Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. After spending all afternoon reading about Hampton Court Palace’s supernatural residents, I’ve decided in a wine-fuelled act of uncharacteristic bravery to venture inside the palace grounds at midnight.
The moon has bathed everything in a ghostly half-light as I creep across the uneven cobblestones of the palace’s main courtyard. I pass through a narrow brick archway and enter a dimly lit alley. It is eerily still and unnervingly quiet.
My imagination kicks into overdrive. I start to wonder how I’d react to hearing the “piercing and unearthly shrieks” of Catherine Howard, King Henry VIII’s fifth wife, who was dragged away by guards after being sentenced to death for adultery. Or to seeing the pallid form of his third wife, Jane Seymour, who has been spotted hanging around staircases dressed all in white and holding a lit taper.
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Rob McFarland 
Mate, what were you doing on your back in the Queen’s bedchamber?