An active member of the former Borley Ghost Society, he and his colleague and friend Paul Adams have both visited Borley many times over the last few years together, carrying out original research into the haunting and its history. He is also a photographer and guitarist. In 1982 he wrote the theme music to the film Expresso Splasho and has also staged photographic exhibitions in London. Eddie Brazil lives with his wife and daughter in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire.

‘The Most Haunted House in England’

When I was a youngster I was a reluctant school-goer.  Wet Monday mornings were the worst times.  Trudging through the miserable streets of south east London en route to the gates of St. Michael’s C of E Secondary Modern with only the prospect of double maths, double science and a dollop of PE was enough to see my normally cheerful demeanour evaporate as fast a raindrop in the desert.  Half way along the route to school I would quickly dodge down the nearest back alley, head in the opposite direction and escape a day of stuffy classrooms, sarcastic teachers and the well aimed blackboard eraser.

Despite my reluctance to attend lessons I nonetheless spent my time ‘hoping the wag’ in our local library reading.  There in the quiet, plush hush amidst the bookshelves one could keep warm on bleak winter days letting the imagination run free until the library clock ticked on to four and it was time to return home.  Being Irish and raised in a household where tales of ghosts, banshees and haunted houses were the norm I soon fostered a love for the paranormal.  As soon as I entered the library I would make for the supernatural section and eagerly scan the shelves for any new addition.

One particular Monday in 1968, as I browsed the books my eye was caught by a title, ‘The Most Haunted House in England’ by Harry Price.  I immediately took it down and found a seat in an out of the way corner of the reference section.  The title intrigued me; in a land seemingly awash with haunted houses, for one building in particular to acquire the mantle of England’s ‘most haunted’ had me eagerly thumbing through the pages.  The house was Borley Rectory, situated in a remote part of Essex some sixty miles north east of London.  I remember looking at the book’s black and white photos of this strange mansion, in particular the famous view of the house taken from the lawn in 1929 and being immediately captivated by what I saw.  Here was a house that looked ordinary yet, to me, somewhat sinister.  Behind the windows and doors, I was sure, lay mystery and secrets, and I wanted to know all about it.

I spent that day reading the book from cover to cover and left the library at four that afternoon with a burning desire to go to Borley.  Despite the fact that the Rectory no longer existed I still wanted to see where Harry Price had been, where Cartwright had seen the nun, where all those people I had read about and had experienced the paranormal had walked.  To say I was hooked would have been the understatement of the year.  Yet being only twelve years of age and with pocket money of half a crown, (12 pence in today’s money) per week, Borley, although only 60 miles from London might as well have been on the dark side of the moon.  I had to make do with re-reading Prices book and laying my hands on anything I could find to do with Borley.

The following day my miserable trudge to school was made somewhat lighter by my thoughts about Borley.  I remember thinking I didn’t care for football, TV or anything else; only Borley and its ghosts.  It also struck me what a wonderful life it would be if I could become a ghost hunter and make a living from investigating haunted houses.  I also entertained the idea that if I could write about my experiences and become a successful author on the paranormal then everything would be perfect.  Yet growing up in the truly mean streets of south east London, such youthful fantasies of literary ghost hunting fame did not sit well with the realities of where I and many of my contemporaries were destined when we left school; namely the factory floor, building site or dole office.  The kids I ran with in the streets of Camberwell and Peckham did not write books or go to university; they stole cars and went to prison.  As one of their number, albeit an honest one, my literary aspirations would seem to be wishful thinking.  Nonetheless, my passion for the ‘most haunted house in England’ remained.

It was three years later that I got the opportunity to make my pilgrimage to Borley.  With three friends, camping equipment and religiously saved part-time job money, the train was boarded at Liverpool Street Station and the journey north east to Essex began.  Yet it was an adventure that was notable for two incidents, neither of which were to do with the paranormal.  We arrived at Sudbury and began the two-mile trek through the quiet Saturday afternoon lanes to Borley.  As we neared Rodbridge Corner we were caught in a freak summer hailstorm that soaked us all to the skin.  Undaunted we doggedly ploughed on.  Yet soon after our drenching as we laboured along the road a vehicle drew up beside us.  We stopped and looked perplexed as a police officer emerged from a squad car and eyed us up.  Who were we?  Where were we going? and what did we have in our rucksacks?

Our replies seemed not to convince the officer.  In short we were put in the car and taken back to Sudbury Police Station where we questioned further.  It appeared that four males had been seen throwing apples at cars on the Long Melford road and us in our drenched, windswept state seemed to fit the bill as the hooligan scrumpers.  Eventually, with the police satisfied we were not a danger to life and limb in sedate Sudbury we were allowed to go, but not before a warning.  “I hear you are going up to Borley?” the officer enquired.  We nodded eagerly.  “I would watch myself up there lads, especially after dark.  Strange things go on up at that place, people have seen lights in the church at night.”  At once a beaming smile spread across my face.  It seemed that we ‘not so famous 4’ had stepped straight into the pages of a ‘Famous Five’ story.  Even better was the offer from the Sergeant of a lift up to Borley for, as he put it, “the inconvenience caused.”

