Friday, October 15, 2010

Fizzy Friday: At Foxmount Country House, a high tech ghost

Our room is on the upper floor, second window in from the left.
When my husband and I travelled thoughout Ireland in 2008 we had the opportunity to stay in the beautiful Foxmount Country House, a Georgian period country manor on a working dairy farm which sits just outside of Waterford City in County Waterford. Our hosts David and Margaret Kent were most gracious and welcoming, and prepared an afternoon tea for us upon our arrival. The house is very elegant and we drank in every sight on the estate, including the beautiful gardens.

We arrived at the house mid-week and were the only guests in what is normally a fully booked bed and breakfast. I discovered very quickly that when you are accustomed to the noise of the metropolis, the complete quiet of the country can be, at first, a little unsettling, but once you relax you discover what it really means to be in a quiet place. There was no background noise, no white noise, no hotel lobby 'muzak'. It was heaven.

Our room on the upper floor of the house was dressed in period furniture, which I loved. We felt as though we had journeyed back in time. In the evening we ventured out for dinner and on our return very gladly settled into the soft down bed in our room. It had been a very long day with a lot of driving; I was really tired, and so quickly fell off to sleep.

It was a singularly windy night in Waterford, and as I settled in to sleep I could hear the branches of the trees moving in their dance with the wind. I was awakened around 1 a.m. by the sound of something brushing against the panes of glass in our window. I got out of bed and opened the window to brush aside strands of ivy. Although a soft rain was now steadily falling, there were breaks in the clouds, and I was delighted by the sight of billions of stars in the night sky.

The ivy enveloped window
I scurried back into our very cozy bed and quickly fell asleep again. About an hour later I awakened to the 'sound' of complete stillness; I could hear absolutely nothing, and for a moment thought I had gone deaf, then I could hear my husband's breath softly purring in a deep sleep. I laid on my side with my eyes shut, drinking in the quiet, then I turned on my back, opened my eyes and saw it. A glowing white light.

A glowing white light was emanating from the dresser across from the foot of our bed. It would get very bright, almost filling the pitch black room with soft light and then fade, brighten again, and then fade. It was as though the glow was pulsing like the rhythm of breathing. I could hear my own breath quicken in fear, but I could not move. My eyes were filling with tears because I was so frightened. I felt my hand move toward my husband and the next thing I knew I was shaking him awake. "Matt, Matt", I cried out, "what is that? what is that?". My poor husband bolted up in the bed, having been stirred from a deep sleep. He looked toward the end of the bed and started laughing. I didn't think it was very funny, and was annoyed by his behaviour. He jumped up out of the bed, switched on the light, and pointed to my laptop. I had left it on the dresser, and the glowing light? The indicator from my MacBook Pro in sleep mode, a high tech ghost.

The next night this city girl and her understanding husband happily fell asleep in a noisy hotel.
The culprit

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