Let me preface this first by saying it’s not things that go bump in the night that concern me, having lived with nocturnally amorous flatmates in yesteryears I’m used to it, but rather it’s the unexplained which unnerves. Whether as a historian or an all-round inquisitive fig, there’s something that really sticks in my craw about things not having a tangible, knowable explanation.
With that in mind, Gem and I decided to book an overnight stay at Bodmin Prison, a night that promised, in the words of the guardian, to be “dead scary”, in the words of the sun “terrifying” and according to a whole slew of reviews on TripAdvisor, “pertaining to real terror”. Yikes.
When we booked this, little did we know what we were letting ourselves in for and that this would prove to be a big one. The After Dark tour we went on was the last of the year, indeed the last before next summer, as the prison is to undergo a refurbishment project, eventually becoming a hotel (!?).
The night promised a three-course meal, a spooky tour, reiki, Ouija and the all things you don’t associate with a ‘nice’ day out with the kids. Brown pants on and fresh from our foray at Dartmoor’s Prison Museum, we set off with foreboding to the Cornish town of Bodmin. The weather, sensing our trepidation, proceeded to precipitate most violently and by the time we arrived, we were soaked through.
A short wander through town, it truly was a remarkable place despite encroaching hypothermia, and we found ourselves looking at a quadrangle with a rather imposing front.
…well half an imposing front.
We entered an astounding dining room and were met by an incredibly welcoming waitress. Perfunctory questions out of the way however, we asked the burning one: “Have you experienced any unusual activity here?”, to which she replied in the affirmative. Spooky. We went to the bar, ordered drinks and sat with the group we’d be spending the next 9 hours with: so far, the only spirits in attendance were Gordons.
The first people we spoke to on the table were on the far right, not politically speaking, and were two young video games developers. Sceptics through and through, they expected an exciting if ‘spiritless’ evening. Sitting next to them, a Derek Acorah stand-in with his own YouTube channel who had hoped to capture ghosts for his audience. With him, his blonde-haired friend cum assistant who seemed a no-nonsense type but very funny. Lastly, there was a very sweet, short middle-aged woman whose face was rarely bereft of a smirk or smile.
Talk instantly turned to whether we were ‘believers’ and what we had expected. There as a 50/50 split down the table but we were all open to listening to and accepting one and others beliefs. Indeed, the smiley woman had claimed to have already captured ghostly phenomenon: each time she tried to take a picture of the portraits in the dining room, the pictures blurred. Now I’m not going to cast aspersions here, but even I’ve been known to blur a selfie and I’m pretty sure there are no ghosts in my 1970’s bathroom.
Soon we were joined by a young couple; a rather excitable gothic looking type with her down to Earth partner. She was an ardent believer, having experienced ghosts before, whereas he seemed unconvinced. From the initial ghost talk we forayed into life, the universe and everything: so far so good. The last to join (it’s sounding a bit like Cluedo now) were two female friends stationed at a military base. One of them had previously been to an event here, saw the medium’s face change during a séance, and decided to bring along her pal to experience (or suffer).
Our band of beautiful misfits complete, food was promptly served. The starter was a rather delicious spiced soup, followed by a chicken and roast potato main and finished with a divine brownie for dessert. Considering mine and Gem’s veritable shopping list of dietary requirements, they catered masterfully to our needs and the food was sub-lime…but I had lime in my gin so I has happy. Dinner was followed by a brief fresh air break in the courtyard.
Cue photo op…
And then back in. Then, the unexpected. Out came the medium, Kirsten Honey, a wild haired, olive skinned, ball of intense entity. She welcomed us briefly to the building and then gave us wavers to sign…gulp. In it, we had to state whether we had any medical issues and that the company was not liable should anything arise, demonic or otherwise. We looked around, wild eyed at each other, but we all signed in the end. One last breather and we were taken round a side passage and into the depths of the prison.
In the semi-dark we fumbled our way to a red lit-room, latterly known as the basecamp. The basecamp contained teas, coffees, seats and a livestream from all the CCTV cameras in the prison.
