails through both of his ears.
I like the story of the floating skull that drifts inside the castle, so let's look at that tale.
Meet Robert Goodale, condemned to death for the murder of his unfaithful wife at Walsoken, Norfolk. Goodale was a fifteen-stone giant of a man who worked as a market gardener and farmer. He and his wife would travel to Wisbech each day after work to spend the night. September 16th, he returned to the town alone. His manner caused some suspicion among his friends. When a search of Goodale's farm was carried out, the body of his wife was discovered at the bottom of a well - her skull had been smashed with a blunt instrument.
Goodale was put on trial and found guilty of her murder. He was executed on November 30th, 1885, inside Norwich Castle.
The hangman was James Berry of Bradford, but his calculations went awry. Goodale stood 5’ 11'“ tall and was a heavy man at 15 stone (210 lbs.) with a weak neck. Berry considered that a drop of 5’ 9” could be given. He used a “government rope” that had been used for the hanging of John Williams at Hereford a week earlier.
On the day of the execution, the prisoner was led out to the gallows. Berry strapped Goodale's legs and applied the white hood and the noose. Goodale repeatedly exclaimed, “Oh” God, receive my soul.” Berry released the trap doors as the church clock struck for the eighth time, and Goodale disappeared into the pit.
The official onlookers gasped with horror as the rope rebounded out of the trapdoor, swinging loose. Berry and the prison surgeon looked under the staging of the scaffold; they saw Goodale's body lying there - with his decapitated head, still wearing the execution hood, beside it on the ground.
This incident is the only occasion of a complete decapitation occurring at hanging in England, Scotland and Wales. However, Berry, it seems, had several partial ones!
We will return to Mr Berry’s story in another article.
Of course, you can guess. So the story goes: The floating skull is said to be the restless spirit of poor Robert Goodale, doomed forever to search for his body.
After that horrible tale, I could murder a decent pint, so let’s find a pub and have a drink or two. I know a lovely place nearby, it's called The Lamb Inn. It's not too far from the castle.
In 1757, John Aggis was the Landlord of the Lamb Inn. He enjoyed telling magical stories of mythical creatures to the local children. Word spread about his stories, with people venturing far and wide to listen to his wonderfully descriptive tales.
Now, his brother-in-law was a local chap called Timothy Hardy. Who was known for attracting trouble and always spoiling for a fight. Hardy always carried a knife upon his person and claimed that if he ever left it behind, he would be damned.
On Saturday, November 10th, 1979, Hardy and his wife decided to visit the Lamb Inn and ventured down into the kitchen. John Aggis shortly heard a commotion in the kitchen, shouting and yelling, followed by Hardy pushing his sister aggressively.
Hardy was known to be a violent man and often beat his wife, Aggis’ sister, repeatedly. Aggis entered the kitchen to stop the row between the couple to calm the troubled waters and protect his sister.
At this point, Hardy ceased shouting and offered his hand to Aggis, claiming he did not wish to argue with him but still had a beef with his sister. Aggis, not wanting to aggravate an already hostile environment, stepped forward and held out his hand in friendship. But Hardy’s offer of friendship was not to be trusted. Quick as a flash, he pulled out a knife and plunged it deeply into Aggis’ stomach, ripping the knife three to four inches up his stomach, causing Aggis’ bowels to spill out.
Witnesses present described the horror of the brutal attack and advised that once Hardy had stabbed Aggis, he shouted out at the top of his lungs."I have done for you and were my brother, John Hardy of Lynn, here I would serve him the same, and now, I’ll stab myself, for I know I must die for it. Hardy then made a feeble attempt at stabbing himself, failing miserably.
The witnesses overpowered him and held him hostage until the police arrived, despite the best efforts of the Doctor who came alongside the police. Poor John Aggis writhed about in extreme agony for many hours, sadly dying the following day.
Hardy was immediately arrested and imprisoned at the Castle until his trial by the Assizes. The trial occurred in the summer of the following year. He was sentenced to hang and for his body to be dissected.
Following the murder of poor John Aggis, the Aggis family decided to move away from The Lamb Inn as they found the location simply too distressing a place to remain.
However, strange happenings began almost immediately after they left the Lamb Inn and have been witnessed ever since.
