Working in the field of the paranormal one hears many unusual stories for this subject is as wide and diverse with many stories which tax one’s mind none more so I guess that the one that I am about to relate to you. It is told by a gentleman by the name of Alan Gammon who upon reading a story about me in one of the National newspapers, decided to come forward and let me know about his extraordinary experience, that of witnessing a scene from another time. So in his own words here is what he said.
If you wish to use the story in any way I am pleased for you to do it. Deep down for all these years I have felt that what I experienced should be recorded somewhere even if it was only for historical reasons as I also feel that over the generations that have passed I haven’t been the first to have seen it.
My True Story by Alan Gammon.
Bus 283 Sevenoaks – Bessels Green, Kent, England.
It was a warm August evening. I was on the late turn driving a bus for London & Country Bus services from Reigate to Sevenoaks. At the time this was a new route for us only having been run from the spring of 1994. The route ran from Reigate to Westerham in Kent following the A25 to Sevenoaks. It went on to serve a few places around Sevenoaks before returning to Reigate just after midnight. Not many people used the bus but for the few it was an essential service. Every night a young lady used to arrive at Sevenoaks Bus Station in the town centre at around 11.20pm in time to board the bus for an 11.28pm departure. She would get off another bus with her boyfriend, have a kiss and short chat and then board my bus. She was there almost every night without fail and travelled to her home at a small village called Bessels Green. On the evening of 14th August 1996 she didn’t turn up. Her other bus came and then went which was my signal to go. When I drove out of the bus station and turned into the High Street, on my right I noticed a bright star shining in the night sky. This star seemed to be keeping up with my movements along the route out of the town. When I arrived at a small roundabout at Sundridge the star was directly in front of me, after turning left it should have again be seen on my right just behind me. It wasn’t it was just ahead. As I drove along the road it disappeared totally from sight. I progressed along the A25 in total darkness, no street lights or traffic passing the other way I headed towards Bessels Green, as I approached probably about a quarter of a mile away I saw what appeared to be the bright star very low, in fact it appeared to me level with the road surface. This was confirmed as I drove nearer and nearer it became larger and larger until I drove into it. As I entered the light the road surface changed, the bus rocked side to side with the sound of the rough flint type road on the tyres. I immediately slowed down to a stop on the side of the road, my nearside front wheel rested in a pothole directly outside the Kings Head Public House. The pub didn’t look right; it looked dowdy, beige brown in colour and appeared to be floodlit. I swiftly guessed a film crew were shooting a film and straightway looked around to see if I can see others, there was no one there. The cottages in the village had dim candle lights shining in some of the windows. I saw in the background what appeared to be a large church with candle light shining from the windows. I then heard the clip clop of horse’s hooves and saw a horse and open cart slowly walking towards the pub. The cart had people sitting either side facing one another on a wooden bench type seat laughing between them and seemed very happy. The ladies wore flat caps and white blouses, the men wore jackets, white shirts and ordinary trousers. The colour of the material for the jackets, skirts and flat caps were all the same colour a brownish-green, the material looked like a type of tweed. They appeared to be people who may have worked on a farm ending the day in the pub after a hard day’s work. When the cart pulled up the driver stepped down and walked around the back of the cart to help the ladies off a short ladder who were still giggling and one by one went into the pub. One lady who was sitting in the cart while the others was getting off looked straight at me.
The door was ajar, as they pushed the door to go in they seemed to step over a beam, which ran along the bottom of the door, I could hear the door slam after each person went through, this made me think the door was kept closed by a spring. While this was going on to get a better view I opened the bus door to go outside, a voice in my mind said
“If you go outside you won’t come back, just look and see”
I looked to my right and the sun was just setting across the fields as I turned my head to look at the pub the voice said
“You have seen enough, it’s time to go”
I put the bus in gear and slowly drove off the flint road it seemed to hit a small step as the bus went onto tarmac and into the darkness. The running time for that route was tight and I knew without looking at my watch I was running very late. Excited, I wanted to tell someone what I had seen, I completed the route, as I approached Reigate bus garage that little voice said
“Don’t tell anyone”.
When I looked at my watch to check the time I was early, I clocked off and went home.
The next day, Inquisitive, I went to visit the pub, bought a pint of beer and looked around. A few regulars were in and I listened to the chatter. I would have thought what I witnessed the evening before would have been the talking point of the village. I heard no reference to this whatsoever. The following week I bought a local newspaper to see if anyone had written in, no one had. I then realised I was the only one to have seen it, But what was it? What really happened that warm summer evening? I kept my silence on what happened that night for more than 5 years, I never even told my family. What I saw became apparent, a chance in a billion that I was in the right place at the right time. I broke my silence with someone in 2001 who was chatting about the supernatural and told him the story, he was amazed.
Some years later I read something in a newspaper about ley-lines and their significance along the A25, I began to believe what I saw was a build up of energy from a ley-line. In 2006 I revisited the pub with a friend who I let in on the story. We asked ourselves questions. One was, why could I see the pub if there was a tree between my lines of view? The answer was the tree was planted since the last war so wasn’t there that evening. Why could I see the sun setting across the fields if there are houses and trees across the road? Because the houses again had been built since the last war. How was it that the lady who looked straight at me didn’t see me? Because I wasn’t born and the bus hadn’t been made. I was invisible to all. Why wasn’t I late back to the bus garage, it’s almost as if time had stopped for those few minutes. What was the significance of the star that seemed to be tracking the bus? Was there a connection or just a coincidence? No one knows but all I can say is this experience was one of the most remarkable things that I had ever seen.
We concluded that somehow I had gone back 100 years in time. If I had stepped outside as the voice said I know I wouldn’t have come back. I wonder whether people who disappear without trace go in this way and merely step into the past. No one will ever know but all these years later I am pleased to be able to tell this story.
Wow, what a story. What makes it so interesting for me is the light in the sky that Alan saw whilst driving his bus, but not only that, the light came down to ground level where Alan’s bus drove straight into it taking him (it would appear) to a time in the distant past. Clearly something very bizarre happened here somewhere on this journey a mechanism of sorts (strange light!) assisted this ‘time slip’ to occur. And yes, ‘what if’ Alan had have stepped off his bus, would he have returned? All in all this is a fascinating story where someone has seen into the past we now ask ourselves, would it work the other way, can we see into the future? But that as they say is a debate for another time.
(c) Malcolm Robinson (SPI) & Alan Gammon.