I have never been on a ghost walk. I’m not entirely sure I believe in ghosts. But to cut a long story short, one of my amazing friends came all the way to England from San Diego FOR A WEEKEND to cheer me up, so we did one. She is awesome.
With America being severely lacking on the history front, I took my friend Jenn to Nottingham to see Nottingham Castle. We got there just as it shut. Damn. But then Jenn, the genius, saw a leaflet for The Original Nottingham Ghost Walk that was on that night – if we killed a few more hours wandering around Nottingham, we could go to this! WHOOP!
So we did. At 7pm, we queued up outside the oldest pub in England, Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, whereupon we were greeted by three men in their 50’s, all in steampunk-esque era. Simon, Brian and the other gentleman whose name I’ve forgotten (sorry!).
After a story outside the pub about a man called Slippery Jack (he was hanged for … can’t remember really, let’s just say being a dick on a boat, his mates let off a bunch of fireworks which obscured the hanging and Jack escaped …) we then embarked on a bloody freezing walk around Nottingham, listening to tales of Welsh children being hanged over the castle walls, and the ghosts of prostitutes still banging away. We heard about Queen Isabella screaming over the death of her son, Edward II, and her lover, Roger Mortimer. We also got treated to a demonstration of being hung, drawn and quartered – thanks to birthday girl Sophie (who was only 13) for being nominated by her friends to assist in the demonstration. **No teenagers were harmed.
The tour ended up in the caves under Ye Olde Salutation, where we learnt about the “best way to die”. No spoilers here, but it’s definitely pleasureable …
It was a fantastic night. I left Nottingham no more convinced in ghosts, but definitely up for doing it all again.