HAUNTED WIRRAL: Through the time barrier

This week, more timeslip tales ...

CONTINUING on from my column last week regarding slippages in time related to me by readers of Wirral Globe; here are just two of many stories I have received.

I’ve changed a few names – but nothing else – for reasons of promised confidentiality.

In June 1977, at a beautiful semi on Barnston Road, not far from Beaumaris Drive, there lived a henpecked 'house husband' of fifty named Clive Bakewell, and on this sunny afternoon he sat watching a soap opera called The Cedar Tree on telly and became so engrossed in the programme he lost track of time.

Clive sat there with his armchair turned to face the TV, dunking chocolate digestives in his coffee with his young cat Charlie curled up on his lap. During the commercial break, he heard the key being inserted into the front door, and he realised with utter panic that his wife Elizabeth was home – and he had forgotten to fry the chips and bake the cod steaks.

Charlie leaped off Clive's lap, ran out the living room and into the hallway, and followed Elizabeth upstairs.

Clive had only seen his wife's legs going up the top few steps of the first flight of stairs.

"The tea might be a bit late, love!" Clive shouted and heard his wife’s heavy footfalls going across the kitchen ceiling – she was in the bedroom. She often came home like this without a word of greeting and went straight to the bedroom to change.

Clive looked at the kitchen wall-clock – it was 4:30pm – and he couldn’t believe how the time had flown when he had watched the TV for what seemed like minutes.

He emptied a bag of chips into the deep fat fryer and then he turned the gas knob but forgot to light it with a match (as the igniter wasn’t working) and he went to get the cod steaks from the freezer.

"Damn! I forgot to put the peas on," he muttered then got a whiff of the gas and lit the ring with a match and there was a small resultant bang which singed Clive's eyebrows.

When the tea was almost done, Clive went to the foot of the stairs and yelled: "Elizabeth, tea's ready!"

The cat, Charlie, came down the stairs and meowed.

Clive shouted his wife again.

The cat ran to the front door – and Clive heard a key being inserted into the lock. "Who’s this?" he asked out loud, thinking someone was trying the lock for a moment – but then the door opened and in came Elizabeth.

As usual she didn't even acknowledge her husband and walked past him up the stairs to go and change in the bedroom.

"Elizabeth – I – I saw you come home at half-past four," Clive said to the back of his wife as she ascended the stairs, and she reacted by slowing and looking at her watch.

"It's half-past-four now;" she told her husband, "have you been drinking?"

Clive went into the kitchen and saw the time was indeed 4:30pm.

The mystery deepened when Clive’s neighbour, Ronnie told him he had seen Elizabeth enter the house twice that day – at 3:30pm and 4:30pm.

Ronnie had seen her come home twice and even the cat had chased after her the first time; it was as if time had looped back on itself and Elizabeth had come home twice.

In August 2009, a 55-year-old seasoned HGV driver named Barry was travelling along Telegraph Road in Heswall one sunny morning to a depot in Chester. 

Upon reaching the familiar junction where Pensby Road meets The Mount and Telegraph Road, Barry realised something didn’t add up.

The bank on the left, on the corner of Pensby Road, bore no resemblance to the NatWest bank, and the branch of the Lloyds Bank opposite, seemed different. Just as Barry was trying to unravel this mystery, he felt something push his HGV to the right – so he was now travelling on the wrong side of the road.

He braked, and saw that the Kwik Save supermarket on his right was gone, and then he noticed the cars on the road; they were old Bentleys and Austin Twelve Fours – but they looked new and not vintage.

A gaggle of women, all wearing cloches and old-fashioned calf-length skirts, were looking up at Barry and staring in awe at the 12-wheeled juggernaut.

Barry carefully drove onto the left side of the road – and he saw a policeman standing in the road, looking at him.

The policeman also looked old-fashioned and there was a young woman standing near to him.

The policeman raised his arms to Barry, gesturing for him to stop, but Barry sensed there was something very strange going on. He felt as if he had gone back in time to the 1930s or 1940s, and he tried to drive around the copper – and the bobby ran after the lorry.

Barry looked in horror at the oncoming cars swerving to avoid him as he drove down Telegraph Road, but then he suddenly noticed the Iceland supermarket on the corner of Telegraph Road and Downham Road South, and with great relief, Barry realised he was back in 2009.

He continued on his way to Chester after stopping for a bite to eat, and he tried to work out what had happened and how it had happened, but gave up.

Barry resigned himself to the fact that he was a HGV driver and not some theoretical physicist.

He told no one what had happened to him, but a few weeks later, Barry was at a warehouse in Bromborough when a young driver came in and remarked to his colleagues: "That's a strange road, that Telegraph Road, isn’t it? Saw something random there today."

Barry was the only one who replied. He asked: "What did you see?"

The driver answered: "Saw all these old-fashioned cars parked outside the Supper Bar, you know, by the Rightway chandlers shop? They were there one moment and then gone. It was mad."

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