Miskin Manor Hotel.

Miskin. Nr Cardiff.

Telephone 01443 224204.

Despite its proximity to the M4 which is but a stone’s throw away, the lovely and atmospheric Miskin Manor Hotel is a world removed from the hustle and bustle of the 20th century. The manor itself has enjoyed an eventful and chequered history that dates back to the 10th century, although the current house came into being in 1857 when the estate was purchased by David Williams, a well known Welsh Bard and philanthropist. The house has survived two major fires, one in 1922 which destroyed all but the external walls and a similarly devastating conflagration in 1952, shortly after its conversion from wartime hospital to flats.

Restored, it remained as flats until 1985 when it was transformed into a luxury hotel, in which capacity under the ownership of the Rosenberg family, it still operates today. Lost amidst a tranquil profusion of stunning greenery, the Miskin Manor is blessed with a timeless ambience which makes it a delightful rural retreat in which to while away a peaceful and relaxing few days, as in the case of its guests, or for the whole of eternity, as in the case of its ghosts.

The most active ghost to roam the interior of Miskin Manor is that of a ghostly lady who appears regularly in the bar area. She is a harmless revenant who can be counted on to put in an appearance most nights between midnight and 1am. The hotel porter has long grown used to her appearances interrupting the well earned cup of tea he sits down to enjoy in the bar at around 1.40am. He simply watches as her hazy figure drifts from the drawing room over to the bar opposite and slowly disappears into thin area. Ben Rosenberg believes that she was a former resident of the house who is simply following a regular path that she once walked in life. “There used to be a staircase where the bar stands today,” he told me, “so she is evidently coming from the drawing room and going up the stairs just as she did when she lived here.” Psychic medium Norie Miles brought a team of researchers to the hotel in June 2004 to see if they could uncover any clues as to the identity of the mysterious figure. Although nothing actually appeared to those present, everyone noticed a sudden change in atmosphere at the time when the mysterious visitation is known to occur. An hour or so later she and Ben Rosenberg were walking along a back corridor when they happened to comment on the lack of activity that night. No sooner had they done so, than a heavy picture was lifted off the wall and thrown onto the floor in front of them as if one of the ghostly residents was desperate to make the point that, just because they couldn’t be seen it didn’t mean that they weren’t about!

Admittedly the name of this historic manor house doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue, but on virtually every other count it is truly an impressive place. To visit it is not so much to be transported back in time as to find yourself pitched into a time-warp where the calendar has frozen in 1645. This was the year when the house’s owner, Colonel Edward Pritchard, switched his allegiance from the Royalist to the Parliamentarian cause; and this is the year that visitors step in to when they stray over the threshold of the solid grey building that was erected in 1530 on the site of an earlier medieval house. ‘Servants’ in period costume greet and escort you around their ‘master’s’ house, and chat amiably away about the events and gossip of 1645, doing so in their interpretation of the language of the day.

By contrast, when the dark winter nights drape themselves across the time-scarred walls, and the wild winds murmur around the windows and doors, the house echoes to the steady tramp of nervous footsteps as bands of visitors set off by candlelight to seek the ghosts that wander what is widely acknowledged as the most haunted house in South Wales. “Llancaiach Fawr Manor is one of the spookiest and most atmospheric places I’ve ever been to, “ Paranormal Investigator Phil Wyman told me, “and when the lights go out and it’s pitch black, there is an overwhelming sense of desolation,”

The grand staircase, situated to the left as you enter is haunted by two spectral children who sometimes appear and then disappear, but who are mostly heard rather than seen as they enjoy a ghostly game, their phantom whoops and giggles clearly audible to bemused witnesses. Several ghostly children are apparently loose inside the house and seem to delight in playing childish pranks on staff and visitors alike. The costumed female guides have long grown used to their aprons falling to the ground at the most inopportune moments when their bows have been untied by invisible impish hands. A steward who was once descending the house’s green spiral staircase placed his hand on the railing and suddenly jumped back in surprise when he felt a cold childish hand beneath his!

