Ghosts of Prestbury

Welcome to Prestbury, which is reputed to be the most haunted village in England, or so our local library and various local researchers have informed me.

May your God look over you and protect you whilst you are under my roof.

Prestbury House is the home of the Gorrie-Whitbourns, two families, one from Scotland, one from England who at one time distant past were locked in mortal combat. Now, in the 21st Century, locked in peaceful wedlock.

Our most famous ghost, of which you will find more in the local library, dates back to the atrocities of our English Civil War.

My Lord Cromwell had his officers billeted here at Prestbury House, whilst his own headquarters was just up the road, when a King's messenger from Sudeley Castle galloped the length of the Burgage trying to get through. This brave but foolish man did not see the wire strung between trees that once stood outside and his head was neatly severed, as if by a surgeon, from his Royalist body.

Do not mistake the race horses being taken to Cleeve Common for gallops in the early morning for this poor Royalist soul. Only his galloping steed is heard by a few on certain nights.

Our second ghostly happenings are of a tea party held in the Spinney not 200 yards from the West Wing. It is said that in happier times His Majesty King George III held a tea party there. Our dogs have definitely sensed a 'happening' in our grounds which are adjacent to where the Tea Gardens were.

Then there is the Hooded Monk who makes his way along The Burgage and up Mill Street to the Church of St. Mary's which adjoins Prestbury House grounds.

These are but three of the well kept and documented ghost stories of the Hotel.

Yes, it is said that a tunnel exists from the Hotel to the Church but no trace has ever been found.

Yes, the house talks to me late at night but that is the timbers and stone as a result of the central heating, plus a glass or two of our excellent Lafite Latour '79!

Do not take fright if our favourite ghost is sighted. The beautiful servant girl with the water pitcher in the garden. She is certainly lost in time and destiny as by her clothing she is of an age long before a house ever stood on these grounds.

Sleep in your beds knowing that my family have resided here for 30 years without finding any dark spirits, only peace and tranquility. As for the noble Major Capel, whose family resided here for 300 years (before the House became a Hotel), he died as I know at peace with his maker although he knew his forbears watch carefully over the house. A mantle I now bear.

Just one warning. Do not on any account venture to Cleeve Hill, least of all Devil's Chimney after nightfall.

Much more than that I cannot speak unless of course you wish to tempt me with a tumbler of Scotland's amber life saver.

As an Englishman I now know of the power this liquid possesses via my wife's Scottish persuasion.

Then may your God have mercy upon your soul and may your stay at Prestbury House be one of peace and tranquility as my forbears have seen.