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October PrimEvil Dinosaur Adventure Park, Lenwade


October Halloween Spooktacular Great Yarmouth Hippodrome

15th October-

26th November Monster season Cinema City

15th - 30th

October Te Glorious Glowing Lantern Parade Bewilderwood

31st October

Spooky City Halloween parade City Centre


October Norwich Ghost Walks – Halloween Special Cow Tower, Riverside

28th October

Pam’s House Halloween Horror Story Freak Show The LCR

Tombland. Except that it isn’t. Tere are no burials, no mass graves, no plague pits, no headstones, and very definitely, no tombs. Tis is Norwich, so it doesn’t have to make sense. No dead bodies under your feet, but there are a shedload of ghost stories attached to the area, all waiting to scare the shit out of you this Halloween.

Legend (bollocks) has it that during an outbreak of the plague the inhabitants of Augustine Steward House (aka that wonky building next to the lurid Samson & Hercules statues) all succumbed and the building was sealed up. Except that one member of the family – a young girl, because it’s always a young girl – was still alive, and resorted to cannibalism in a vain attempt to survive. She didn’t, so now her ghost haunts Tombland Alley, her spiritual form having managed to escape the place that killed her (not sure how that works, but ghost stories don’t really rely on logic).

Just opposite that, the Maids Head is reputed (more bollocks) to be haunted by both a former Lord Mayor, and an old lady, who was once a servant there. Te reason

34 / October 2016/

you can tell it’s an old lady is because she reeks of lavender, apparently (and quite possibly wee). Around the corner, Elm Hill is home to the ethereal form of Father Ignatius, who founded a Benedictine monastery which was dispersed ‘after two difficult years’ and now floats above the cobblestones, hating everyone.

My favourite piece of spooky woo nonsense though is Sam, Lord Sheffield, who had a brief, but memorable altercation with a cleaver during Ketts Rebellion, and was taken to the Adam & Eve pub nearby. He died, oozily and messily on a table there, and has never left, contenting himself with making odd bangs, bumps, and smashing ashtrays. I can think of worse places to spend eternity than in a pub.

(And Tombland is just an old Scandinavian word. ‘Tomy lond’, meaning empty space, because it’s where they used to have the market place before the bastard Normans turned up and moved it. Not very spooky. Sorry).

By jessikart

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