WEFOUNDScottish Ghost Stories


The Canterville Ghost is a ghost story with a difference. It takes place in an English country house, Canterville Chase, which for centuries has been said to be haunted. When a rich American called Mr Otis moves into the house with his wife and children, Lord Canterville feels he should warn them about Sir Simon, the resident ghost. However, the Otis family aren’t afraid of ghosts and no matter how hard Sir Simon tries, they simply refuse to be frightened!

For anyone reading this review and thinking this book is not for you because you’re scared of ghost stories, I can promise you that it’s really not scary at all – I would describe it as more of a comedy and a clever satire. Wilde juxtaposes an atmospheric gothic setting, the typical British ‘haunted house’, with a practical American family who have an amusing way of reacting to the appearance of Sir Simon.

Right in front of him he saw, in the wan moonlight, an old man of terrible aspect. His eyes were as red burning coals; long grey hair fell over his shoulders in matted coils; his garments, which were of antique cut, were soiled and ragged, and from his wrists and ankles hung heavy manacles and rusty gyves.

The Canterville Ghost is a ghost story with a difference. It takes place in an English country house, Canterville Chase, which for centuries has been said to be haunted. When a rich American called Mr Otis moves into the house with his wife and children, Lord Canterville feels he should warn them about Sir Simon, the resident ghost. However, the Otis family aren’t afraid of ghosts and no matter how hard Sir Simon tries, they simply refuse to be frightened!

For anyone reading this review and thinking this book is not for you because you’re scared of ghost stories, I can promise you that it’s really not scary at all – I would describe it as more of a comedy and a clever satire. Wilde juxtaposes an atmospheric gothic setting, the typical British ‘haunted house’, with a practical American family who have an amusing way of reacting to the appearance of Sir Simon.

Right in front of him he saw, in the wan moonlight, an old man of terrible aspect. His eyes were as red burning coals; long grey hair fell over his shoulders in matted coils; his garments, which were of antique cut, were soiled and ragged, and from his wrists and ankles hung heavy manacles and rusty gyves.

Ok here goes! I worked in a pub on the West coast of Scotland in a small fishing village when I moved over from Australia. It was fairly run down and one of the first buildings in the area aside from the old “blackhouses” which are all but a memory now. It was a great place and full of characters.

Time ticks on and STILL no sign of this woman emerging from the loo. I had not taken my eyes off the toilet door as I thought perhaps this chick was a nutter and wanted to know why she was in the pub when it was closed. After 15minutes I started to worry that something was wrong so I tentatively edged the door open and called in “excuse me are you alright in there” and was greeted with three empty toilet stalls and no sign of anyone at all. The windows are all barred as they are on ground level. I felt my stomach lurch. I looked around all of the stalls and pushed and pulled on all of the bars but they were welded in place. There were no crawl spaces etc.

Three nights later as we were closing up I told my work mate about my encounter and as we stood at the opposite end of the bar chatting over a dozen glasses slid off the shelf and into the sink as if in slow motion one after the other. None of the glasses were at the edge of the shelf, the shelf was not coming away from the wall. We put a pool ball on the shelf and it didn’t roll off. GULP! We then locked up and literally ran out without finishing prepping for the morning.


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