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This is a question Halloween

‘WoooOOoOOoo’ intones Richard McBeef. ‘WooOOooo’. Halloween is upon us, that time of pre Christian spirit worship, the fear of the unknown and the undead….and plastic skeletons from Asda.

What better time to hear your scariest accounts: when have you been most petrified? Ever had an encounter that you couldn’t rationally explain? Perhaps you yourself are a spooky ghost? Do tell.

(, Mon 26 Oct 2015, 10:55)
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And again (but still haven't been back to the hotel)
This is a recent experience and, when I went through it, I wished that the 'creepy' qotw was still open. But, I write it here anyway because you can go check out the hotel for yourselves next time you are in central London and see how you react. I, for one, was shitting myself.

My colleagues at work (feeling in a generous mood) treated me to a weekend at the Lanesborough hotel in Knightsbridge for my Birthday..basically a swanky boys weekend. I had no idea about this hotel, but it's seriously luxurious. When you arrive, a butler in a penguin suit unpacks everything for you and your ’outfit for the evening’ is pressed.. You are given personalized stationary ( complete with business cards) so that when you go shopping, you can leave a card for the packages to be delivered. No minibar, but a range of large crystal decanters..etc etc. Each floor has that butler on standby and I must admit I got used to having my own personal Jeeves quite quickly

The first day and evening, we lapped it up..We sat in the bar drinking martinis and generally behaving like ponces. Went to sleep in a massive bed feeling very good about life.The next day, in the afternoon, I was walking out of my room and as I was locking the door, noticed five middle aged women standing in the corridor looking around them smiling. As I was walking towards them to get to the lift, I thought their manner was a bit odd (no one really hangs about in hotel corridors) and asked if they were lost in a friendly way. They laughed self-consciously and told me that they used to work on this floor when it was a hospital. I must have looked surprised, and so they nattered on, taking out an old photo album to show me, full of b&w photos of themselves in uniforms reminiscent of Carry On Nurse movies... They told me that they had come down to London for the weekend and the management of the hotel had let them walk around for old times sake. I asked them what my floor was and they said it was the ward used when people were in and out of intensive care, and pointed out the window to the curving road where the ambulances would come in. They were reminiscing as much to each other as to me and one of them mentioned ”Wasn't the grey lady on this floor?” and another one said ”no” just as they remembered that I was still standing there. Of course, I had to ask ”who was the grey lady?” and they all went quiet. Realising they had put their foot in it, they started by telling me that it was all ”ok”, there had been a service by a priest when they had started converting it to a hotel and then told me (still standing there, really wishing I hadn't asked the question) that they always knew when a patient in intensive care wasn't going to make it because they would ask the nurses ”who is the kind lady in the grey uniform?”. Many patients had given them several descriptions such that they reckoned that ”she” was wearing the uniform of a nurse in the crimean war, when the hospital was originally built.

So, all excited, I went to join my colleagues in the hotel bar. One of them is mega superstitious, and whilst going a shade of grey himself, he asked for the concierge to come and have a word. I related what the nurses had told me and this concierge spoke quietly and rather seriously that, yes, there had been ”instances” in the 17 years he had been working there. The official line was that there is ”nothing” to worry about, but he said that a number of staff had seen things that had ”really scared them” (his words) resulting in them handing in their notices and just walking out.

I asked what the most recent one was and he told us this:

Two weeks before, a ”well known politician” was in town with his entourage. The concierge was on the night shift and this big shot came downstairs in the middle of the night, in his pajamas, out of breath. He insisted that there was a woman in his room. Being who he was, there was extra security present 24/7 and they immediately went up to investigate. They returned saying the room was empty and the concierge meanwhile tried to reassure the frightened politician that, look, when we look at the computer records of the use of your key-card, no one has entered the room through the door. To which he replied ”she didn't come through the door, she came in through the wall”. He refused to go back upstairs and they had to wake his staff to pack up all his stuff and he checked out immediately.

At this point, I am beginning to get decidedly unsettled. The rational part of me said, ”don't be silly, perfectly simple explanation to all of this”. But, having a casual encounter with the nurses, seeing their photo album made me superimpose the vision of a hospital (and a Victorian one at that) onto the luxury facade that had been built up. Add to that a concierge who seemed to confirm what these strangers had told me was too much of a coincidence.

We carried on drinking and enjoying ourselves, but as the day progressed, all three of use were getting more and more quiet, and lost in our thoughts, knowing that at some point we would have to walk upstairs to our rooms in, what was to us now: essentially a haunted house

The irrational side of me took over when I did so. I have to admit I was really scared. I went through the normal routine of getting to bed (brushing teeth, having a piss), in quiet terror, my heart hammering away and I refused to look at any mirrors (or the walls for that matter). I did not sleep a wink but lay under the quilt, every single sound amplified by my imagination

The next day, my colleagues looked as knackered as I felt. We were happy to check out..

I know, they might have all been taking the piss...that thought did not help at the time

When you go visit it, think of a hospital and the layout of the place will make sense. In addition, ask if you can see the special luxury cigar smoking room in the basement. It's at the end of a long corridor and has no windows but set up with leather sofas and industrial strength extractors. The concierge told us it used to be the morgue.
(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 7:50, closed)
Fuck off, Skagra.
No one's reading all that shit you type.
(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 8:19, closed)
Nice to know
I haunt uou so

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXMWAAH!
(, Sun 1 Nov 2015, 21:14, closed)
I like this.

(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 9:15, closed)
Jeeves is not a butler, he's a valet.

(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 10:46, closed)
He probably pronounces that 'vall-ay' as well.
What a repulsive oik.
(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 19:16, closed)
Simply ghastly.

(, Thu 29 Oct 2015, 10:50, closed)
You big gaylord

(, Wed 28 Oct 2015, 14:23, closed)
Great story
well told, have a clikc sweetie

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
(, Sun 1 Nov 2015, 21:14, closed)

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