"My own suspicion is that the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose." J B S Haldane

FT104: In the early 1960s I was at a special boarding school for the deaf at Bolton near Manchester. Sometime between 1964 and 1966, on a summer evening around 4:30pm, I was standing alone in the school’s wash room. Because I was small, I was standing on a wooden chair so that I could look in the mirror to brush my hair. As I turned the cold water tap on to wet my hair, a horrible vibrating noise made me think there must be an air-lock in the pipes. I ran the comb under the water and raised it towards my hair, but it hit something solid above my head. I looked up to see what it was and was frightened to find nothing there. The ceiling was about 15ft high, so I tried once more to comb my hair. Again it hit something a few inches above my head, and again when I looked there was nothing there. I raised my hand and pressed against what felt like glass or an invisible force field.

I ran into the corridor trying to find someone to witness this phenomenon – but there was no one around. I was excited as well as scared and so I returned to the chair, stood on it again and hit the barrier as hard as I could with the hope of smashing it, but all it did was make a dull thud that echoed around the wash room. I then became frightened that it would crush me to death, so I turned off the running tap and was about to leave when I realised that the barrier had vanished. I turned the tap on again but it did not come back. I tried numerous "settings" on the tap for the rest of my time at the school, but the barrier never happened again. Has anybody else had this kind of experience or got any ideas on what it was? Karl Liggett, Newton-le-Willows, Merseyside.

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FT117: During a summer camping holiday in Snowdonia, my father, brother and I climbed a hill near the campsite and came upon a waterfall. The place greatly impressed us with its peace and serenity and we decided to rest there for a few minutes. The minutes turned into an hour and we began to feel that we did not want to leave. We found that the water was very soothing when we bathed our feet in it. After a while longer we each submerged our heads in the basin of water. Later on we all agreed that there was a calm, welcoming presence about the area, which grew stronger when under the water. A hawk had been circling all the time we were there, and it was with great reluctance that we finally left. Just before leaving, we each felt a certain kind of communication asking us to return. It was not really a command, but it was conveyed with an intensity that made it seem important.

In a trashy souvenir shop the next day, my father found a copy of The Mysteries of Britain by Lewis Spence, which had many mentions of the Celtic goddess Ceridwyn or Keridwen. She was a goddess of the Sacred Cauldron, and it appears that she and her followers had associations with the lost city of Emrys, supposedly somewhere in Snowdonia. Indeed, according to Spence, there was once a temple to Ceridwyn only a mile from the site of Emrys. We also discovered that Ceridwyn had the ability to turn herself into a hawk, amongst other things. She had obvious connections with water, being the keeper of the magical cauldron. We began to speculate as to whether we had encountered the goddess herself, although I feel that it is more likely that we experienced a trace of the site’s past. I would be interested to know if any other readers have had similar experiences in Snowdonia. R W Monk, Kingston upon Thames, Surrey.

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FT117: During the summer of 1994 while I was living in Oxfordshire, I was taken by a friend to an old forest known as The Wychwood (parts of which are alleged to have never been seen or touched by modern man) to search for burial mounds and other sites of interest.

In one particularly old and untrodden patch of forest my friend told me to stop and asked me what I could hear. Much to my amazement, I heard a sound something between the buzzing of bees, the chattering of birds or possibly the sound of lots of children playing just beyond earshot, which if you’re in the middle of The Wychwood is just not possible. The sound was accompanied by a bit of a floaty feeling. When I tried to hear the sound more clearly, the more it faded and I found it was best heard when one just relaxed and let the sound float over you.

By and by we carried on our walk and eventually returned home. While I relaxed, the most curious sensation came over me: once again the same strange floaty feeling, but this time accompanied by an hallucination which looked like cine film coming off the end of its spool and flapping loose in the projector. My friend insisted that this was a normal side-effect of having visited such a place and that there are other such places the world over that would give rise to similar side effects. If this is so, I would like to know if any readers have had first hand experience of such things. Matt Hatton (by email).

