The spooky pub (oooh)
My grandparents used to run a pub near Esher in Surrey. It was an old coach house, set on five floors. I can’t remember the name. Possibly the White Horse or something like that. It’s no longer there and I think the pub’s been turned into flats now.

My mum and aunt both lived and worked in the pub when they were young. There are a few instances of ‘spooky’ goings on.

1) The bar buzzer going mental, when all the staff were in the dining room. As soon as my granddad went to the bar, there was no one there and the buzzing stopped immediately. Put this down to dodgy wiring

2) My aunt’s French boyfriend came to stay and was using the room in the loft. He turned the light off and went to bed, as soon as he got into bed, the lights came on. This pattern repeated itself a few times, before the lights went mental and the bulb blew. Ok, dodgy wiring again

3) One night my nan is woken in the witching hour (oooh), by their Labrador growling viciously outside their bedroom door, my granddad wasn’t moving as usual, so nan went outside, where the dog wanted to go downstairs (they were on the third floor). She followed him all the way down to the bar, unlocking all the doors as she went, with the dog leading the way, throaty growl emanating all the time. This went on until they got to the bar, where all of a sudden the dog whimpered and crawled on his belly behind my nan and wouldn’t budge. As soon as she backed out of the room, the dog bolted it upstairs (pussy). Put this down to the dog being a wimp.

4) My mum was cleaning the stair carpet on the fourth floor, when she heard her sister call her name and tap her on the shoulder. She turned around and no one was there. She was halfway up the stairs at the time and her sister was in the pub garden. Can’t put this down to the gin, mum doesn’t really drink.

5) Lastly, mum was in the lounge doing a bit more cleaning. It was about 30ft long with an old fashioned (modern at the time) wooden TV cabinet. Dave Allen was on TV at the time. As she was watching the TV, a large serving plate on the table next to it, rose up into the air, flew across the room and smashed at her feet. She didn’t run away shrieking like a mad woman (I would have soiled myself threefold), but went down to the bar and told the story to one of the cleaners, who told her she never liked being in the lounge on her own (oooh).
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Wed 13 Apr 2011, 12:38, 2 replies)

*Clicks*
I love a haunted pub story, I have worked in a few myself years ago.

*Makes inevitable spirit joke*
( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Wed 13 Apr 2011, 12:43, closed)

^What she said^

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 13 Apr 2011, 13:53, closed)