Ghosts and UFO's
Dec 7, 2009 16:33:12 GMT -1
Post by SEAJUNKY on Dec 7, 2009 16:33:12 GMT -1
Here is another Ghost story for you
The black dog Inn
Just after the hurricane hit the south of England in 1987, Geraldine and I had booked a holiday in Dorset. We had been out for a run out down to Lullworth Cove. We sat in the car park right next to the beach. The sea was still extremely rough; it was still so windy that we could feel it trying to pick the car up, it was battering the car quite badly. Some of the houses on Portland Bill still had sand bags against their front doors, and these houses were a good 100 feet above sea level. But with the wind blowing the sea high in the air it was travelling up hill and flooding the houses as it run back down.
We were making our way home and we decided to pop into a pub which is fairly close to our lodgings. By now it was really raining as well. As we entered the pub just imagine the site that greeted up, a huge log fire in an inglenook fire place, laying on the floor in front of the fire was a great big lazy black Labrador, and laying on him was a big fat ginger cat, they both lifted their heads as we walked in and lay back down, and apart from us and the animals the pub was empty. I said to the wife to site down by the fire to get warm as I made my way over to the bar. The landlord appeared from a back room behind the bar, and he greeted us by saying, good lord customers. He went on to explain because of the weather it had been very quiet. I asked for a pint of the locally brewed beer, and a drink for the wife. I asked him about the pubs unusual name “The Black Dog” He smiled and then he asked if we would mind if he poured himself a drink and joined us by the fireside, we of course said that he would be most welcome. He then started to tell us about how back in the 17th century the pub was very popular with the Dorset smugglers, who used to meet at the pub before and after any skulduggery that was going on. Under the pub there had been a long tunnel dug, this was used to enter and leave the pub unobserved, it came up about 250 yards from the pub behind a hedge row. The entrance is still there but it is barred up. As he was telling us this story, the wind was howling outside , and the rain was lashing against the windows of the pub, the landlord got a pipe out of his pocket and slowly packed it with tobacco and lit it, the smoke was sucked towards and disappeared up the chimney. (You could smoke in the pubs back in those days) Anyway One day the customs men had been tipped off about the men using the pub, and what they got up to. And even in those days would you believe it, they had sniffer dogs, they were trained to sniff out tobacco and booze. The customs men had caught some of the men from the pub, then one day the customs men found the tunnel, and put their sniffer dog to work. Well the dog run the full length of the tunnel and came up in the pub, the smugglers got hold of the dog and killed it by chopping its head off. The windows rattled in their frames, At this point in the story he asked us to walk over to the window and look outside. There was an emergency run off, like you would have at the bottom of a big hill, (I think they call it an escape ramp, for when your brake fail) well the road outside the pub was dead flat; we sat back down by the fire. The landlord went on to explain that even to this day cars keep swerving to miss a headless black dog that runs across the road in front of the cars just outside of the pub, and its always in the same place. And sometimes on a still night the sound of a howling dog from deep under the pub can be heard.
The black dog Inn
Just after the hurricane hit the south of England in 1987, Geraldine and I had booked a holiday in Dorset. We had been out for a run out down to Lullworth Cove. We sat in the car park right next to the beach. The sea was still extremely rough; it was still so windy that we could feel it trying to pick the car up, it was battering the car quite badly. Some of the houses on Portland Bill still had sand bags against their front doors, and these houses were a good 100 feet above sea level. But with the wind blowing the sea high in the air it was travelling up hill and flooding the houses as it run back down.
We were making our way home and we decided to pop into a pub which is fairly close to our lodgings. By now it was really raining as well. As we entered the pub just imagine the site that greeted up, a huge log fire in an inglenook fire place, laying on the floor in front of the fire was a great big lazy black Labrador, and laying on him was a big fat ginger cat, they both lifted their heads as we walked in and lay back down, and apart from us and the animals the pub was empty. I said to the wife to site down by the fire to get warm as I made my way over to the bar. The landlord appeared from a back room behind the bar, and he greeted us by saying, good lord customers. He went on to explain because of the weather it had been very quiet. I asked for a pint of the locally brewed beer, and a drink for the wife. I asked him about the pubs unusual name “The Black Dog” He smiled and then he asked if we would mind if he poured himself a drink and joined us by the fireside, we of course said that he would be most welcome. He then started to tell us about how back in the 17th century the pub was very popular with the Dorset smugglers, who used to meet at the pub before and after any skulduggery that was going on. Under the pub there had been a long tunnel dug, this was used to enter and leave the pub unobserved, it came up about 250 yards from the pub behind a hedge row. The entrance is still there but it is barred up. As he was telling us this story, the wind was howling outside , and the rain was lashing against the windows of the pub, the landlord got a pipe out of his pocket and slowly packed it with tobacco and lit it, the smoke was sucked towards and disappeared up the chimney. (You could smoke in the pubs back in those days) Anyway One day the customs men had been tipped off about the men using the pub, and what they got up to. And even in those days would you believe it, they had sniffer dogs, they were trained to sniff out tobacco and booze. The customs men had caught some of the men from the pub, then one day the customs men found the tunnel, and put their sniffer dog to work. Well the dog run the full length of the tunnel and came up in the pub, the smugglers got hold of the dog and killed it by chopping its head off. The windows rattled in their frames, At this point in the story he asked us to walk over to the window and look outside. There was an emergency run off, like you would have at the bottom of a big hill, (I think they call it an escape ramp, for when your brake fail) well the road outside the pub was dead flat; we sat back down by the fire. The landlord went on to explain that even to this day cars keep swerving to miss a headless black dog that runs across the road in front of the cars just outside of the pub, and its always in the same place. And sometimes on a still night the sound of a howling dog from deep under the pub can be heard.