The manor’s kitchen is haunted by a lady in a white blouse who appears to be baking bread and who is generally held to be the ghost of Mattie, a former housekeeper who died under tragic circumstances, although nobody knows exactly what those circumstances were. Her bedroom, situated on the upper floor, is acknowledged to be the building’s most haunted room. A feeling of crushing sadness seems to hang in the air and many visitors - tough Australian Rugby players and case-hardened senior police officers included, - have been overcome by emotion on entering her room and have been forced to leave with tears streaming down their faces. Sensibly the house’s custodians and guides have chosen not to attempt to come up with a story to explain away this strange phenomenon, but are content to let the rooms melancholic feel speak for itself and will only add by way of explanation that whatever the fate that befell Mattie, it must have been “something awful.”

The most bizarre of the regular inexplicable occurrence are the disembodied voices that always seem to be chatting one room ahead of people. They are very distinct, but when those who hear them actually enter the room, they appear to have moved in to the next room or even gone upstairs where their chatter is still clearly perceptible. On one occasion a film crew spent an entire day filming inside the house for what was apparently going to be a long television piece, and naturally the staff were excited at the prospect of such exposure. But when the programme was aired they were puzzled by the shortness of the segment. They duly contacted the television company and were told that much of the film’s soundtrack had been spoilt by ‘foreign’ voices talking very loudly and drowning out the presenters and interviewees. No-one at the time of filming had heard these voices and the reference to ‘foreign’ was probably the London Production company’s interpretation of the native Welsh tongue that the mysteriously vociferous intruders appeared to be speaking in!

A man in what has been described as Tudor/Stuart costume who has been seen sitting on a window ledge in the Great Hall is thought to be the ghost of Colonel Pritchard, and it is presumed that his are the ghostly footsteps sometimes heard pacing back and forth across the room’s dais. During the house’s refurbishment in the 1980‘s, the ceiling in the kitchen directly beneath the Great Hall was plastered using traditional methods and materials. No sooner had the task been completed than a portion of the plaster came loose and fell down. The section was re-plastered but again it came away. Indeed it fell down several more times before experts were called in to investigate. They concluded that their was no fault in the workmanship, nor in the quality of the materials being used. Infact the only possible explanation they could think of was that vibrations from the Great Hall above must be responsible. Interestingly it was just one portion of the ceiling that was affected and that section was the one directly beneath the dais where the ghostly footsteps were known to walk.

The Skirrid Mountain Inn.

 Llanfihangel .

The oldest reference to this delightful hostelry, nestling within the shadow of the Skirrid Mountain, is in 1110 when John Crowther was sentenced to death for sheep stealing and was hanged from a beam of the inn. Over the next eight hundred years 182 felons would meet a similar fate, dangling by the neck over the buildings stairwell. An unusual style of customer relations you may think, until you realise that, as well as serving up frothing tankards to thirsty travellers, the premises also doubled as a courthouse. Until, in the mid 19th century, it pulled out of the execution business and has since dedicated itself to the sustenance of the living.

Needless to say, with such a sinister pedigree, The Skirrid Mountain Inn can offer many a ghostly tale to chill the blood. The spirits of those executed here, often make their presences known in a rather direct and disturbing manner. Several people have felt the overwhelming sensation, of an invisible noose being slipped around their necks and have been alarmed to feel it tightening. Although, they always manage to break free from the malign grip, they bear the distinct impression of the marks of the rope for several days afterwards.

Another ghost to haunt the old and, in parts, spooky property is that of woman who, although never seen, is both felt and heard by staff as she rustles invisibly past them, her progress marked by a distinct chill in the air. In the 1990’s, during a live radio broadcast from the inn, a medium was asked for his impressions. He said that he sensed a young woman who had died of consumption, possibly in her early thirties. Realising that she had no way of proving or disproving the statement, the landlady thanked him politely for the information. Several months later, however, a couple researching their family tree paid the landlady a visit. They told her that they were seeking information on one of their ancestors, Harry Price, who had owned the premises during the mid 18th century. They then revealed that his wife, Fanny Price, had died of consumption in her early thirties, and was buried in the local churchyard, where she still lies today!

The Interior photo of the Skirrid is the copyright of GBHW www.gbhw.co.uk  and is used with their kind permission. It may not be reproduced without their express permission in writing.  

