The strange lights of Shirley Street, Hove

In Haunted Brighton [1] Alan Murdie discusses a case of odd optical effects reported by residents of Shirley Street and Clarendon Street in Hove, 2002-3, which some commentators attributed to ghosts and others to UFOs or extraterrestrials.

The phenomena took the form of ‘Xs and bars which flicker along… [the] street’ [2], or ‘perfect circles of light with a pronounced X at the centre’ [3]. Murdie reservedly remarks that ‘interpretation of the light markings… [was] very much in the eye of the beholder’ (p.44), but concludes: ‘no single explanation has yet conclusively accounted for all the sightings’ (p.45).

I was intrigued by how this case defied the usual categories of paranormal experience, so I spent a morning in the library digging for the original reports. Sure enough, there they were: photographs of odd lights on the walls of houses along the affected streets, although much detail had been lost in the conversion to microfilm.

Concluding that there was nothing for it, except to organise a team and stake out Shirley Street, to see if the lights would show up again, I was making my way across town when a possible explanation for the case loomed up right before me.

X-shaped reflections of sunlight (some within circles) cast onto the exterior of a house.

Robert Street, Brighton. 16th September, 2014. 0900.

What could possibly be causing this? Spectral forces from beyond the grave? Space brothers from Venus? Crossing over the road and making the daring experiment of putting my head in the place where the lights appeared, I saw the following.

The sun's reflection shining brightly in a multi-panelled window.

What I could see when I put my head in the place of the reflections.

The circles and crosses were caused by the reflection of sunlight from a paned window across the street. Ironically, I was on Robert Street, Brighton, and the building whose windows cast the reflection was formerly the offices of the very newspaper that had seen fit to print the reports.

For the lights to appear the sun would need to be at an low angle to and parallel with one side of the street, so that its light could hit that side and be reflected onto the other. This meant that the effect could only occur in the morning or evening and would not be observable during the bulk of the day.

Of course, I could not be sure that this fully explained the rumours of spooks and aliens in Shirley Street. Strictly speaking, I should have made the effort to make the same observation on the actual site. Yet it now seemed to me highly likely that this simple phenomenon was indeed the cause. Wondering why no one else had been bothered simply to put their head in the way of the lights and see their source, I continued on my way, wiser and sadder.


[1] Alan Murdie, Haunted Brighton (Stroud: Tempus Publishing, 2006), p. 44-45. Further references are included in the text.

[2] The Argus, January 14th (2003), p. 13.

[3] The Argus, December 20th (2002), p. 3.

In Search of Ghosts

3 out of 5 stars
In Search of Ghosts
Ian Wilson (London: Headline, 1995).

Book cover, showing a sinister female figure in white.Well-written, substantial, and packed full of cases, what first leapt out at me from this book was its bravery in stripping away certain kinds of experiences in order to define what a ‘true’ ghost is. Unusually, Wilson will have nothing to do with poltergeists and crisis apparitions; in his view, a true ghost haunts, and the nature of haunting is very much the focus of this study. After a single chapter on each, poltergeists (because they seem to originate from the living) and crisis apparitions (because they appear anywhere, and generally only once) are quietly laid aside.

Every writer has their personal quirks. Wilson’s seem to include issues of status and identity. He will not present a case without soon mentioning what the witness does for a living (preferably an architect, psychiatrist or bishop), what titles and qualifications he or she has collected, and how big their house is. For instance, Roy Jenkins becomes ‘the former Roy Jenkins, now Lord Jenkins of Hillhead’, and even plain old Mrs. Dobbs is not spared the soubriquet of ‘humble cleaning lady’ (p. 64).

Wilson is charged with the need to know who people are, ‘since… any ghost book in which the names and locations have been changed might as well be a work of fiction’ (p. ix). Consequently, most of the cases in the book are attributed to named witnesses and specific places and dates. To me, this seemed admirable at first, until a case linked to the suicide of a young man (p. 69).

Wilson not only provides the full name of the man, and a version of events leading to his suicide, but also attributes the phenomena experienced on the site to him, so that: ‘we confront a ghost who, though he may have expressed himself only by sounds, emerges as a person with whose plight we can identify’ (p. 93).

Evidently, Wilson regards this as a compassionate stance, but, given that alternative explanations for the phenomena surely are possible, is it reasonable to identify strange noises in a house as the post-mortem intentions of an actual person? I wonder how the victim’s family and friends would receive the idea that after his death he remained in some kind of ‘plight’?

Wilson opens the book with an intriguing ghostly experience of his own, during which his impulse to pray for the ghost seemed to enable it to depart (p. 4). As the book proceeds, the impression grows that Wilson’s personal experience has very much coloured his attitude toward ghosts in general.

Much as he likes to firmly identify people in this life, Wilson seems drawn to assume that survival of that same identity beyond life is the best explanation for ghostly phenomena. Next, he marshals the anecdotal evidence at his disposal to advance the notion that rituals or prayers should be used where possible to relieve the condition of ghosts.

