Murders and Ghosts of Olde Weston with Weston Walks

We met under the granite arch on Weston's sea front on an evening well suited to tales of mysterious deaths and long-forgotten murders. The wind was high and so was the tide as it lashed over the sea wall, the spray from it wetting our faces just enough to taste our seaside town, the grey sky accentuating its many colours of brown and grey.

Those of us on tonight's tour of Weston's murky past had our own local ghost stories to tell - mine of a woman who used to visit me in South Road while I tried to sleep, a woman who nobody had told me about, although they all knew. Mike, our guide, invited conversation as we pushed along the front to Knightstone Island.

And so the stories begin. Tales of dead brides in baths, Jack the Ripper suspects, sororicide, butchered butchers, love turned sour, policemen who perished. Accounts of bigamists, cads, thugs, the mentality unstable, the infuriating and the innocents. The perpetrators hung, transported, locked up, acquitted and disappeared.

Mike is a natural story teller, who elicits sympathy for some of his subjects and mistrust of others. He puts the points across and asks tricky questions, "Do you think she killed him?" He describes vividly the characters and the setting (many of the stories are, understandably, from the Victorian era, Weston being a town of little over 100 people at the turn of the Nineteenth Century).

The Weston Walks' Murders and Ghosts tour takes the party up to higher ground, so be prepared to hill-walk a little. I know this town very well but walking around the Shubbery and the areas above Grove Park with a knowledgeable and entertaining guide made me see my home in a different light. I communicated with the topography of Weston and with people I shall never know.

Future visits to some of these crime scenes will get me thinking of Weston's long departed over and again. And I will always wonder whether that stolen cheese was really worth it? But that's a story that Mike should tell you ...

Murders and Ghosts of Olde Weston takes place at 7:30pm every Tuesday and Thursday evening and cost £4 for adults and £3 for children. Booking is essential. Weston Walks also does daily Seaside Strolls, where history and entertainment combine. For more details, see www.westonwalks.co.uk

Written by Becky Condron

Professor Paradox and the Pirates of Green Bogie

We got to Princes Hall as the doors opened, to take full advantage of the “Coffee and Crayons” before the show proper. She found herself one of the many pots of crayons and a pirate colouring in sheet and I grabbed a cup of tea, while other children, some dressed as pirates or fairies, piled into the venue with parents and grandparents in tow.

Princes Hall is part of Clevedon Community Centre, which adjoins Sunhill House. It’s a large area that is well-placed to hold theatre goers: it seats 300 people. It's a comfortable place for parents because the children can run around without danger or frowns from others - there's space enough for everyone.

I counted about 30 kids here today, many of whom sat on the padded mats to watch the star of the show, Professor Paradox, a clown/magician/Master of Silliness, who has a way of warming children (and adults) to him.

The first glimpse we got of the Professor was his bottom, always a good start when you’ve got a crowd of excited little people, who just love anything that is a tinsy bit naughty. He sneezed into a spotty hanky, he talked about poo and smelly socks and he was mildly slapstick, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of pantomime. He has an air of Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonker about him, not just the unkempt hair that he is “very proud of,” but also that nonchalant attitude of “I told you so but you didn’t listen, did you? So be it.”

The Pirates of Green Bogie were coming to steal our sweets and we had to make a magic smell to keep the stinky, naughty crew at bay. The spells went wrong because Professor Paradox kept losing things even though the audience squealed and shouted that “There! There’s your hat! On your head!” His magic wasn’t working, mostly because we had failed to shout loudly enough. We remedied that.

Helpers were sought to come onto stage. The young assistants came willingly, the older ones had to be hand-picked, though they got into the spirit of the play immediately and one Dad was a great sport, dressed by our host as a big fairy.

This was a fun and easy-going event, organised by Event Architects of Clevedon, who hope to raise the profile of Princes Hall. For us, it worked: I’ll be checking out future events held there, of that I have no doubt.

Written by Becky Condron