2025 Review, & Onwards, to 2026!

Well, another twelve months has zoomed by despite the feeling that it should still be somewhere around September, in my head at least. So what's going on?

Well, frankly, the world is in human-led chaos thanks to the rusty-coloured monumental nut-job psychopath in charge of the USA (who apparently thinks he owns the whole of the world and can do whatever he wants, regardless of international law or indeed, morality), and there's wars all over the place. But on the plus side, EVP has been great, and finally, FINALLY, my book is with the publishers! It's rather an expensive business getting a book out there though, and so it's having to be completed in stages which isn't ideal, but at least it's in the pipeline. The cover is done and half paid for, now the interior meddling is underway. I am genuinely excited by what may be produced, but also dreading finding those little niggling errors that tend to creep into my work even though I've gone over the chapters again and again. We shall see! But moreover, positive memories of the lightning speed year of 2025 are glimmering, for despite life melting away, there were definite highlights.

Last month my Shepton Mallet prison friends and I hired the site for New Year's Eve, just the ten of us. Myself and Jack, Michele and her cousin Geri, Chris and partner Emma, Luke, Phil, Dave and Mark. We had great hopes of our twelve hours and for nearly a year we've been plotting and planning, getting rather excited. I was for some reason, I found myself in charge of booking it all and sorting the insurance etc, probably because it was my idea and I offered to do it. I don't know why because I hate dealing with money, especially other people's, but everyone (barring one person) was fantastic at getting the final payments in well in time to get our night secured. The one person who bailed (and shall never be trusted and from whom we never heard again) was not missed one iota because we had a feeling that they were planning to 'do a runner' because we'd heard nothing at all since the summer. It was their plan to pay in installments to break up the cost, so we were suspicious when absolutely nothing came through, nor did they engage in any of our online chats. I messaged this person multiple times privately , hinting in a jovial way that perhaps it might be an idead to get a few quid laid out ready to go. And yet, not a peep. They would occasionally breeze into the group chat as if searching for something, accidentally post something then go again. A few weeks prior to the event itself when we had all except this person, paid up - I closed the group chat and reopened a new one for those of us who were actually going and were all paid-up. Said person saw that they had been removed (as had everyone, one by one as they signed off what was due), and I had posted a note saying that once paid up we'd all be in the new chat, a bit like passing 'Go' and moving on. Said person apparently saw this had a hissy fit. Myself and Chris found ourselves deleted and blocked on Facebook, but I suddenly had a horrible feeling that maybe something bad had happened, so checked out this person's Instagram. There they were! A few hours later I was also blocked from that. And you know what? Who cares. I can hold a grudge pretty much forever when it comes to rude and pathetic behaviour from a grown adult whom we all trusted. Changed your mind about coming? Just say. But no. I had a gut feeling that this might happen and as such, this person was replaced well in advance of the deadline which was great, because then we could all relax and know that we were amongst trusted and worthy friends for our jailtime stint, not someone who wanted to cause problems to get some weird kick.

When the night came, it was ferociously cold. We all trundled on through into Visits where lovely Jo, my ex-colleague, played host and basically let us loose. The cell I chose for my bedroom was B2,16 - and it was the third time I had attempted sleep within its damp walls but not for several years. I considered popping up a level to Neil's cell (Neil Bracey was a murderer from Neath, who took his own life in 2010 in B3,16, and I have had some ever so strong EVP from his cell), but it was filthy, and so to save my lungs from black mould I opted for my usual cell, nicknamed 'Sam's Cell'. If you've heard my 'Sam saga' captures, you'll know where I mean.

I rigged up my fairy lights and set my enormous zillion-kilo suitcase on the floor. It was filled with tripods, multiple camcorders, chargers, leads, voice recorders, speakers, and many other gadgets. Gadgets that, I hasten to add, never even came out of their boxes during our hire night. Such is life. I always bring way too much stuff.

Bringing said suitcase into BW and up the stairs was tough enough! I had on Jack's really thick and overly large winter coat, gloves and hat - and by the time I made it to my cell with bedding too, I was dripping sweat. We had the traditional group photo in Visits, used our timetable and plan of the buildings to see who was going where and when, and off we went!

As the night progressed it became even colder, and the sweat that had adorned my body during my physical exertions turned cold. Back to the hat with the fluffy ear flaps it was, and I was thankful for the leggings under my trousers. By 11.45pm, it was well below zero. We met in BW for a little musical soiree in which I played a compilation I had put together. Everyone gave me a song or piece of music that meant something to them, and I took a twenty second chunk from each and spliced them together, bookended by Auld Lang Syne. The musical choices were diverse, but I bet the ghosts enjoyed them! On the wing though, the effect was less emotional or meaningful than I had hoped, and everyone barring myself, Michele and Gerri sort of stood looking uneasy and not sure what we were doing there. Not to worry, for we upped and left for the yard with one minute to spare before midnight. I put flowers on our late friend Emma's bench, in the yard.

