Inspired by another thread on this board, I've been thinking about my experiences of growing up in Glastonbury as a child. I wondered if anyone had any experiences they'd like to share about the town, or about Somerset generally. Here's mine.
I lived in Glastonbury as a child for over 10 years and lived in two houses there. They both had a very dark 'presence' to them, there is no other way to describe it really. In the first house I felt generally uneasy, a near constant sense of being watched. We had a spare room and at the time it was full of junk, you know, toys, cardboard boxes, and paperwork. Normal stuff. Almost every night we would hear what sounded exactly like someone rifling through all our stuff. If you went in there though there was never anything to see, just the noise. It was a very unsettling feeling.
The second house was far creepier. I lived there until I was in my early teens, and several years after moving in that house developed such an intense sense of menace. I have never felt anything like it in any building before or since. It was a big three story town house that had once been divided into two flats (upstairs and downstairs) and a bedsit (attic). When it was converted back to one house the two kitchens remained. So we had a downstairs kitchen that was used normally, and an upstairs kitchen that we used to store old kitchen equipment in.
To me that upstairs kitchen had always had an odd feeling about it, but it was basically fine. Our dozy old Labrador didn't like it though, he would stand on the landing barking at it, hackles up. But we just ignored him. My sister and I used to play in it, but then when I was 10 years old it got some sort of inhabitant. A very powerful angry one. Again, we never saw what it was. Just heard it.
Something in that kitchen started moving pots and pans around. We would hear the noise at night, and sure enough, mum would check and pots and pans had been moved around. It started off like the normal sounds of someone cooking. We thought it was really strange, but a bit amusing to start with, we nicknamed him 'pots and pans man.' But then it particularly seemed to happen when my sister and I were on our own together in the house, she was older than me and would keep an eye on me while mum and dad were out in the evenings occasionally. 'Pots and pans man' got out increasingly out of control, whatever he/it was, kitchen stuff would be thrown around, stuff would hit the walls, plates would be smashed. And someone would scream, like a high pitched piercing scream, like a whooshing in the ears. It was like the kitchen was humming, vibrating, shaking the whole house. We could hear and see everything, but not who/what was causing it. It was like that kitchen became possessed. I never went in it ever again.
After this, the entire house was transformed. Such an awful bad feeling came over the house, I used to experience the most intense instinct to run out of my bedroom, past this awful kitchen, and down the stairs as fast as I could. The whole upstairs became virtually uninhabitable, everything about that house just screamed at us that we had to leave. My whole family felt the same way. We couldn't get out quickly enough after that.
It was easily the most frightening experience of my whole life. And it has made me incredibly wary about houses and buildings in my adult life, I will refuse to set foot anywhere where I don't like the initial vibe. I just googled that house and it came up on right move, there's no pictures of that kitchen, but the pictures of the house alone were enough to make me go cold.
I still can't stand going through Glastonbury now (I haven't lived there since childhood). I find the high street a very dead, soulless place, I always have. It's a place that makes me feel like I need to run.
If anyone has any other experiences of Glastonbury/Somerset I'd love to hear them.