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 FT119: In 1997 I attended a conference in Alice Springs and a mate, Rob, travelled with me. After the conference we decided to visit Uluru (Ayer’s Rock). Before heading off, I filled up with petrol using a credit card. We calculated it to be a four-hour trip allowing time to get back to Curtain Springs before dark.

I was merrily driving along when I became aware that something was distinctly wrong – the sun had set. I pointed this out to Rob who was wide awake and we pulled over. We were completely at a loss and more than a little bit scared; you see, the sun didn’t set until around 6pm and we had left Alice Springs at noon.

I checked the fuel receipt and it confirmed that I had filled up at 12:06pm. The engine temperature, odometer and fuel gauge were normal, but we had taken six hours to travel a distance that should have taken only three. There had been no parties, no drugs and no grog that day. The rest of the trip was uneventful. We still don’t know what happened during that missing portion of our lives. Warwick Alderton, Roma, Queensland.

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 FT120: The Hummadruz article [F115:28-31] reminded me of something that happened to me in the late eighties. I was working as a telephone engineer and had a call to a terraced house in Ilford, Essex, to check a noisy line. The man who answered the door appeared a bit stressed, so when I went in I immediately picked up the phone to listen for the noise. "No, no!" he said, "it’s not on the line, just listen!" I could hear a low humming sound. The man explained that this noise was driving him and his family "round the bend" and he was trying to eliminate all possible causes of the noise. He said it seemed to permeate the whole house at night when it was quiet and they were trying to get to sleep.

I disconnected the telephone line while he turned off the electricity mains, gas and water supply. The noise remained! I then suggested it could be coming from next door. Luckily he was on good terms with his neighbour and took me with him into her house which was only the thickness of a brick wall away. There was no noise at all. She obligingly turned off her services and we went back and checked in his house. The hum was still there. I suggested that he contact the local council. He said he had already done so and they were baffled. I never did find out what happened regarding this.

The oddest thing, I now realise, considering your article, was the house’s location. It was the first house in a turning off of Beehive Lane! This lane’s title is very ancient. Perhaps the Hummadruz was the original reason it was named so. Ken Doughty (by email).

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FT120: On the evening of 12 September 1997 I saw a lunar rainbow for the first time. I was walking the dog at about 9:40pm. The eastern sky was clear and lit by a three-quarters full moon and a shower cloud was coming in from the west. The rainbow was mainly just a bright bow with the colours barely discernible. I observed it for about 10-15 minutes before the shower passed overhead. I would like to know if this is a common phenomenon, and if there is any folklore associated with it. Rod MacDonald, Newton Stewart, Wigtownshire.

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FT120: With reference to Matt Hatton’s letter concerning odd sounds heard in The Wychwood [FT117:53] I would like to recount two similar incidents which I experienced on consecutive days during May 1997, while on a walking holiday along the South Downs Way (SDW) long distance path.

The first incident occurred during the afternoon of a bright and windy day. I had left the SDW and was walking along a path which meandered downhill through a fairly open beechwood, towards the village of Cocking. Sitting on a fallen tree trunk to consult the map, I became aware of what seemed to be the sound of children laughing and shouting, coming from the direction I had just come from, although some distance away.

The best description of the sound would be the noise from a school playground when heard from a distance. Expecting a bunch of rowdy youngsters to come tearing down the path at any moment, I continued to pour over the map. After about three or four minutes, I realised that the sound had not moved; it was still just out of earshot. Also, my head was spinning slightly, as if I had just stood up too fast, although I was still sitting on the trunk.

Intrigued, I retraced my steps to the top of the hill. The higher I went, the less obvious the sound became, ceasing altogether when I reached the top. I had seen no-one on the path, and the SDW as deserted as far as I could see in both directions.

