The Pages 1

The Pages 1

As promised in chapter one, here are some of the pages documenting our sessions in their original form. These pages do leave something to be desired from an aesthetic point-of-view, but nevertheless give an idea of how most of our attention was focused on everything other than the handwriting. 

I’ve previously described how at times the speed of the glass’ movement would not afford whoever was recording the events onto paper (usually me) the pause or the space to allow a quick understanding of when one word ended, and the next began, something that’s evident even on the very early sessions. Conversely, there are moments when the end of a word is mistakenly anticipated leaving a pre-empted space; an example of this is seen below, where “CALL ED” is written, when actually the one word, “CALLED” appears to be intended. 

The nature of these early sessions is quite basic with the simplest, although perhaps understandable of questions being asked - such as, “When did you die?” and “where did you live?”. 

I’m beginning at 4th January 1994; and to see how I subsequently edited, included the questions that were asked, and commented on these notes, you can refer back to the earlier chapters that they correspond to.

Above: Dennis tells us to hurry, as his time is short (Ch.1), then Jane appears to indicate that meningitis caused her death.
Below: (Ch.1) Certainly one of the more memorable sessions. When I asked Zak if he’d materialise for us in the kitchen where we were sat, he exclaimed it was a “loaded question” and that it would “scare u shitless”. Still, I was insistent. So he asked us to “name your place” (I suggested he appear by the sink) and to “hold the glass”. We waited and waited, eventually getting bored, and placing our fingers back onto the glass; with a jolt it suddenly spelt out the words, “made u look, made u stare”. 

One thing I did learn on that evening was not to write with a marker pen on both sides of A4.

When I asked Sam (below) to appear before us, he said it was "not on" and inferred that he needed to trust us more. He continued, "I ain't livin' in this kitchen", and told us to "find a good book or something".  

Thinking that the conversation with Sam had probably finished, we took a short break and left the room. The cat must have wandered in whilst we were out. We returned (with new writing implement), placed our fingers back onto the glass, and I clearly remember the following leaving us  crying with laughter ...  

Sam became a regular visitor.

Below: I ask Theresa if she's familiar with Sam. She describes him as "full of shit" and as "black as the ace of spades". 
When I posed the question of whether it was necessary to believe in an afterlife in order to experience one (as in biblical terms), her response was, "If that's the state, then there would be no one here". Then she tells us she's run out of time and is getting pushed.    

The scribbling and aimless doodling seen here would take place as we chatted, waiting for any movement from the glass.