The spirit of the stairs told in tug at clothing, sudden rush of jasmine perfume or laughter of children. Told in tobacco fug, in an undeniable, audible wheezing. Told in whispered curse or snide tutting. Told in sudden shove. Staircase spirits are rarely less than bold. – #CJosiffe, 1982 #Ghosts

Books are ghost magnets. This means every good library has it phantoms. A density of Dewey Decimal Classification is spirits what a saucer of beer is to slugs. Of course we understand ghosts desire to haunt libraries. Thousands of books and the time to read them is a heaven. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

Railway workers report the signal box at Lugford as haunted. Talk of a constant presence, of being scrutinised as they work. Talk of objects being moved, levers being pulled. Odd voices down the line. A place not haunted by dread, but by unwelcome intrusion. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

Of course most of this is insidious rumour. Reports of neighbours hearing footsteps, screams from empty flat above. Inexplicable mists coming through the ceiling. Nothing anyone wants to put on record. Yet we still look up, ask if something is stored in its psychic battery. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

We look up at rooms which have hosted murder and we wonder if they now hold ghosts. For we all know stories of places where spectral loops of trauma play. Townhouses turned to territory of terror. Properties that make estate agents shiver, that stay on the books. – #CJosiffe

The ghosted glass rarely offers comfort. The faces we see in it are usually hollow folk. Occasionally they may even be monstrous things. Either distorted manifestations of echoing trauma behind the pane or reflections of our own spectral travellers. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts

There are spirits of the stair that announce themselves in a sudden burst of perfume, laughter or unmistakable sound of children running up and down. Yet we must be honest, there are also stair spectres that shove. Predatory phantoms that delight in downfall. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts