Passing the lawn grounds ahead of me all lit up, with its royal flag flapping in the wind was the Lincoln Castle, a landmark of the city and where the Magna Carta is still held today. Two hundred years ago this was the venue of public executions where thousands of tourists joined together to watch. What great entertainment went on there!

The strugglers Inn on the corner was the last drinking ‘hole’ for condemned prisoners before facing their destiny and executioner. Today, despite its ghastly history, it is a warm friendly place, open to all ‘hangers on’ *.
Now passing traditional public houses on the old Roman thoroughfare I was in Castle Square. Coming towards me in the cold, misty night air was a woman dressed in long black gown, with flowing grey hair, carrying a lantern, light shining. There was a strange aura and glow about her.

It was time to be scared; I was here for Lincoln’s now very famous ghost walk.
The walk, set in the castle square area and against the atmospheric backdrop of the cathedral, has been going for eight years now and is well acclaimed and recommended. It is very chilling and authentic unlike other ghost walks in other towns, which can consist of over-rehearsed, stilted monologues delivered by out of work actors making an easy bit of money.

The walk is well documented and publicised by the city’s tourism information centre, and has featured on local radio and Central news. Tourists from far a field are eager and excited to hear all about Lincoln’s spooky past and tales of the very sinister. Some Americans on the tour I was on were most enthusiastic and compelled by ghosts still haunting pubs and hotels, and even feeling sadness for a lady wrongly accused and hanged for murder.

The organiser of the ghost walk is Margaret Green, who’s been retelling tales for six years and she certainly is an authority on the hauntings of Lincolnshire. I met Mrs. Green before she entertained and scared more willing ghost hunters on the night before Halloween, to ask her a few questions.

I asked if people were genuinely scared by the ghost stories.

“ I wouldn’t say scared, more interested and intrigued ”, Margaret told me.
She went on to tell me of a lady from New Zealand who had joined her friend from Lincoln on the ghost walk and loved the experience. I asked her before starting the walk of her most famous ghost story.
“ One of the more well known ghost stories comes from the hotel behind us, the White Hart hotel. There are said to be numerous ghosts there; there is mop-cap girl, the ginger jar ghost, a lady who tucks children into bed and then there’s the sad room.” The images she created sent shivers through me. I’m certainly not staying in that establishment.

The ginger jar ghost is that of a small rounded gentleman seen in one of the third floor suites wearing a smoking jacket looking for his ginger jar. He appears wringing his hands pleading ‘ Please help me find my ginger jar’. The story is, he once owned the hotel and occupied the suite of rooms, which he now haunts.
After speaking to Mrs. Green and being sufficiently scared, I joined other hardy and brave souls on the walk, starting by the cathedral and feeling the ‘devil’s wind’ chill. We went on to hear stories of the headless drummer boy heard at the Territorial Army barracks, the ghost of Tom Otter and strange goings on and sightings in the Lincoln Castle. There were more strange happenings in the Magna Carte pub, the Wig and Mitre, the new landlord on his first day scared out of his wits by the ‘grandma ghost’.

One of the most haunted places in Lincoln in past history is Blackhorse tavern on Eastgate. Building work was recently carried out there. With all power turned off, lights repeatedly came on from a source that could never be identified. Spiritualist work was then undergone there, leading to the exorcising of 45 ghosts. Quite frightening you must admit.

We were coming to the end of the walk now; all of us ready to find a shelter from the pouring rain and cold air. We had about heard enough now. There were a number of students, listening intently in the group. I asked one, Anthony Howells, 20, from Manchester for a story he found most chilling.

“ The story of the disfigured highwayman said to haunt the Orangery bar of the White Hart hotel I found particularly scary and well told”, Anthony expressed, while commenting he was surprised how much he had enjoyed the walk.
The walk lasted an hour and a half and was told with great professionalism and authenticity. At this time of year it is more eerie and atmospheric. The tour included young children, fainthearted believers and some cynical sceptics, but it was difficult not to be gripped by some of the stories. All I wanted to do at the end of it was to sit in a warm public house, compose myself, relax, hoping not to be joined by any uninvited guests and hoping my glass would stay where it was.

* The term hangers originates from the people, mostly children who were paid by the condemned prisoners to grab their legs after their hanging took place, so hastening and speeding up their demise and exit. The hanging was usually a protracted, drawn out affair where the convicted person dangled and struggled for thirty or forty minutes.