As the majority of readers will no doubt appreciate, much of the work undertaken in the paranormal field involves research, in fact, lots and lots of research. I guess that it is fortunate that I don’t mind a bit of reading.
During such a concentrated period of research, I found it amusing that I kept encountering the well-known Essex tale concerning the Witch of Scrapfaggot Green. Whatever book I picked up, no matter the subject matter, there was often a reference to the story.
To the uninitiated, near Boreham, to the north of Chelmsford, there existed a small, triangular piece of land, known locally as Scrapfaggot Green – Scrapfaggot believed to be an old Essex name for a witch.
Here, 60 odd years ago, you could find the final resting place of a witch, allegedly hung following the 16th Century Chelmsford Witch Trials, the grave capped by a large stone to prevent the spirit of the witch escaping.
Now I say final resting place, but back in 1944, during the latter stages of World War II, the US Air Force were in the process of constructing the nearby Boreham Airfield and found it necessary to widen the local country lanes to allow unrestricted access to the site for it’s construction machinery. It appears, as part of these road widening works, that the grave was bulldozed and the stone ended up in a ditch.
This was the catalyst for numerous calamities and unexplained events that occurred locally, that even attracted the attention of the world famous Paranormal Investigator Harry Price.
The spirit of the witch was subsequently laid to rest when the stone was eventually returned to it’s original location at Scrapfaggot Green, although there appears to be a wall of silence concerning how (and when) it ended up in the car park of the St Anne’s Castle Inn, in nearby Great Leighs (1).
As I was researching the subject of coincidence at the time, the frequent cropping up of this case was of great interest to me, especially as I had moved less than a mile away from Scrapfaggot Green in the last 12 months.
Suspending my research into coincidence, I turned my full attention to the curious case of the Scrapfaggot Green Witch. The first challenge was to find where, exactly, was Scrapfaggot Green?
Despite the multitude of references to the case, there was no mention itself as to the exact location of Scrapfaggot Green. Neither was it marked on any map, contemporary nor even the original Ordinance Survey series. I was stumped.
However, in one book I found a tantalising reference to Scrapfaggot Green being located at the end of Drakes Lane, a lane that still exists even to this day, albeit presumably much wider than it was prior to 1944. Furthermore, there was another Green marked on the map not more than half a mile to the east.
Having seemingly re-discovered the site, I was very keen to make a location visit and, without informing Laura of what, why or where we would be going, arranged for an evening out in the sunny Essex countryside.
Just prior to leaving, to drive to Scrapfaggot Green and Great Leighs to view the stone itself, it suddenly struck me that perhaps I was looking in the wrong place for the original location of the Witch’s Stone.
With a couple of minutes to spare, I pulled out the ordinance survey map yet again and it dawned on me that perhaps Scrapfaggot Green could equally be located at the western end of Drakes Lane, not the eastern end where I originally thought it was.
I thought that this would make sense as far as the legend went, as the eastern end of the lane was only a mile or so from St Martin’s Church at Little Waltham, where the witch’s remains were allegedly interred after their discovery.
Still keeping all this from Laura, we got in the car and headed off toward Great Leighs, diverting via my two best guesses at the location of Scrapfaggot Green.
We would reach the western end of Drakes Lane first, but despite being familiar with the approximate location, I couldn’t recognise any landmarks that would identify Scrapfaggot Green, or indeed any sign posts to tell us that we were actually in Drakes Lane.
As we drove eastwards along the road I thought to myself that perhaps the blocked off side road was the start of the Lane, but at this point I wasn’t even sure that we were in the right area.
After about a mile or so I pulled over into a make shift lay-by, opposite a factory unit and tried to work out where we were.
If we were on Drakes Lane we must be coming to the end of it and approaching its junction at the eastern end with the main Great Leighs / Boreham road. Having consulted the map, we decided to abandon our search for Scrapfaggot Green for another evening.
We continued our drive to St Anne’s Castle Inn, this time activating our Sat Nav to avoid any further confusion. Almost immediately we arrived at the junction with the Great Leighs / Boreham road and to my right I spotted the road sign indicating that we were at the eastern end of Drakes Lane and possibly one of the locations for Scrapfaggot Green.
However, quickly looking around, there was no indication that we were at our target – we were at an ordinary T-Junction and judging by the size of the trees on both sides of the road, it was very difficult to see how any green had fitted in at this junction.
Resigning ourselves to the fact that we’d probably driven right past Scrapfaggot Green, I turned left and we made our way to Great Leighs.
As we made our way along the winding country lanes, Laura commented that, as we had driven past the blocked side road, she picked up the name ‘Alan’ and the place name ‘Carlisle’, presumably the town in Northern England.
I asked Laura if it was possible that ‘Carlisle’ was a surname as opposed to the town, Laura assured me that it was definitely a place name, as she’d sought clarification of this and it was definitely the town.
At this point I confirmed to Laura that this was interesting, as the blocked road junction was more than likely what remained of Scrapfaggot Green. This being so, we made a note to try and return home via this route and check the possibility this location was indeed the case.
After a short drive we found ourselves in the car park of St Anne’s Castle Inn. Pulling into a parking space I looked around for the Witch’s Stone that was supposed to be located on the grassed area in the car park. There was nothing to be seen.
This was a concern, but I was sure that the stone had merely been moved elsewhere on site and we’d try and locate it later.
Entering the almost empty bar, we ordered some drinks and sat down at a table next to the old fireplace.
