Enfield Poltergeist – The Troubles Start
In nineteen seventy seven a mother and four children residing at 284 Green Street, Enfield north London became the focus of a poltergeist outbreak.
The Enfield poltergeist originally made itself known at about nine thirty p.m. on Thirty first of August nineteen seventy seven. Mrs Hodgson, a divorcee in her forties, was putting two of her four children to bed in one of the three upstairs bedrooms of her semi-detached council house in Enfield, north London, when Janet, aged eleven, and one of her younger brothers, aged ten, complained that something was causing a ‘shuffling noise’.
Not long after, Mrs Hodgson was astonished to see a hefty chest of drawers moving about eighteen inches along the floor, well out of range the range of either child’s feet. She shifted it back into place, however, it shifted once again, to its previous position, and this time around it wouldn’t budge when she tried to put it back in place. At around the exact same moment, there were four loud knocks that seemed to come from the wall adjoining the house next door.
Mrs Hodgson, as she recollected about a seven days afterward, commenced literally to shudder with dread. She was certain, as were her commonly high-spirited youngsters that something was happening that didn’t have a reasonable cause.
Her first reflex was simply just to leave the house. She considered of contacting her brother John Burcombe, who lived six doors up the road. However her nearest neighbours, Vic and Peggy Nottingham, were still up, so it was to them she initially turned for support. The rapping noises started again as Vic and his lad were carrying on a methodical inspection of the building.
As Vic came down the stairway, the sounds appeared to originate from the wall right next to him. He promptly scrutinized each of the forward facing and rearward yards, yet noticed no hint of anyone at all. They called the police at about ten p.m. and in the presence of one of the two police officers that were shortly on the scene, a chair in the living-room slipped across the ground just as the chest of drawers had done before it, WPC Carolyn Heeps later submitted a written report to this effect, thus attesting to a minimum of one authentic phenomenon on the very first day of the situation.
The next day various toys including marbles and toy bricks started to take flight all around the property at significant speed. Some, when picked up, were discovered as being uncommonly hot. This airborne blitzkrieg continued for three days, and by Sunday 4 September both the Hodgson’s and the Nottingham’s had reached the end of their tether. By that time, they had contacted the authorities again, looked for aid from the area clergyman and from a nearby woman who alleged to be a medium, but all fruitless.
The Hodgson’s had never learned about the Society for Psychical Research (SPR), and the only strategy they could think of was to get in touch with the Daily Mirror. They weren’t pursuing notoriety; they just required someone to explain them what was going on. Journalist Douglas Bence and photojournalist Graham Morris spent Sunday evening with the Hodgson’s. Not a thing took place until just immediately after they vacated at about two thirty a.m. On Monday morning, when the toy blitz promptly restarted. Peggy Nottingham’s father shouted them back just as they were driving off.