For him, the way that ghosts respond to prayer suggests: ‘something sentient, something capable of understanding the words and sentiments behind them. In other words, a human mind, a mind continuing on beyond death’ (p. 239). But what Wilson does not explain is, assuming that the ghost understands, why does prayer seem to work so much more powerfully for people who are dead? Is it not more likely (given Wilson’s own spontaneous need to pray whilst in the presence of a ghost) that the effect of prayer says less about the dead and more about the living?

This is a substantial book, and is brave in its attempt to get back to the old-school notion of the ghost as an ex-person in distress. But the evidence on offer never reaches the velocity required to escape from what seem the author’s personal preoccupations.

The Production of Haunted Space

3 out of 5 stars
The Production of Haunted Space: Its Meaning and Excavation
John G. Sabol Jr. (Bedford, PA: Ghost Excavation Books, 2013).

The Production of Haunted SpaceProbably one of the oddest and most original books I have read. I saw the author give a talk at a paranormal investigation conference, where he went down like a lead balloon, because most of the audience misidentified what he is doing with the usual ‘paranormal reality-show’ schtick. It is more sophisticated than that. Yet whether it offers a valid approach to paranormal research is a separate question.

Sabol is an archaeologist by training. In mainstream scientific paranormal research it is not known what a ‘ghost’ is nor what ‘haunted’ means. Sabol’s approach, in contrast, is to use archaeological concepts to ‘produce’ ghosts and hauntings. He identifies a site, takes his team onto it, and re-enacts historical incidents that took place at the site, recording as he goes. His is a social science methodology that utilises fundamentally pragmatist and postmodern concepts in its approach. A ‘historical incident’ for Sabol is a set of culturally-conditioned codes whose traces persist through time in one form or another. If he can identify traces of those codes in his recordings – for example, sounds that resemble words that could have been spoken on the battlefield – then a trace of those codes has been retrieved and is re-presenting itself to us for interpretation in the present. This is a ‘haunting’, a ‘ghost’. There is nothing ‘paranormal’ for Sabol about haunted sites. A ‘haunting’ is the persistence and retrieval at a site of social codes, of signs. A ‘haunting’ is a semiotic process, rather than anything ‘spiritual’ or – indeed – exclusively material. What differentiates Sabol’s method from your run-of-the-mill ghost hunter is that the traces returned by it will have some kind of historical accuracy.

This is not science, because it re-creates hauntings according to a particular definition, rather than seeking to establish what a haunting is through material evidence. But it is not magick either, because no claim of truth or validity is being made for the phenomena that the method creates – the phenomena are regarded simply as signs, open to further interpretation.

Sadly, there are a lot of typos in the text, which lets it down a little. It is such an uncompromisingly original book, however, I cannot help but admire it. On the question of whether it constitutes a substantial contribution to the understanding of paranormal phenomena in general, or offers instead only one angle on a particular spectrum of experiences – I am tending towards the latter. But it is a unique book and it certainly provoked a lot of thoughts.

Dark arts

I stumbled across this article a while ago — curiously, in the ‘Arts and Exhibitions’ section of an on-line London newspaper. It concerns Mario Lautier Vella, an artist, who claims he lives in a haunted house.

My bedroom was always icy cold and there was always an edge to that room. The summer I first saw the ghost was in my lounge while I was painting. I was working on a project about my family’s ghost stories and maybe somehow, something had been attracted by this… Then the noises began. The hall floorboards would creak, footsteps would go up and down the stairs and I would hear a lot of strange knocking. It used to keep me up at night as it sounded like I was being burgled. After about four months it got very active and my fear turned to irritation. It was only after my neighbours downstairs told me that they were also hearing noises in my flat that I said something. We invited a medium around to cleanse the house but the activity continues to this day, albeit not so frequently.

Mario has made the ghostly activity a major theme of his artistic work, which — coupled with the fact that he hasn’t moved out — suggests he’s not too disturbed by the experiences.

It struck me, however, that this could be an example of a ghost being manufactured as much as witnessed. With regard to the phenomena themselves, we have a glimpsed figure (probably in the peripheral vision), and assorted noises. There’s nothing in the article on what was done to trace the sighting and noises to any other source (e.g. possible misperception, plumbing, rodents) — and voila! A ‘ghost’ is created! Then all we need to do is to hold a few seances, call in a few mediums, and before we know it:

We discovered there were five presences and I know about four of them, but I’ve only seen one. One spirit we call the lady of the house and even now when a friend comes round the lights flicker as she’s formed an attachment to him. I have this very strange relationship with them all.

It may be a strange relationship, but Mario seems quite happy with his resident spirits, and the inspiration they provide for his work. If he weren’t so comfortable with having them around, however, I wonder if he wouldn’t be inclined to see if he could trace the noises and his sighting to any other sources…