Ghosts in Caithness

[mostlyharmless]

A friend came round recently and described how she'd seen a ghost appear at the bottom of her bed. Whilst I refrained from absolute derision I wasn't at first sympathetic. However she explained that her children had seen it also in the corridor of their house. Only slightly less derision, then she described the person she saw... the person was just like someone who had lived there 3 years ago who I knew even down to his original looking coat!
The friend moved here less than a year ago...
I'm not sure that I helped by explaining the person she described was a sheep farmer who loved his sheep so much he would bath them in his own bath and the next time she saw him would be amongst the soap suds of her radox bath.

But I 'm not sure my more serious explanations were taken in either.

Any other explanations?? even scientific will do!

[Funky_Foal]

Thats spooky:eek:

[tommy1979]

Sheep humping farmers?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Whatever next? [lol]:roll:[lol]

[connieb19]

In Caithness??:confused: Surely never!!!!!!!....lol[lol]

[Chillie]

Sheep humping farmers?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Whatever next? [lol]:roll:[lol]


Now now this looks, to a serious thread

[fred]

In Caithness??:confused: Surely never!!!!!!!....lol[lol]

You know why Scotsmen wear kilts don't you?

[mostlyharmless]

I set the tone I think talking about sheep in bubble baths, but yes it was vaguely serious .

Maybe it all could be written off as a knock on the head a disturbed dream a a genetic propensity to see ghosts at the end of your bed,little bit of undigested meat some gravy maybe oh dear here I GO AGAIN,

Seriously though how would you explain this?

[George Brims]

On the sheep****ing business, I was once in a pub in Golach's neck of the woods, and a guy at the bar asked me where my accent was from. On hearing I was from Caithness he said "Oh, a sheep****er then". Foolishly (well I had been drinking) I said rather grumpily that I had never heard of anyone doing that to a sheep until I came to the big city, and it must be a thing the city boys were obsessed with. NOT a smart thing to say. This guy was BIG. Fortunately my friends got me out of there in one piece.

A connected tale that brings us back on-topic is about two blokes I knew who decided to spend the night in Girnigoe Castle to see if it was haunted. There's a room that is still enclosed, so they bunked down in their sleeping bags. After a dram or two they put out the light and went to sleep. Somewhere in the middle of the night they were awoken by strange noises and something touched them. One of them managed to turn on their torch, to discover about twenty of Noss Clyne's North Country Cheviots staring at them in alarm, then bolting out the door. Apparently it had started to rain so they had come inside for some shelter.