Hello and welcome to 30 Days of Terror Day 28.

How you do?

We're going to go straight into it. I've got four stories for you today.

Four, all about picnics and fun days out and...

Listen, do you just want to do you want to go for a picnic?

Is that why you keep talking about picnics?

Maybe I do.

Is that it? Do you want to go for a picnic? Have some baby bells?

I just feel like I've not heard enough picnic drama stories.

I think if people start sending in picnic dramas and that won't be my go to nice positive thing.

I just feel like most people go to picnics and that they might get rain gum but then comedy in shoes or they might just have a nice time.

So I feel like it's a go-to nice story.

Someone sends me a picnic drama story where everything went disastrously wrong.

I'll stop talking about picnics.

I'd actually don't know what to say.

Story number one comes from Paul.

My mother is Irish and we've grown up with a sometimes contradictory mix of Catholicism and Irish folklore.

The Pope and ghosts go hand in hand in our family.

In 1985 my dad was a prison officer and when he got a promotion we had to move from the northeast of England down to Suffolk.

His new post was at HMP High Point near Haver Hill.

It used to be known as RAF, Stradishold during World War II.

In 1985 I was 12 and HMP High Point was a low security prison that housed the famous jockey and convicted tax fraudster Lester Piggitt.

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