We counted down, then as the new year flew in, hugged each other on the ice. The yard was white with a lethal covering, and strangely the sky was a light brown colour that threatened to break with real moonshine. But it didn't. It remained thickly clouded but light, giving our group photo by the governor's railings an ethereal quality. The fireworks went off but we saw nothing because of the cloud, so that was that, and off we all went again.

At 12.30am I headed to CW for my hour session where I did my usual. Jack, Chris, Emma and Luke were supposed to join me with the ouija board at 1.30am, but to be honest I was SO cold and tired by that point that it was all I could do to see out my hour. Somehow all my buzz and excitement had vanished, and I was actually bored. Thus, I retreated to my cell for an hour and a half's intended sleep. Except that didn't work either, for despite my roll mat, hot water bottle and winter duvet, I was utterly frozen. I kept the coat and hat on, but even so, I could feel the metal slats of the bed frame seeping their chill through the layers and into me. Still feeling really sleepy, gritty eyed and numb, I set my alarm for another two hours, hoping to get some relief. It was -4 degrees, and I could hear Jack snoring through the wall.

At around 3.45am I reluctantly concurred with my bladder that I did indeed need to use the loo, and the loo was in Visits. This meant getting out of my hideous bed and putting my boots back on, trekking through the prison to the hallowed warmth of the loos. When I got there, I was surprised to see Michele also on the same mission, and even more surprised to see her perky and chatty! I refilled my hot water bottle, and slunk back to my cell for just half an hour before I couldn't stand it any more, and messaged Jack who was in B2,15. We were homeward bound.

We all left the prison bang-on 5am, and actually it was good to tell lovely Jo that she could pack up and go home several hours early, too! We were supposed to have been on site from 8pm to 8am, but only managed a rather paltry 8pm to 5am. I felt gutted, but it was on my head.

The night/morning seemed to have passed way too quickly, with very little actually having been achieved, from my stance at least. Yes I recorded, but for only one hour more than I normally would on a regular session on a Sunday morning! My plans to go everywhere, to get into places that I normally wouldn't, to spend time in the oakham sheds and up in A3, all came to nothing. What an absolute waste of time - not the hire, but I willingly gave up those precious hours because I was too weak to carry on. Once the chill had set in and the tiredness made me numb, there was no way that I could have got out of bed and started my recording sessions afresh. The cold did me in and I am so angry with myself.

The others (Jack, Michele, Gerri, Chris and Emma) seemed to have successful sessions though, and that's great. Dave, Mark, Phil an Luke left at 2am sadly, as they were not getting anything at all and they felt rather let down, so all-in-all, I would have to question whether or not I would hire overnight again. We'll see, but maybe not in mid-winter!

EVP was good though, and I got to use my theramin which although didn't 'get used' as I had hoped in the sense of it being a proximity-sensitive device, but it seemed to generate very good clear voices. They seemed intrigued, and I wonder if the crazy frequencies buzzing around the gate lodge that night somehow revved activity. I managed 48 captures pre-midnight, and a sorry 8 in CW, after. And that was that.

Other plus-side events of 2025 included my successful presentation in April at the prison, and getting on the radio with Jack. In retrospect, it was something I shouldn't have done, but aren't we all wiser after the event? We were honest and open, I gave a thorough 53-point list of poltergeist activity at our house, which was largely ignored. A few points were chosen to be discussed (dissected, obliterated) by The Expert, who couldn't even get Jack's name right. He implied that I'd made it all up for attention. So, no. I won't be seeking media attention again in this manner. I was also on Vic Hyland's podcast and was interviewed for an hour, but I came over alarmingly orange in colour thanks to the mad pixellation on the computer. I have a face for radio, but I won't be speaking on that ever again either. Lessons learned!

As I write, we are two weeks in to January 2026, things are beginning to take shape; I have two very productive visits to The Mallet under my belt, and I have quite literally, just returned from a job interview at Lytes Cary Manor, so we'll see what happens. I've been asked if I would do a talk to the Southfleet WI at the end of the year too, although it's 150 miles away so I wonder if I should. But lovely to be asked though.... Oh yes, and been offered the amazing opportunity to have a private recording session at Charles Dickens's home at Gads Hill. Wouldn't that be something, to connect with one of the world's most famous authors?

Bring it on!