This next is from an old Jerseyman, an ex-military, no nonsense chap who I worked with recently. It refers to a time just after the war, maybe 1947, and he was perhaps nine or ten years old. He lived with his parents in a large house in the parish of St Saviour, close by the Neolithic tomb known as La Hougue Bie. He takes up the story:

“One afternoon I was cycling home from school. There was a big white gate at the entrance to [the house] and there was a monk standing there. He opened the gate for me to go in and I said, ‘Thank you very much.’ I went into the kitchen and said, ‘Mum, who’s that? Who’s that monk at the gate?’
She said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘A monk just opened the gate for me to come in.’
She dropped the glass which she was drying. It wasn’t long after that that we moved. The house was definitely haunted. We moved to a small cottage but I do have many memories of really terrifying feelings at [that house]”