I would have put this experience down to an over-active imagination, but for my experience the next day. Walking in the Charlton Forest, just south of the SDW, I was forced to take shelter from a downpour under some rhododendron bushes. As the shower passed, I emerged to be confronted by the same sound as I had heard the previous day, only this time it seemed to be coming from all directions and appeared to be louder than before. I scanned the surrounding woodland and it was obvious that there were no children or anyone else in the area. After about five minutes or so, the sound gradually started to fade, to be replaced by the normal woodland noises of birdsong, etc. Again I felt light-headed.

Since then, whenever I have passed through any wooded areas, I have kept an ear open for these sounds, but without success and I must admit to having no idea of their source. Dryads, maybe? Kevin Groves, Brighton, Sussex.

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 FT131: Some time ago, you published a letter from a man who experienced mysterious drops of water falling on his head indoors. It happens to me three or four times a year, always in my own home, never elsewhere. A single large drop will hit my bald patch. I am a tall man and when this happens I immediately reach up to feel the ceiling. There is never a hint of moisture there. Viv Hobbs, Blackwood, Gwent.

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 FT132: Many people were concerned about the number of pet cats disappearing last year [FT120:22-23], not least myself. I wrote to the Pagan Federation who were due to hold an Open Ritual at the University of London Union to ask if we could invoke the Egyptian Cat Goddess Bast to help stop the murders and mutilations. The Open Ritual took place on 29 October 1998 to celebrate Samhain (Hallowe’en). When the main ritual was over, those of us who had raised the point about the cat murders walked into the Circle and called upon Bast. We asked that those responsible for the murders and mutilations be brought to justice and that the crimes stop. A cone of power was raised and some people claimed to have witnessed the shadow of a giant cat present, although I personally did not see it. We felt that our request had indeed been granted. It is interesting to note from your report that the murders stopped suddenly in late 1998. I firmly believe this was the work of Bast. Lynn Hall, The Pagan Federation, BM Box 7097, London WC1N 3XX.

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FT135: When I was about seven, I was lying in bed and I remember looking towards the bedroom window. The curtains had a pattern of squares and as I looked at them I noticed two shadows which seemed to be climbing the pattern. It was as if two figures behind the curtains, about six inches tall, were climbing them. One would climb up and then help the other. Terrified, I screamed and they vanished. People have said I must have been dreaming, but I very rarely remember my dreams and those I do remember fade very quickly in my head. If anyone else has had a similar experience I would love to hear it. Chris Chapman, Brotton, Cleveland.

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FT138: One mild evening in late November, I went for a walk and stopped by the old entrance of Cardiff’s Roath dock, now disused. I smoked a cigarette and watched the full moon climbing the sky when I distinctly heard a baby’s cry, piercing the regular noise of wind and water and flotsam. I tried to pinpoint it, but the sky had become cloudy, and artificial light didn’t reach the water. It appeared to be coming from the water, beyond the safety fence. For a moment, I felt like jumping the fence to investigate, but something made me turn away.

After a few steps, the crying stopped, leaving only the sounds of tide and wind. Suddenly I remembered that, as a child, an old sailor had told me that the seas hold many creatures, some of whom will save your life when the ship sinks, while others will lure you to destruction with love songs, enchantments and calls of distress from dark places; so when the kind man goes over into the darkness to give help, he is taken away by these creatures and…bodies are never found. Mario Dias, Cardiff.

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 FT139: I have a fairly new answering machine – a modern one with a chip instead of a cassette. A couple of evenings ago I ran in just as someone was leaving a message for me, so I answered the call, thus cutting off the recording device. Later that evening as I was about to erase the start of that message, I picked up what sounded like another voice in the tiny gap between the end of my pre-recorded message and the start of the caller speaking. I turned up the volume and heard a very low and menacing voice that actually made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I couldn’t understand the beginning of its message but could detect the word "Crash" very clearly and also "Stupid" before the caller started speaking and obscured the last of it.

