When I was a child, I spent most of my time outdoors. I had tree houses and houses made of straw bales in a nearby barn. A friend owned two ponies: together we’d ride for hours, constructing fantasies of being knights of old or Wild-West cowboys. I went fishing in a local stream with my father, catching the occasional trout and cooking it over a fire hastily constructed out of sticks, and eating it on the spot – just minutes after it had been swimming upstream. At night I’d fall asleep planning what I’d do in the great outdoors the following day.
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'This rude spectral activity was a far cry from the moaning and chain-clanking traditionally associated with hauntings. It had a distinctly modern flavour.'
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