The House of the Baskervilles

INTRODUCTION.

Born in the Summer of 1942 a few became ecstatic at my birth. Some vivid memories remain of conversations with Mrs. Holst, as she 'cooed' and walked my sun drenched pram,  while those of Mr..Holst who wrote The Planet Suite is partially lost to memory and dependent upon others.

By comparison my recollections at 5 years of age are impressive, a Guardian Angel saved me from a 'pressing appointment' with tons of collapsing masonry at War's end mimicking my Mothers calling voice, thus removing my anatomy to a safer room with split seconds separating me from death, unfortunately my Hornby Train set was hard of hearing and  kept the rendezvous, it remains today a series of clockwork book markers.

My unhappy parents divorce celebrated and ruined my 11th Birthday, ultimately commemorated by a trip lasting four years at a Private Boarding School in Surrey, an incarceration from  which I escaped into even deeper educational captivity for a further year surrounded by more Mortar Boarded ' boffins' at Braintree Technical College in Essex, near London, UK.

Despite impressive educational diploma's my practical skills demanded a release, one subsequently attracting a 5 yr. Apprenticeship as a Carpenter & Joiner, a training  which a dying local population directed unanticipated involvement's into the Professional 'Art' of Undertaking, a frequently frightening Spiritual divergence with many 'Ghostly' confrontations in the Coffin Store usually highly amusing to all except the victim, not surprisingly this became a severed contract.

Relocation to Harlow in Essex with a company providing trained employment as a TV Engineer was at first bliss, but later also decayed into anarchy and potential violence.

It did however reveal my earliest Psychic powers enabled by a  lady in Enfield, in nearby Middlesex, who's 'Rugby' attack diverted my head from an ex cons shotgun vengeance using his wife as hostage. Some of her most extraordinary prophecies soon came true with chilling accuracy in the years to follow.

A move  to  South  Devon on the ‘Toe’ of England  subsequently swept my personality through experience's and increasing spiritual interactions with several 'Spook's', some were quite evil, yet others predominantly friendly, extremely well known characters.

By 1980 I was a Property Developer, the market was generous until the Conservative Governments economic decline in 1988 directing that profitable living to a final purchase, memorably Park Hill House a substantial Mansion on the edge of Dartmoor where most likely the 'Ghosts' of this Victorian property knew of my coming.

Their friendly introductions began with 'Things that go bump in the night,' progressing to 'Thing's that go Jump in the day', an Olympic selection of clock's, vase's, and picture's often leapt  impressively across the room, heart attacks almost became an every day opportunity! 

Mysterious 'effigies' appeared in old photograph's revealing an often puzzling series of past occurrences involving dead people each establishing a trail more investigative than any by Sherlock Holmes whose infamous author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, could certainly not have written this story for it also involves him after his death, plus some very controversial fact's revealing  the  'Hound of the Baskerville's'  probably penned by another!

This story is  not fiction, incredibly my life has followed in Mr.Fletcher-Robinson's phantom footsteps almost 100 years later, for this brilliant young man whose parentage began in Witham near my birth place at Gt. Dunmow in Essex, who carved a trail through time before me owned for many years this Mansion in Devon  preceding  my occupation. 

From where did that ultimately condemning  picture of Arthur Conan Doyle with his father Altimont Doyle come from found mysteriously on the morning doorstep? 

Why was it regularly projected from the wall  with a bang like a Shotgun?

How did that 'Psychic' lady in Enfield  know I would become involved?

Was The Hound of Baskervilles' originally written by Mr. Fletcher-Robinson?

How could Robinson really be Murdered by an Egyptian Mummies 2,500 year old curse causing  his untimely death at only 36 year's of age? as Doyle subsequently said to the London Express newspaper reporter in New York harbor.

Why was Harry Baskerville on board that same ship?  

Does this intriguing fresh evidence now reveal an incredible one hundred year old Murder Mystery, covered