And so it emerged that after years of yearning to go to Borley my first visit to the site of the ‘most haunted house in England’ saw me and my pals arrive outside the church in a police car.  I suppose coming from the bad lands of south east London it was a suitably appropriate introduction to the site of Harry Price’s most famous case.  Before departing the policeman offered his advice: “You take care boys, and watch out for those ghosts!”  All that was missing was Timmy the dog.

Borley did not disappoint.  One is always wary that our expectations of what we read or see in books of a destination we yearn to go to will not turn out as we would like. Perhaps a block of flats, or a motorway just to the left or right of the idyllic vista presented by a timeless black and white photograph and conveniently forgotten by the author in their description will ruin the preconceived idea and picture we have of a location.  Yet Borley was all I thought it would be.

As the police car sped away down Hall Lane we were left standing in an eerily, deserted village.  To our right stood the church.  In front of us leaned the centuries old tithe barn.  Over to the left was the old coach house and beyond that was the former site of Borley Rectory.  It didn’t matter that the house was no longer there.  This is where it had once stood.  I found myself running from place to place like a demented looney.  This is the place where Fred Cartwright saw the Nun, I excitedly informed my friends.  This is where the Rev. Bull walked, where Price stood, where Marianne Foyster, Mabel Smith, Mark Kerr-Pearse, Sidney Glanville, the Coopers, and all those I had read about in Price’s book had once been.  Yet my mates seemed not to understand my excitement.  “Where are the ghosts?” they moaned.  I didn’t reply but to myself I thought - they are all around us.

That night we pitched our tents in a field on the north side of the church and in true Famous Five fashion had a bumper midnight fry-up feast.  We didn’t see any ghosts or experience any paranormal activity.  My chums were disappointed.  The way I had sold Borley and its ghosts to them back in London prior to our expedition gave them the chilling expectation that they were in for a night of hair-raising excitement.  As the witching hour chimed we sat around our campsite fire and made do with trying to scare each other with tales of spooks, phantoms and floating wraiths, each story more outrageous than the last.  Soon the fire died down and my pals retired to their tents to sleep.  I remained awake and chose to walk around the churchyard and out onto the road in the hope I might catch a glimpse of the Nun, or hear the rattling coach come galloping down the lane.  But all was quiet in this magical village.

As dawn broke over Borley that Sunday morning I made my way down to the spot where Fred Cartwright saw the Nun back in the autumn of 1927.  Here I waited, imagining the journeyman carpenter labouring up Hall Lane en-route to his work.  Fred wasn’t there, neither was the Nun and the rectory had long gone, but in my mind they were all around me.  Eventually the shouts and laughter of my mates woken from their tents broke my reverie and we were soon packing up our things and heading home.  But Borley had tightened its grip on me.

Since that weekend back in 1971 the nagging urge to contribute my own views in book form on this remarkable of haunting remained with me.  Yet hadn’t everything already been said on the ‘most haunted house in England’?  There were Price’s books; Dingwall, Goldney and Hall’s critical 1956 survey; countless articles and newspaper inches devoted to the case.  If more was to be written about Borley it had to be fresh and different from all previous studies.

In September 1972 I once again returned to Borley, this time on my own.  I spent the day taking photographs and soaking up the atmosphere.  I experienced nothing untoward during my visit but nonetheless returned home satisfied with a good days research.  Some time later when my pictures were returned from the developers I was surprised to find that one of the prints of a view across Borley churchyard contained the image of a grey misty figure; a figure that I did not see when I pressed the shutter on my camera.  I couldn’t believe what I saw in the picture - had I really taken a photograph of a ghost?  I was shaking with excitement as I showed the photo to my Dad.  He at once agreed with me.  “I think you have photographed a ghost son.”  What was I to do?  Who could I show it to?  Who would be interested?  One name sprung to mind - Peter Underwood.

Peter was, and still is, Britain’s foremost ghost hunter, author of countless books, articles and essays on the paranormal.  He had personally investigated Borley Rectory and also corresponded with Harry Price.  He had also visited almost every major haunted location in the country.  Surely, I thought Peter was the right person to send the photograph to.  I quickly looked up the address where he could be contacted and was curious to note that it was a club called the Savage situated near Whitehall in London.  To my surprise and delight Peter promptly got back to me with his views on the photo.  He thought it strange and was happy to add it to his Borley dossier.  After his first reply, Britain’s premier ghost hunter and myself, the novice, began to correspond regularly. I told Peter of my interest in the ‘most haunted house in England’ and he informed me of his own visits to Borley.

