James Smith takes up residence in PigPen
I declare, PigPen has a resident ghost!
And this is how it happened…
On a recent trip to the South West, during our stay in Hamelin Bay, whilst watching the sun drown itself in the Indian Ocean, we were invited on a “Walk of Death” by some dubious character who is a dead ringer for Bruce Willis. Sufficiently relaxed by one’s sundowner brews, a group of ten or so of us followed him in the dark through the scrub and forest, until we reached the lonely grave of a one “James A Smith”, 19 August 1897 aged 40 years.
He accidentally drowned whist working, apparently after drinking too much of the local illegal brew. The company he worked for invoked the “unfit for duty” clause and refused to pay for his burial, so his mates, in true Ozzie spirit, buried him and erected this tombstone inland from Hamelin Bay.
Having been lonely too long, I am now convinced that Mr Smith took a liking to the Sparewheel, and followed us home – see picture below is green ‘monster’ next to her.
There is solid evidence of this haunting – on several occasions since then, spoons and forks have mysteriously moved a good 10 metres from our campsite overnight. Some might say possums, some might say crows, but I say “Welcome on board, James Smith!”