In 1969, strange occurrences were reported at St. Peter’s Church in Radford. Doors would open on their own, and on one occasion, a heavy candlestick mysteriously flew across the room with no apparent cause. The vicar at the time, Rev. James Lemon, remained unbothered by these oddities, even as some incidents happened in full view of the congregation.
During one sermon, the vestry door near Lemon started to rattle and open, sending a choirboy to check, let the apparent person is and no one was there! all outer doors were locked.
In another instance, a loud crash revealed that a brass candlestick had somehow moved from the Communion table to the floor, positioned carefully away from wine and Communion vessels. James explained how this was found in the pews beside a blind person who was present praying.
Other strange occurrences included a choirmaster feeling a presence brush past him, a curtain moving as if by itself, and a mysterious sound of tinkling bells from behind the altar during a service.
When asked if he would move the spirit on, the Reverend referred to his faith, that it says should not engage with spirits. “Let it have its fun”.
The Old Salutation
One of my favourite haunts in the city centre, as I am at heart a rocker with a love of metal and classic rock! The Old Salutation more affectionately known as “The Sal” rocks out with live music many nights of the week. Has a history of more than 600 years on the site, has seen Cromwell enter through its doors to more contemporary legends like Bruce Dickinson.
The Nottingham Ghost Walk begins its tour from this famed Maid Marian Way location, before making its way to the Castle and Ye Trip to Jerusalem.
Of the characters said to be within the walls of The Sal, a young spirit “Rosie”, an urchin girl of about 4-5 years of age. As with many of the accounts in the Phenomenal Nottinghamshire, some are my own. I would not say, I have seen Rosie, however I would say I reacted to a small blond girl. Was coming from the bar, pint in each hand, heading towards the Charles Snug, got spun around with the people flow and movement as I turned back on course for the snug, had to quickly raise the glasses from the waist level I was carrying them to avoid what seemed like a small girl dashing across before me. A mere fraction of a second, more instinctual reaction to not losing a pint, complete with a “woah”, then alas no-one!
John “Crumbledore” Caulton of The Sals team took my son Jayce and I, for a behind-the-scenes tour, leading deep into the caves below—far from the bustling crowds of the bar and familiar attractions above. As we ventured through the cool and damp tunnels. Punctuated by the occasional hum of distant voices or the rustling of unseen creatures. These subterranean paths twisted and turned, each shadowy corner revealing secrets hidden from the average visitor. In a side cavern, John paused, gesturing toward a peculiar sight—a space that seemed to pulse with its own quiet energy. Here, a heartwarming and curious tradition had taken root, growing steadily in recent years. Strewn across the rocky floor and nestled among craggy outcrops was an array of toys, dolls, and teddies, their colours and textures offering a stark contrast to the cold stone surroundings. Some were well-loved and threadbare, others pristine and shining, their wide, glassy eyes seeming to stare back at us.This improvised collection formed a sort of shrine, a playful yet reverent gesture to Rosie, the unseen spirit or essence said to inhabit and play in these depths. Locals and visitors alike had taken to leaving these offerings, perhaps as tokens of goodwill, or as gifts to a friend they’d never meet. It was both whimsical and poignant—a testament to the human urge to connect, even with the mysterious and intangible.
The other at the table
Am reminded of another experience at The Sal, as I write this. Several years ago, a gathering for strange stories with Nottingham actor and storyteller Dylan Knight. Perhaps 8-10 of us sharing Nottinghams various spooky stories over some pints, before deciding to wander over to The Trip. We gathered ourselves and walking through Castle Gate towards the famed Robin Hood statue. The collective, was like are we missing someone? 3 people in the party described a person with long hair and a leather jacket sat to my left at the table bench. The rest of us were in a state of perplexity and curiosity, we did not see this person! Those that did remember this person, claimed he was quiet and didn’t speak. I don’t recall the gentleman. Yet we collectively did recognize our party was smaller, everyone was accounted for. Made for excellent conversation!
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PN#11 Saint Peters Church, Radford and The Old Salutation Inn