I have never had a message like this so it is not an overlap of recordings and besides, there is no cassette. There was no crossed line – I answered the phone as she was leaving the message so actually spoke to her personally and can confirm a clear line. The voice was very menacing and quite disturbing and seemed to begin just as the recorder started. I have actually always maintained there was a presence in this caller’s house (having been a house-sitter previously), and wonder if my answer machine has picked up someone/something residing there or whether there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. I’d be interested in any ideas and I still have the recording if anyone cares. Stacey Kettner, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire.

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FT140: Last May, while walking down London Road towards the Elephant & Castle in south London at around 1pm, I was suddenly aware that I could smell church incense. This was not just a slight sensation; I could actually taste the "texture" of the smell in my mouth as though I was actually breathing in the smoke. Looking around, there was nothing to indicate where the smell was coming from – no clouds of smoke or any haze in the air. There is a Catholic girls’ school about 200 yards from the spot, so I thought perhaps they were having a lunch-time Mass (though I’m told that Mass would normally be over by then) and a gust of wind had brought the scent to me.

However, at around 7pm that day, as I waited for a train at Waterloo station, the smell struck me again, but this time the sensation of the smoke was so strong that I coughed. I moved slightly to see if a cloud of beatification was following me, and the sensation passed just as quickly. Again, there was no obvious reason for the smell – no maverick thurible-waving priests on platform for or sudden outbreaks of religious fervour by the Sock Shop. Nor is there a church anywhere remotely close to where I was standing.

I am at a loss to explain the occurrences. Can any reader shed light on what might have been happening? Should I expect outbreaks of stigmata in due course? Jonathan Ratty, Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey.

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  FT140: I left a party with my date around midnight one snowless winter evening. We hadn’t been smoking or drinking. There was a light frost. As we walked down a very well-lit street in a neighbourhood with small houses and large yards, I saw what I thought was a young man sitting on his porch. He appeared to be tanned – I took him to be Hispanic – and was wearing dark pants but no shirt. It was just too cold to be lounging about without one’s shirt. I glanced over at the house as we passed by.

The image of the man sort of "slid" as I approached, the shadows and contours moving against each other in three dimensions, like an animated cubist painting. When I was directly in front of the house, the shadows had stopped, and there, sitting right where I thought there had been a shirtless man, was an ordinary black cat. It was sitting on the same patio sofa on which I thought I had seen the man. All the lighting around it was the shape and colour I thought it should be – except the man had rearranged into a cat. Jeffrey M Nolan, Toronto, Ontario.

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 FT143: I was interested to read Kevin Groves’ account of the strange sound he heard in the woodland which resembled distant children’s voices [FT120:52]. I had a similar experience about three or four years ago. My fossil collecting took me to a remote valley near Hay-on-Wye on the Welsh border. I followed a public right-of-way which ran parallel to a stream in the valley below. The path is little used, but occasionally you encounter visiting walkers. I now the owner of the surrounding land and have his permission to go their any time to collect fossils.

The path turns up a side valley after about three quarters of a mile and eventually crosses a stream. It then heads steeply uphill to open ground. Just as the path turns into the side valley another short path leads down to the stream. I followed this for a few yards until I came to an outcrop of rock, the target of my journey. The main path ran about 20-25ft (6-8m) above this outcrop. There were a few large rocks nearby and I decided to set about these with my hammer, conscious of the stream babbling away in the background.

I immediately began to feel uncomfortable and lonely, and had a feeling of being watched, but I carried on. I was relieved to hear the sound of children playing, which seemed to come from the open ground across the side valley and beyond the trees. As Kevin describes, the sound appears to be almost out of earshot. As I worked I expected to see a troupe of children appear, perhaps led by an adult or two, but the sounds disappeared and I felt another wave of loneliness sweep over me.

