The Ghosts of Chesterfield

The countdown has begun! The first full performance of ‘A Pint For The Ghost’ will take place at the Hotbed drama festival in Cambridge on Saturday, June 27th at the ghostly hour of 9pm. There will be music from Sam Genders, visuals from Issam Kourbaj and a special guest playing the part of the pub landlord.

As part of the visuals for the show, I’ve been gathering some images to use in a projection. This involved a trip around haunted York, a visit to some of my home town’s boarded up, derelict buildings and, of course, an all important visit to The Arkwright Arms in Duckmanton to collect some photos of beer. Thanks to my able assistants Danny, Milner and, of course, my dad for being so willing to help me in my quest to photograph empty pint glasses.

Though The Arkwright has the best beer for miles in Chesterfield, it would have been more appropriate for us to have visited Somerset House; a pub just up the road from where my parents live in Calow, and where I used to spend many a Friday night drinking Guinness as an impressionable teenager. For Somerset House has its own haunted history. Legend has it that the pub is plagued by the ghost of a young girl who was tragically killed in the 1930s:

‘(The pub) was the residence of a wealthy gentlemen farmer. In 1934, he had been shooting with a number of friends and had brought them back to his home for a drink. The men put down their guns and stood outside talking. Also present was the farm labourer who lived next door and his three children. One of these children, a ten year old boy, picked up a gun and pretended to shoot his sister. The prank went tragically wrong when the gun went off and the girl was injured. She ran into Somerset House, but died a few minutes later. She was only seven years of age’. – Derbyshire Ghosts and Legends

The young girl makes her presence felt in the pub by locking doors, turning off lights, whispering the names of bar staff and even scratching them in their sleep:

‘In 1988, the landlord, Bill was in the taproom when the barmaid, Carol, asked him what he wanted. She had heard a voice call her name and since no customers were in, had assumed it was Bill. Bill knew it was not him and both were extremely puzzled. .. The next day, Carol’s arms were covered in scratches which had appeared overnight. She denied that she could have scratched herself in her sleep as she was in the habit of biting her nails and they were extremely short. Bill then pulled up his shirt and revealed his back. It looked as if it had been clawed by an animal...’

In The Arkwright Arms, the only spirits I could discern were in bottles behind the bar, but you never know....