In the spring of 1970, a very intriguing incident occurred. It was experienced by Peter Jones, a venerable carpenter who, as he grew older, began to appreciate the simpler things in life.
Originally from Bromborough, England, he was pressured by his wife and brother to retire at the age of 64, but Peter honestly felt that in his mind he was still eighteen.
He loved getting away from the overcrowded rabbit hole of his extended family home and taking his Cortina out to explore the quiet lanes and countryside of his beloved Wirral, sometimes indulging in a birdwatching spot with a few low-powered motor vehicles. binoculars.
On this sunny late afternoon in early April 1970, Peter was driving home along the narrow lane of Poulton Hall Road, which was normally lined with hedges, but now the carpenter saw something that both bewildered and irritated him: the green hedges that line the land had surrounded. The lane was gone and some awful looking modernist homes had been built north of the road.
They were a real eyesore; a jumble of mismatched domed structures that collided in a cacophony of windows tinted in bright colors and bizarre geometric styles.
Peter drove slowly past a sign that read ‘Clatter Brook Meadows’ and below this sign were the words ‘Built by the Gemini Party’ next to a circular logo that looked like some sort of mandala.
Then the man from Bromborough got quite a shock. In the distance he could see a group of people in the area of that plague in the landscape, and they were all standing or sitting without clothes on.
What the hell was going on?
Not only had the local authorities given permission to build those ugly, soulless modern monstrosities on farmland and forest, they had also allowed naturists to live there. Peter decided to contact his MP about this.
Peter told his wife Mary about the scandalous ‘development’ on the land north of Poulton Hall Road by the so-called ‘Gemini Party’ and Mary said she was sure there was no housing estate of the type he had on that site described; she had been driven along Poulton Hall Road by the neighbor a fortnight ago when she had visited her cousin and had seen the usual roadside hedges and farmland to the north.
“Well, I didn’t imagine that at all, dear,” said Peter, “so they must be from a jerry can; they must have thrown them over.’
“And there were people walking around there looking grim?” asked Peter’s son-in-law from Liverpool, Jack, as he sat in Peter’s armchair.
“Yes,” Peter replied, noticing Jack’s annoying grin, “go and see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“I guess I will if you want to take me there,” Jack said, but his wife – Peter’s daughter – shook her head and said to her husband, “Hey, behave.”
“Well, I certainly haven’t heard about new houses and a nudist colony living in them,” said a grinning Mary, returning to the kitchen to make tea.
Half an hour later, Peter was sitting at the head of the table and Mary and Peter’s brother and seven other members of the family were talking mockingly about Peter’s story, almost as if Peter wasn’t there, and he snapped and said, ‘ Okay, enough of all the stupid jokes; we’ll all go to Poulton Hall Road after we’ve had our tea and you’ll all be laughing on the other side of your face.’
Sure enough, about half an hour after the tea had subsided, Peter drove with his incredulous brother, son-in-law and daughter to Poulton Hall Road, and the Cortina was followed by an old Morris Minor with five other members of the family.
Peter was left with egg on his face as there was no sign of strange houses beyond the lane, just farmland, and the hedges were clearly still there. “I can’t understand this,” Peter said, driving the car around at about five miles per hour, his anxious eyes scanning the area.
“Are you sure you didn’t have a few before you got behind the wheel, Dad?” his son-in-law Jack asked, and Peter ignored the impertinent question.
The cars turned around at the end of the road and headed home – when something bizarre happened. The Cortina collided with a white, artificial-looking figure that resembled a mannequin, but it was moving.
The Cortina was left with an abrasion along its body where it had grazed the strange figure. Peter’s son-in-law Jack thought the figure was some kind of robot, although it moved naturally and not in a robotic, mechanical way. In the brief moments this humanoid was seen, several witnesses said it appeared to be carrying gardening tools, such as a rake and a green watering can.
The figure was there for a moment and then disappeared.
Then Peter noticed that the Morris Minor had stopped behind him so he stopped his car to see what was going on. Peter’s daughter in the back seat of the Cortina said there were ‘funny looking houses’ in a field off Poulton Hall Road and that the people in the second car also saw the futuristic houses, the Clatter Brook Meadows sign and the naturists, who appeared at being golf.
As all the curious observers watched, the scene seemed to dim and melt away like a mirage. As far as I know no more strange visions have been seen by anyone in the fields north of Poulton Hall Road, and one wonders about the ‘Gemini Party’ mentioned on the baffling billboard; Is it a future political group?
I spoke to a person with knowledge of town planning and he said it is unlikely that the farmland and woodland north of Poulton Hall Road will be built on as it appears to be protected and conserved land. Time will tell, I guess.
Another case of a haunted house came to mind when I wrote about the previous case, and that was an incident in 1969 when two young musicians called Mal and Ambrose were driving through Thurstaston through heavy rain when their car shuddered to a halt as they ran out of petrol . .
They noticed a huge mansion with lighted windows and the sounds of jazz music coming from it, so they went to the house, hoping that maybe someone could lend them a can of gas for the car.
Instead, a giggling lady and a butler in a hammerblow coat came to the door and the butler told the two young hippies to leave the estate immediately, but the tipsy, chuckling woman grabbed Mal and Ambrose’s hands and dragged them into the hallway.
There was a wild party in full swing and in addition to bubbling champagne, the guests were also drinking narcotics.
An old gramophone with horn played the jazz music the musicians had heard and the young men were treated to drinks and a variety of snacks and hors d’oeuvres, luxurious salads and desserts and chilled seafood.
Mal thought it was all a costume party with a 1920s theme, but Ambrose felt uncomfortable with the situation.
Mal grabbed his guitar from the car and accompanied himself in a growling rendition of the 1968 Arthur Brown song Fire – which brought the party to a standstill. “Well, that went well,” Ambrose said, to which Mal added, “Yeah, just like the Titanic.”
The mention of the tragic liner caused a shock of fear among the guests at the party, and the girl who invited the two young people told them to leave, and the butler and another man grabbed Mal and Ambrose and threw them out .
The men had to walk for miles to find a gas station and when they returned to their car the mansion was gone.
The boys discovered that the haunted mansion was Dawpool Hall and was demolished in 1927.
It had been the home of shipowner Thomas Henry Ismay – founder of the White Star Line – the shipping company to which the Titanic belonged…
