I am home from Monte Cristo after a short but intense stay with Reg and Olive and the ten ghosts that live with them in their splendid Junee mansion. If you're passing through Junee go and stop in. Reg and Olive are perfect hosts, and if you're there for a B&B they treat you like one of the family.
If you're there for a ghost tour you get the works. Reg, decked out all in black, candles flickering in the hallway behind him, opens up the front doors and invites you in. You fill each room, jammed together amongst glorious antiques and beneath the gaze of spooky portraits. (the candlelight makes for perfect atmosphere).
I found each room seemed to have its own personality, along with its own distinct temperature. It's said people often faint on tour, feel nauseous, see apparitions or feel a poking or prodding by an unseen force, among other things.
My night was no exception. The lady standing next to me, although i didn't know it at the time, was experiencing a lot of the above sensations. (She was terrified and called up the mansion the following morning to tell me all about it.)
As i was the only paying guest staying over for the evening i climbed the stairs, closed my guest room door and tried to get some sleep. It wasn't easy.
Now to write some poems about it for the new book. Ghost Poetry is proving to be one hell of a year. I will post some photos of Monte Cristo in the gallery soon.
I will also post some info on Fremantle Arts Centre where i am staying next month... it was once a lunatic asylum.
If you're there for a ghost tour you get the works. Reg, decked out all in black, candles flickering in the hallway behind him, opens up the front doors and invites you in. You fill each room, jammed together amongst glorious antiques and beneath the gaze of spooky portraits. (the candlelight makes for perfect atmosphere).
I found each room seemed to have its own personality, along with its own distinct temperature. It's said people often faint on tour, feel nauseous, see apparitions or feel a poking or prodding by an unseen force, among other things.
My night was no exception. The lady standing next to me, although i didn't know it at the time, was experiencing a lot of the above sensations. (She was terrified and called up the mansion the following morning to tell me all about it.)
As i was the only paying guest staying over for the evening i climbed the stairs, closed my guest room door and tried to get some sleep. It wasn't easy.
Now to write some poems about it for the new book. Ghost Poetry is proving to be one hell of a year. I will post some photos of Monte Cristo in the gallery soon.
I will also post some info on Fremantle Arts Centre where i am staying next month... it was once a lunatic asylum.
