Before we get started, it's one of those nights. It's about 8.30 am recording.

Ivy snoring. One of the dogs has a bone. Here's a little taste of what was going on in between

recordings. Because of the gremlins or the ghost. It's not a ghost. God damn it.

So I apologize, but as has always been the case with this podcast,

it's done is better than perfect. Sorry.

Grab a roadie and your barber jacket because we're headed out of the swells.

We know each other well enough by now, but please remember that adults who use adult language

told me these terrifying tales. These ghost stories aren't for kids.

Well, I'm turning in my paper late again. I have no excuse. There are reasons.

With 67 ghost stories and 10 out of the swells, spooks under my belt,

these interviews don't come as easily as they used to. So when they do come, I'm quite relieved.

This one was a toughy, but I'm putting it out warts and all. My primary goal is and always has been to distract you,

but I'm also here to distract myself. So let's head out of town, hop skip and jump out of the swells,

and get caught up in someone else's problems. Bundle up because we're headed out to the woods.

We're on to out of the swells number 11. The homestead.

I met Betsy Gunner. At a book club, I'd recently joined and promptly dropped out of.

At the top of the meeting, we were forced to go around the circle and introduce ourselves.

And I was as vague as I could be, but when pressed, I admitted to writing a blog and then when pressed further.

I confessed that it was a collection of interviews about hauntings and wellsley.

A blog for children, one woman asked skeptically.

Oh no, definitely not for kids. There were polite smiles and the conversations have done thank goodness,

and the meeting carried on with lukewarm coffee and pretentious discussion about a contemporary who done it

...