UFOs and the paranormal with Malcolm Robinson: Ghosts - some of my own experiences

[quote]PRESENCE IN THE KITCHEN!

There was the time when I experienced something strange in my kitchen - this time it wasn’t my wife’s cooking!

It was the late 1970s (1978 or 1979) and I was employed by United Glass Ltd, a manufacturer of whísky and beer bottles in the town of Alloa Clackmannanshire, Scotland. I regularly used to talk about my interest in matters pertaining to UFOs and ghósts to my work colleagues and on this particular day I was in deep conversation about matters spíritual with an elderly workmate.

We were discussing life after death; did people really survive the death of their physícal materíal bodies? I explained to my workmate, that if he cared to look at the evidence then he couldn’t fail to be impressed by it.

My workmate’s reply to my bible bashing statements was: “Look Malcolm, I’m not too sure about all this life after death business, but I’ll tell you this, whenever I die, if it’s at all possible, then I’ll cóme back to you and you’ll certainly know about it.”

“Yeah right,” I replied.

A few months later I arose at 4.45am to start at 6am for my dayshift at the United Glass plant. The house was dead quiet and stíll. I was busy preparing my breakfast all alone, my family stíll being sound asleep, when suddenly I became aware of a ‘presence’ behind me in the kitchen.

I can’t really explain it; I just ‘knew’ or rather very strongly sensed that there was someone standíng behind me.

It was an unmistakable feeling. I can stíll sense that feeling now, the hairs on the back of my neck were up and goose pimples raced up and down my body. I very slowly turned round not knowing what to expect only to be met with... nothing, just the usual kitchen chairs and table etc.

No person was visibly there. And yet I could stíll sense this presence only feet away from my face.

I spoke: “Who’s there?”

But my question was met with silence. Gradually this sensation that was with me slowly diminished and was completely gone and everything appeared and felt normal again.

I set off for work and upon arriving at the men’s mess room, I was met with a room full of sad faces. I said, “What’s the matter with you lot then?”

To which one of my work colleagues said: “I take it you haven’t heard then!”

“Heard what”, I replied.

“Wee Bobby Smith died last night.”

With these words, shivers ran down my spine. For wee Bobby was the elderly workmate who only a few months before had said to me: “When I die, and if it’s possible, I’ll cóme back to you and you’ll certainly know about it.”

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