I recently became fascinated by the haunted history of Skirrid Inn, which lies in the small Monmouthshire village of Llanfihangel Crucorney, in south-east Wales. When I realised a recent day trip would take me very close to the inn, I couldn't resist a detour to the location.
We arrived at sundown, finding the sleepy, rural village bathed in a pinkish-purple glow.
We drove through an archway into the pub's car park, and settled in the beer garden, as I had my dog with me. Within a minute or so of sitting, I got an overwhelming sense of misery and despair.
After taking the above shot, I paid a visit to the bathroom. This is when things got a little stranger. It suddenly felt icy cold and I had a sense of someone repeating over and over to me, 'I didn't do it, I didn't do it'. Was this my imagination playing tricks? I had a further impression that the person was a young boy, maybe no more than 14 years old. Where the heck was this all coming from? As soon as I left the bathroom, it stopped, although the chill remained.
I returned to the corridor where the hangman's noose was located. The rope isn't the original, but it's suspended from the original beam, which bears impressions from the original rope.
I decided to step outside, and take my dog for a walk around the front of the inn, before we left for the long drive home.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw this character standing at the inn's front entrance, next to the ancient front door.
Fortunately, it was just the publican's idea of a joke. Phew. Before I left, I decided to grab a shot of the mountain which gave the Skirrid Inn its name. I found the Skirrid Mountain, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun, just as eerie as the inn itself.