Last night, my friends and I went a bit ga ga and impulsively decided to pay a visit to the infamous Clophill Church – an abandoned church atop a hill in the mists of an old and tiny village (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clophill for more info).
It made me realise what freakin’ WIMP I am.
OK, so lemme set the scene. We were all snug as bugs in a rug at my house then one of my nutty friends suggested we go visit Clophill. I said NO! NO! But I was dragged along anyway, whimpering.
The car journey was as scary as hell – long windy country lanes with fog patches. We all screamed in terror when we hit the first fog patch! The atmosphere in the car on the way there was strange – you could tell we were all nervous (even the more ‘pragmatic’ one amongst us was - she’ll deny it though, tee hee!).
OK, so we arrived and got a little lost in the village. Where was this cer-azy church! Thank the Lord for the constabulary cos one of their huge vans acted as a beacon, calling all the freaks and chavs of Beds and Bucks towards the haunted church. Thanks guys! We parked up the road (to the relief of the designated driver because many a car has been smashed up at Clophill - by whom? Well, ghosts of course 
) then started walking nervously toward the path.
On our 10 minute walk up the long and terrifying road that leads to the church, we learnt 2 things – 1) always take a torch with you when visiting haunted churches during the night and 2) fireworks can still look pwetty even when they’re nearly thrown in your face by a chav.
OK, we we walked up this path, surrounded by woods then fields. We stopped after a couple of minutes as a blanket of pure and utter darkness hit us. Yes, the torch issue. Lucky the pragmatic one had a torch on her phone. As we were trying to figure out how to use it, 2 guys behind us were also rooted to a spot, as scared as us by the prospect of walking on in sheer darkness. The poor mites. Anyway, we all trotted on, terrified, not knowing where it led; nor what would jump out on us.
Then we started to encounter truly terrifying sights, from fake Burberry coats to England caps to – horror of horrors – long peroxide blonde hair. A terrifying night indeed, best explained by the fact that chavs like to frequent Clophill each Halloween! We’d heard this horrific rumour but never thought it could be so true. We were surrounded by them!
Anyway, onto the church. It was creepy, its ruins standing stark and scary against the bright night sky. It was strange standing in its belly, staring up through the ruined ceiling towards twinkling stars, weeds curling around our shoes from the ground below.
What topped it off was when we started walking back and stumbled upon something we’d missed when we arrived – a strange semi-circle of gravestones near the entrance, crumbling and ominous in the dark. *shiver* Yeah, there’s just something totally terrifying about that place…
So there you go, a ‘proper’ Halloween night to make you go ga ga! If you’re thinking about going to Clophill, I’d strongly recommend it but mebbe opt to go the day after or before Halloween to avoid all the chavs!