Knocking on bedroom doors and lonely footsteps walking down corridors have been heard, but when investigated immediately - nobody is there!
At the murder scene (the kitchen), unwashed cutlery left out is said to be cleaned and put away by the following day.
A very helpful ghost to have, perhaps?
But the children of later landlords and those who have stayed at the Inn often tell the story of an elderly gentleman being seen. He is said to perch on the foot of their bed and recount spooky ghost stories.
Even today, visitors to the Inn have often asked the landlord who the gentleman is in the courtyard, telling stories.
But when the landlord ventures to investigate, the older man is gone! The elderly gentleman's ghost has also been seen upstairs in the Inn. He was nodding and smiling at people whom he passed on the staircase. He was also seen in a room upstairs, walking through a door at the far end. As guests felt it polite to advise they were leaving, they opened the door, only to discover that the door opened into an empty cupboard! What is interesting in this case, after research, is that the cupboard is a modern addition to the property, and the cupboard doorway initially led to another part of the Inn.
There have been many sightings of this elderly gentleman over the years. Despite the encounters, the Inn cameras fail to pick up any evidence of the ghostly gentleman. Despite the gruesome demise of John Aggis, he wanted to be remembered for his beautiful stories and is certainly not a man who wishes to appear on camera!
You just knew there would be a lovely story attached to the pub. You can always count on me to take you to the best places in town.
I’m guessing you would prefer to go somewhere a little less gruesome.
I know a cosy little pub we can go to for a nice, quiet drink, and it will perfectly finish our wander. We need to return to where we started our journey, next door to the cathedral.
The Adam and Eve pub is a small but rather lovely building. It’s the oldest pub in Norwich, dating back to 1249. At that time, the location was home to a brewhouse that served ale to the workers of Norwich Cathedral, who were paid in ale and bread for their work.
Like all of our tales in this episode, there is history involved. The story goes back to 1549 when the Adam and Eve pub was a central point in an unfolding drama.
Remember Robert Kett?
We mentioned him when we spoke about Norwich Castle. Kett led a rebellion against the Enclosure Act. Marching on Norwich with an army he had raised, Kett made camp on Mousehold Heath and raided Norwich. The king sent Lord Sheffield from London to pit down this upstart rebellion. On August 1st, 1549, Kett and Sheffield came face to face just 100 yards away from The Adam and Eve.
Fighting broke out, and hard-pressed Lord Sheffield could see he would lose. He decided to remove his helmet, hoping that by seeing his face, the rebels would take him prisoner for ransom.
Unfortunately for Sheffield, his plan went horribly wrong. One of the rebels, a butcher named Ffoulks, decided to take a famous scalp. He slashed towards Lord Sheffield with his cleaver. Sheffield fell from his horse and lay there dying on the ground. Seeing their leader fall, the king's army fled the battlefield. Kett and his triumphant army returned to the camp at Mousehold.
Some of the king's men returned to the battlefield and found Lord Sheffield still on the ground, barely alive. They took him to the nearby Adam and Eve and laid him on a table, where his story ends….or does it? Because strange things are going on in the Adam and Eve pub!
People have felt someone tap on their shoulder, turning to find no one. If you lay down small items like car keys or a cigarette lighter, you can leave them for a few moments, look away, and they have just gone—only to reappear a few days later in the same spot. Barmaids have felt unseen fingers run through their hair, tankards swing on their own, and people have felt an icy chill pass through them.
The pub owners believe it’s the ghost of Lord Sheffield playing tricks and making his presence felt. Not only does he haunt the pub, but he is reported to haunt the car park and the area where he was slain.
As for Robert Kett? Well, as you already know, he was captured and met a gruesome end. His capturers hanged him until he was almost dead, coated him in pitch and placed him in a gibbet that was put over the castle wall. It is said that the Crows would have pecked out his eyes before he died!
So there you go, a lovely selection of somewhat gruesome tales from the fine city of Norwich. We never got our drink in the Adam and Eve. It was closed when we arrived, so we ended up in The Wildman instead, another Norwich pub with a strange story to tell. Perhaps we will share that story another time.
If you enjoy our content, please subscribe if you haven’t done so already and share our Substack with your friends and family if you think they might like it.
Take care Out There. You never know what’s hiding in the shadows!