Kirsten began her health and safety talk, one more akin D&D than HR. The next part I write without levity or maliciousness, but as it was given to us. Kirsten stated hat we live in a universe of entities and higher beings, of things unseen which can touch or interact with us given the right conditions. Not just ghosts and ghouls, but elementals, sprites and malevolent beings. There are also manifestations which grab your balls apparently… Yes, you read that right, there at entities which give you an impromptu testicular screening. Women get a butt grope typically; men get a front row seat at the ballroom. I suppose asking for dinner first would be expecting too much…
Ahem. On with the talk and we were treated to tales of former After Dark adventurers who had experienced the most calamitous of things. A man whose arm began to swell as though suddenly set on fire, a gentleman who was ‘possessed’ and wanted to kill Kirsten and a whole host of, well, people being hosts for the malignant. Whilst this talk was going on, a number of the group saw ‘orbs’ on the CCTV screens superimposed on the wall. Orbs are suggested to be embodiment or remnant of an eldritch creature…they looked incredibly similar to dust motes and moths to me, but I’m no expert.
Supernatural spiel done and we were treated to an in-depth history of the prison: this is where the night really came to life. Since its inauguration in 1779, it has served as a prison, a secret hideaway for the crown jewels in WWII, a casino, a strip club and will latterly become a hotel. Bodmin Jail was both prison and execution site and thousands of people, over the years, bore witness to the final moments of society’s most maligned. The saddest tale we heard was that of Selina Wadge.
Selina was arrested in 1878 for the murder of her youngest son, Henry. She maintained through her trial, that her lover James Wedgewood has forced her to murder him so that they could be ‘free’ to be together. Wedgewood denied this and the jury, seeing that she had looked after the boy well prior to his murder, sued for leniency. The Judge disagreed with their decision and sentenced Salina to death. On the 15th August 1878, she was led from her cell clutching a white handkerchief ans taken to the scaffold: at 8am her body dropped and she breathed no more. It is alleged her spectre still haunts the cells and that she tries to make contact with young children…
Ascending two levels, we ended up in the area considered to be the most haunted in the prison: this is where things got weird. There was something about this crypt grey room, barely lit, which really set everyone on edge. No sooner had Kirsten started to describe the nature and history of this room, that one of the members burst into tears and ran off. I’m happy to say another member of staff quickly went after her and that she was okay. Similarly, the Derek Acorah lookalike started to act really strange: he seemed strangely elated and almost daring the ghosts to mess with him.
We soon made our way back down the stairs to the ‘basecamp’ for a much-needed respite. I sipped coffee thinking about what I’d seen, what others had thought they had seen and what I made of the whole evening. There wasn’t anything inexplicable but the ‘believers’ were certainly convinced. At this point we were allowed to go through the buildings ourselves.
Coir! What a beautiful pair of coconuts
The only shocking thing we witnessed were mannequins from the 70s masquerading as prisoners: alas no ghosts, nor ghouls or otherwise. It was fantastic, however, to look at the exhibits in our own time and to really get a feel for the place. Whilst it was undeniably bleak, it certainly felt like at times a pall were upon us, the stories of its incumbent inmates were utterly fascinating and, aside from the odd building work, everything was practically as it was as when the last inmate left.
The last part of the night was the spiritualism. We attempted trying to ‘feel’ and ‘shape’ energy in our own hands and some of us succeeded, to a greater or lesser extent. I can confirm that my energy is complex and that Gem’s was….non-existent. Latterly we tried Ouija, but either our host ghosts were dyslexic or spoke in a language since lost to time: it was not unlike a cat walking across a keyboard.
The night ended at 5am. All of us were exhausted by this point and had experienced everything from thrill to fear. Some of our group had claimed to have seen spectral figures in their twilight foray, indeed the scream we heard at one point attested to that, but myself and Gem remained much as we were when we went in…and not for want of trying. The evening, however, was undiminished despite our beliefs remaining also and, if anything, the tangible, corporeal form of the building and the real lives of its inmates, impressed upon us more than any other ghost ever could.
Spookiness
👻 👻 👻 👻/5
Education
Value for money
💰 💰 💰 💰 💰/5
Overall
A Spooktacular trip to a remarkable place