Settled, Laura read though a local arts magazine on the table whilst I debated how on earth we’d driven past our target and what, if anything, did the information that Laura had picked up amount to?
Having finished scanning the magazine, Laura told me that as we drove along the country lane to the Inn, she kept picking up the word ‘sanctuary’. This feeling ended when we arrived at the Inn.
My ears pricked up at this but kept quiet and allowed Laura to continue.
Laura explained that she’d sought clarification of the term – was it in reference to an animal sanctuary? A children’s home? But all she could come up with was that it the context of how she received ‘sanctuary’ in a spiritual way.
At this point I decided to reveal all to Laura, the story of the curse of the Witch’s Stone, its removal to St Anne’s Castle Inn, the fact that it was the oldest public house in England and, more importantly, the building’s original function was a Norman Priory and subsequently a monastic hospice for the many pilgrims that used to pass, making their way to holy shrines such as the chapel and holy well of Our Lady of Walsingham (Norfolk) and the tomb of Thomas a’Beckett at Canterbury (Kent) – perhaps this was the ‘sanctuary’ that Laura was picking up as we drove towards the Inn.
As I told her all this, Laura took my note pad and started writing. After had finished talking, I could see that she’d written:
‘Indola / Ingola’
‘Wise’
‘Matheson’
‘Audley End’ (could refer to two locations within 20 miles of the pub).
We decided to drink up and leave. As I finished my drink Laura told me that she’d just had a cold shudder all over and showed me the goose pimples on her arm.
She then picked up the name ‘Digby’ and informed me that she was ‘attracted’ to the men’s toilets situated nearby.
Leaving the Inn, we decided to see if we could locate the missing Witch’s Stone. I quickly located it near the entrance on the main road, near an advertising board. It was smaller than I’d imagined and was laid flat into the grass verge.
 | I decided to take some pictures using my mobile phone, but mysteriously,
the shutter failed to open. Finding this amusing, I turned the camera function off and tried once again, but again the shutter failed to open. This had never happened before in the four months that I’d owned the phone and a couple of hundred pictures. |
This had never happened before in the four months that I’d owned the phone and a couple of hundred pictures.
I decided to take some pictures using my mobile phone, but mysteriously, the shutter failed to open. Finding this amusing, I turned the camera function off and tried once again, but again the shutter failed to open. This had never happened before in the four months that I’d owned the phone and a couple of hundred pictures.
Trying again for a third time, the shutter opened on cue and I took a couple of photographs without any further problems.
Retracing our route through the Essex countryside, we discussed the information that Laura had picked up and how she had arrived and some of her conclusions.
Soon we found ourselves at the blocked road and we realised that we were now at Scrapfaggot Green, the original location of the Witch’s Stone until it was moved back in 1944.
Scrapfaggot Green rediscovered?
Looking at the junction, there was a small triangle of grass in the centre, which sadly was clearly all that remained of the green after its impromptu redesign by the Americans over 50 years ago.
As it was dark we decided to return to take some photographs at a later date.
This is the end of the story so far, but I’m sure that we will be re-visiting sooner rather than later.
As always, if you have any comments, or would like to add to our knowledge of the background story or location, please don’t hesitate to contact us HERE
Mark.
Notes:
(1). The Landlady of St Anne’s Castle Inn kindly informed us in correspondence that she’d read that the stone was placed at St Anne’s Castle Inn because it was on the cross roads of the main road through Great Leighs.
** Update **
Scrapfaggot Green – 11th June 2011
It had been a while since we’d made any updates to our website, so we decided to take a drive to Scrapfaggot Green to take some daylight photographs to use on the site, the only other ones we possessed being dusk shots which weren’t really suitable for publication.
It was a nice sunny summer’s morning and the journey proved uneventful, the traffic even flowing freely at the usual bottlenecks. As neared our destination, conversation turned to mundane matters and how familiar the countryside seemed despite having moved away from the area over 18 months ago.
Then, as we approached the green, turning into the side road to park up, Laura, to my surprise, suddenly told me that she could feel firm pressure around her neck.
As I quickly pulled over, the pressure around Laura’s neck eased and she began to explain what she’d experienced.
Laura told me that as we were chatting, without warning she felt pressure around her neck, as if someone was clutching her neck, forcing her head back. The sensation was so real that she could even feel the fingers and thumb of an invisible hand around her neck.
I took a couple of photographs and jumped back into the car. As we drove away we discussed what had happened, Laura advised that although the sensation had now gone, she could still feel the after effects when she swallowed. As she continued describing her experience, Laura grew pale and was hit by a wave of severe nausea which lasted for approximately 30 minutes. The nausea was so strong we had to contemplate pulling over onto the side of the dual carriageway on two occasions during the drive home.
As I sit here writing up the account twenty four hours later, there are no marks on Laura’s neck and any lingering sensations in her neck have disappeared and Laura can offer no explanation to what had happened and confirmed that she didn’t pick up any additional information as perhaps would have usually expected.
One for the files and perhaps something that can be tied in with any future visits to the location that we may make.
Staying with Scrapfaggot Green, we’d like to reproduce part of an e-mail that we received from Sholah-Ella earlier this year regarding the location:
“Hello, I have been looking for information on Scrapfaggot Green on the internet, trying to find where exactly it is situated. Your story was the best I come across for this...”
All we can say is thank you very much for your email Sholah-Ella, feedback like this makes all the hours spent pouring over dusty old books worthwhile. Please be sure to keep visiting us as we hopefully will add further updates should anything crop up during our research and visits.
L&M