One afternoon in 1973, as I read Peters latest letter a rather grand idea crossed my mind.  At the time it seemed a far off pipe dream but one which I nevertheless entertained. Wouldn’t it be great if I could write a book on Borley with Peter Underwood?  I, being a keen photographer, would take the pictures whilst Peter could put all his Borley knowledge into the text.  Even at the tender and still impressionable age of 17, I summoned up enough bravado to think that it could become the Borley book to end all Borley books and be viewed as the standard reference work on this remarkable story.  Yet my pipe dream was to evaporate when Pete told me his latest project, The Ghosts of Borley, written with Paul Tabori was to be published later that year.  Although I realised that Peter’s book would great, it would also possibly be the last word on England’s most haunted house.  What more was there to say on Borley?  My own desire to add to the literature would not now be needed.

Nevertheless I continued to visit Borley throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s.  During the 1990s, family commitments and work curtailed my visits to Essex.  However, two things were to happen later on in the decade that would re-awaken my Borley book dream and rekindle my friendship with Peter.  One was the advent of the Internet and the communication revolution.  The other was meeting an cheery, indefatigable and veritable walking encyclopaedia of information on Borley and Harry Price who would not only become a fellow Borley traveller but also a close and much valued friend – this was Paul Adams.

I first met Paul through a Borley website; one of literally dozens dedicated to the ‘most haunted house in England’ which had sprung up as the new communication highway had blossomed during the ‘90s and into the new Millennium.  It would prove to be fortuitous that Paul and myself, unaware of each other at the time, and faced with an almost endless array of Borley sites to choose from, decided to log on to one maintained by Vincent O’Neil, the adopted son of none other than Marianne Foyster who had lived at Borley Rectory during the early 1930s.

Soon Paul and I became members of O’Neil’s Borley Ghost Society, contributing articles, essays, photographs and experiences to be shared with other Borley enthusiasts.  We were also pleased to learn that some of our fellow society members were household names - spoon bender Uri Geller, writer and philosopher Colin Wilson, and my old correspondent, veteran ghost hunter Peter Underwood were all Honorary Members of the society.  Vincent O’Neil, who styled himself ‘The Son of Borley’, set up his site in 1998 after being made aware of his mother’s past following years of ignorance about her Borley connection.  The website became a vast and valuable repository of information on the ‘most haunted house in England’, gaining thousands of hits per year.  One contribution I decided to offer the site for comment and views was the photograph of the strange figure I shot in Borley churchyard back in 1972.  It was Paul’s positive review and analysis of the picture, which buoyed me up no end after other society members declined to comment on the photo.

Paul and I continued to contribute to the site and correspond with each other.  But it came as a shock to us both when late in 2004 we learned that Vincent O’Neil had inexplicably wound up his Borley Ghost Society and discontinued his website project. We were both saddened to see that an important and much needed pool of Borley knowledge was no longer available.  Yet I hadn’t counted on Paul’s indomitable attitude to such disappointments.  “I know what we’ll do,” said Paul, “We’ll set up our own Harry Price and Borley site.”  And so the Harry Price website was born and has grown to become the major source of information on Price and Borley Rectory on the Internet.

As the site grew, Paul and I toyed with the idea of asking Peter Underwood if he would honour us by writing an introduction to our site.  Paul was aware of my correspondence with Peter but we were also sure he would be so busy with his own projects that all we could expect was a polite decline.  Nonetheless I wrote to Peter with our request and was gob smacked when he not only replied positively but also said he remembered me from our correspondence back in the 1970s.  With Peter Underwood 's Introduction To Harry Price , and the site gaining more and more hits we went from strength to strength.  It occurred to us that such was the interest still in the story of Borley Rectory and its ghosts that the idea of another book on Borley might well be possible. Yet we were both aware that since Peter Underwood and Paul Tabori had published The Ghosts of Borley in 1973, a further four books on the haunting had appeared - The Widow of Borley, a sceptical account of the haunting centring around a character assassination of Marianne Foyster in 1992; Ivan Banks’s The Enigma of Borley Rectory in 1996, Peter Underwood’s Borley Postscript in 2001 and Ted Babbs’s Borley Rectory: The Final Analysis in 2003.   Clearly it seemed that there wasn’t much left to say on the haunting and it seemed that Babbs might well have had the final word on Borley.  But we were both wrong.

When Paul phoned me while on holiday with his family in August 2006 with not only an idea of the format for a new Borley book, but also a working title The Borley Rectory Companion, I immediately knew it was what we were looking for.  Since then the BRC has gained a momentum of its own.  The greatest thrill for both of us was when Peter Underwood said he would be happy to join us as a co-author.  In November 2006, Paul and I were invited to the Savage Club to discuss the progress of the book with Peter.  It seemed unreal to me that 34 years after I had written to Peter Underwood at the Savage Club with my pipe dream hopes of writing a Borley book with him, I now walked through its doors to discuss that very thing.  Twelve months following that meeting and with the project substantially complete, the book was accepted for publication by Sutton Publishing.  That great news was made even sweeter when Paul phoned and said Colin Wilson would be doing the Foreword.

Forty years on from that wet Monday in 1968 when I sat in my local library and discovered the ‘most haunted house in England’, a new book on Borley is to be published.  I am proud to be part of its creation and would like to thank Peter Underwood and my old friend Paul Adams for making the dreams of the kid who ran in the mean streets of Camberwell come true.