Newton House huddles at the heart of a glorious sylvan landscape, the story of which stretches back through over one thousand years of Welsh history. Originally it was the site of the Rhys family’s castle, the ruins of which still loom large over Dinefwr Park. They were descendents of the ancient Princes of Wales and in the early sixteenth century they Anglicised their name to Rice as the Welsh Aristocracy was absorbed into the English with the coming of the Tudors under Henry V11. The house as it stands today was built in the 1660’s by Edward Rice, although its present façade was added in Victorian times. It is a strange looking house of solid grey stone, its corners crowned by four tall towers each capped by a sloping slate roof, and as you approach it you just know that the place must have a ghost story or two to tell.

It is haunted by a ‘White Lady,’ who is thought to be the wronged wraith of Elinir Cavendish, first cousin of the Lady of the house in the 1720’s, although some versions of the story say she was her sister. ^.Tradition maintains that she was being forced to marry a man that she didn’t love, and in order to escape his clutches she sought sanctuary with her family in Dinefwr Park. Incensed by the rejection, her spurned suitor gave chase and having caught up with her at Newton House, murdered her in cold blood.

Her ghost has walked the building ever since and appears to have been particularly active in the 1980’s, when the premises were occupied by a television facilities company. There was much talk of the house possessing a very strange atmosphere and during their tenure a number of television editors fell ill one after the other, which may have been completely co-incidental, but all the same gives pause for thought. Later on a director and an editor were both working in an edit suite when suddenly a young and very beautiful girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and proceeded to glide across the room before vanishing into a cupboard. They searched the area where she had disappeared but there was no sign of their mysterious visitor and they were left to contemplate the fact that they had been honoured by a visit from the spectral white Lady of Newton House.

Maes-y-Neuadd is a sturdy manor of solid Welsh granite and slate, that dates back to the 14th century, although the 16th, 18th and 20th centuries have all left their mark on its ancient fabric. Its name literally means ‘mansion in the meadow’ and the house certainly occupies a tranquil location, perched on a wooded hillside, high above the waters of Tremadog Bay and affording stunning views across the Snowdonia National Park. It now operates as a lovely country house hotel and boasts one haunted bedroom, the Morfa suite, in which guests can look forwarded to the enchanting possibility of being lulled into their slumbers by a female phantom of goodly intentions. She is thought to be the ghost of a former children’s nursemaid, and her attire of long gown and mobcap, certainly suggests that she was of the serving rather than the owning classes. Nobody who has seen her has found her to be in the least bit frightening or troublesome, indeed witnesses say that she has a very calming presence and emits an aura that helps them drift into a deep and restful sleep.

Castell Coch

Roch Castle.

Nr. Haverfordwest. Pembrokeshire

In the early 1300’s a witch prophesised that Adam de Rupe would die from the venomous bite of a serpent or adder unless he was able to avoid their fatal sting for a period of one year. Should he do so, he had nothing more to fear and would go on to live a long and happy life. Determined to survive, he built Roch castle atop an isolated, rocky outcrop and, having moved in to it highest storey, prepared to stay put for the next twelve months.

As mundane as his day- to-day existence was, he was consoled by the fact that no slithering agent of death would be able to get anywhere near him. Finally, the day of his release drew near. But then a particularly harsh spell of wintry weather settled upon the land and its icy winds turned his flesh blue and set his teeth chattering. He therefore ordered his manservant to fetch him some wood in order that a roaring fire might warm the last days of his confinement. But a snake had concealed itself amongst the logs and, as Adam de Rupe began stoking his fire, the creature suddenly sank its teeth into him and fulfilled the prophecy.

Following such auspicious beginnings, the castle’s history was relatively uneventful. The de Rupe family died out in 1420 and their stronghold passed through several owners until coming into the possession of the Walters family in the mid-17th century. During the Civil War the castle was garrisoned by the Royalists, and saw much action in 1644 when it was captured by the Parliamentarians, re-taken by the Royalists, before falling once more to Cromwell’s forces. Lucy Walters, who was born at Roch Castle in 1630, demonstrated her Royalist sympathies by becoming the mistress of Charles 11. She bore him a son, James, whom Charles made Duke of Monmouth and who would grow up to become the ill-fated leader of the 1685 Monmouth rebellion and end his days on the headsman’s block. Perhaps it is the fate of her son that brings Lucy Walters back to Roch Castle where, garbed in a white dress, passes effortlessly through locked doors.

Dylan Thomas’s Boathouse.

Devils Bridge