There was a thud to my left and I looked to see a stone the size of a walnut roll down the bank. I had no doubt that this missile had been thrown or dropped from a height and was certain that someone was playing a trick on me. I could not see the path directly above me and in an instant I grabbed my tools and rucksack and ran up to investigate. There was no-one to be seen. If the missile had come through the trees it would have struck some foliage and I would have heard it earlier, so I concluded that it was dropped from a height.

Somewhat unnerved, I beat a hasty retreat back up the path the way I had originally come hoping that I might catch up with the culprits, but I met no-one. All this happened in early summer as there was no thick undergrowth as yet although the trees were in leaf. Roderick Williams, Brecon, Powys.

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FT144: At 1am on 18 December in Tweed Heads, a town in NSW close to the border with Queensland, I saw a mango fall from clear skies and land almost at my feet, before bouncing several times across gravel. Closer observation revealed that it was unripe, unpunctured by teeth and dry, hence unlikely to have been dropped by a flying fox. This is further indicated by the absence of any flying foxes when the fruit fell, and the lack of any momentum, other than downwards, imparted to the fruit. The following night at 10pm in similar circumstances, another mango fell at my feet, this time on grass.

Since I don’t like mangoes, is this some sort of cosmic joke I just hope it’s not a phantom greengrocer. Phillip Ellis, Tweed Heads, New South Wales.

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 FT144: On a cold November morning in 1993, when I was 25, I took a walk near Walesby Woods near Market Rasen, Lincolnshire. Suddenly an odd feeling came over me and I thought I must get back to the car, parked about a mile away. At that time I weighed about 17 stone, not built for speed, but I ran all the way and I have never run so fast in my life. I drove wildly for about 10 miles or so, then pulled off the road and felt fine. I don’t know why I panicked like that. Andrew J Lucas, Scartho, Lincolnshire.

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 FT146: The article "The Landscape of Panic" [FT141:30] left me tingling with familiarity. I can’t recall the date exactly, but it was about the spring of 1997. Myself and four friends had decided early one Saturday that we were going to travel from our homes in Hull to a friend’s "house-leaving" party in Nottingham. It was already dark when we gathered at my house for departure. Just then there was a weather newsflash on TV – something like blanket fog across the Midlands; lightning storms on the south coast; hail on the Thames.

We hit the fog earlier than expected in South Yorkshire. As I was driving, I felt increasingly uneasy. The others seemed to be unaffected. The feeling continued to grow and I asked if I could turn off the stereo because it was giving me the creeps. I was surprised at the nods of agreement. By the time we go to the M62, down to 40mph (64km/h), the fog was hitting us with random clouds of doom and I was hanging on at the wheel, having an awful time, while the others sat in silence.

Then came the moment of ultimate panic. A wave of cold descended on me as our car was passed by a white stretch limo. It felt like the devil himself had just passed us by. I sank into my seat as if I was hoping not to be spotted while enduring waves of sheer terror. I thought I was going to die in that fog.

When we arrived at Nottingham, I was surprised by the number of crazy travel stories people told at the party. One group described most of the drivers on theA1 that night as "complete nutters". They passed one accident and then witnessed a further two in quick succession, as they occurred, before they left for a B road in fear of their lives. That night there was definitely more than just fog in the air. Karl Arthur, Hove, East Sussex.

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 FT147: About seven summers ago, my wife and I noted a strange atmospheric phenomenon while driving through traffic in Augusta, Georgia. We happened to look up in the sky at about the same time and noted a fine, straight, and very dark line bisecting the sky in a north-south direction. I pulled into a parking lot and we got out to observe it and be sure it wasn’t something on the windshield of the car. We noted that, while we could not judge its altitude, it cut through the few clouds and vapour trails and appeared to extend to the horizon. We are certain that it was not an overhead power line or support cable of any sort. Have readers heard of such a phenomenon or have any suggestions of where I could look to do research on this? Miguel Rodriguez and Dawn Lewandowski (by email).