Braving a night at Bradford's most haunted

I'd taken up the challenge of spending the night in Bolling Hall, which pre-dates the Domesday Book, and was ready for some spooky spirit action.

Ghost nights are held regularly at Bolling Hall. "They're extremely popular," says visitor services supervisor Paul Hodgson. "Some nights we've had plates thrown through the air, doors slammed and people scared to death, screaming."

I'm a paranormal sceptic but I love spooky old buildings and was intrigued by the idea of a ghost night. The event, a fundraiser organised by Diabetes UK, was led by paranormal investigators from Yorkshire ghost-hunting company Fright Nights.

"We are not responsible for breakages, thefts or poltergeist activity" said the Frights Nights email.

Armed with a waterproof coat, a camera and sandwiches, I arrived just before 9pm. Rain was falling, wind howling, and as I turned into the car park the house appeared, gothic-looking and shrouded in trees against the turbulent night sky.

The closest I've come to a ghost was at the Edinburgh Festival. I was staying in a B&B overlooking Portobello beach and one night I saw a man in white walking across the sand. He looked like a music hall entertainer and waved his top hat, grinning at me. I thought he was from the festival and waved back - but suddenly he was gone. He just disappeared. I put it down to the fact that it was 2am and I'd been out on the beer.

During my night at Bolling Hall, Portobello would return to haunt me I joined a 20-strong party of brave souls shown around the hall by Paul Hodgson and colleague David McIlroy who've experienced many strange goings-on. One of Yorkshire's most haunted buildings, over its 900-year history Bolling Hall has been home to spooks from the "Pity poor Bradford" white lady to crying babies, children playing, Parliamentarian officers marching and sudden shadows and perfume scents. The hall even spooked Living TV's Most Haunted crew.

"We've heard whistling and keys jangling from dead former employees," said David. "A family recently arrived who'd been the previous Monday. I told them we're closed on Mondays and they said: Yes, the man told us.' There were no staff here but they'd seen a man in an overall and glasses lean out of a back door (which is locked behind an iron grid). We have a photograph on display of a 1940s employee, George Collins. The family insisted That's him!'"

Walking through Bolling Hall is like taking a journey through history; it's a hotch-potch of period styles added to the original 13th century structure. Outside the wind howled, but inside it was warm. I'd expected a spooky chill but David explained the house is kept at a certain temperature to preserve the centuries-old furniture. "If it suddenly goes cold it's nothing to do with the heating," he said, cryptically.

We gathered in the housebody where Medium Rachel Banks showed us the paranormal investigative equipment. Holding up a pair of energy-finding divining rods she said: "These can be made from wire coat hangers. I use them to find my car keys!"

Laser thermometers indicate sudden temperature drops or rises and electromagnetic field (EMF) meters pick up spirit energy.' "If it goes red it's picked something up," said Rachel. Then the lights went out, we turned on torches and Rachel led us to the kitchen. "The temperature has dropped from 23 degC to 18," said someone clutching a thermometer.

We huddled in tense silence around the room. "There's an old woman with long grey hair at the table," said Rachel. "She has arthritic hands."

Visitors have claimed to see an old woman here spitting: Get out of my kitchen!' "Now there's a man bringing in slabs of meat," continued Rachel. "They're not taking notice of us so they're spirits." I stared hard into the darkness but saw no old ladies or ghostly meat.

Suddenly there was a tap on the window behind me. Rachel came over. "It could be the wind," I said, nervously. I'd heard a man in black taps the windows then run away quickly.

Upstairs was the opulent Red Room, with a plush red Chippendale couch bed and walls covered in red silk.

It had an oppressive atmosphere; David once had palpitations here and one visitor felt on the verge of a heart attack. Ghostly women are said to appear on the bed and swarms of strange black flies buzz near the window. I noticed dead flies scattered across the window sill. It felt claustrophobic, one woman started shaking and struggling to breathe.

Rachel was sensing the spirit of a man "standing over a woman's lifeless body." We stood in a circle holding hands, visualising energy entering us then passing it along. "Spirit make a noise, move something or tap someone on the shoulder," said Rachel.

I shivered at the prospect but what seemed like an eternity later, when nothing had happened, I was bored of standing around. "Bring it on, scare me witless," I muttered.

Over in the dining-room, where party noises and food smells have been sensed, we held an uneventful seance then Rachel and a few others shone a torch onto their faces. The light and shadows created strange facial expressions. "I see a Victorian man with grey sideburns," one woman said, as Rachel held up the torch. I could just about make out grey sideburns but put it down to a trick of the light. Then I noticed my EMF meter light had turned from green to red. Could it be picking up spirit energies?

Rachel was getting the word Portobello.' "I don't think it's Portobello Market," she said.

"There's one near Edinburgh," I heard myself say. I thought nothing of it until days later when I started writing this feature and remembered my Portobello man-in-white. Coincidence?

Around 2am we had a coffee break and I asked Rachel about her clairvoyancy. "I read energies," she said. "I get a feeling as soon as I enter a room. When I hear a word I replay it back, it's like tuning into a radio.

"People think they'll see a floating figure with fangs coming at them but it's more subtle. Ghosts are a blueprint of the past, spirits are an existing energy. Because of our busy lives we don't read energies like ancient civilisations did, we turn to logic rather than the unknown."

We split into another group, led by medium Jill Lorentsen-Bright. In the Blue Room, scene of many ghostly sightings, she asked for spirits to make themselves known. A heavy rhythmic thud came from the top of a staircase leading to a locked room. "It's the clock!" someone cried, pointing to a grandfather clock on the landing. But the thudding stopped and started again. "Is that you?" asked Jill.

Later we entered the Delius Room, containing 19th century Bradford composer Frederick Delius's piano. Children claim to have seen a man playing it.

By this stage I was shattered and I slumped onto an old couch. "I'm getting Irish dancing whispered in my ear," a man piped up. "Is anyone connected with Irish dancing?" Would it sound flippant to say I'd seen Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance? I decided it probably would.

"I'm sensing Tibetan monks," said Rachel. I yawned.

Once again spirits failed to materialise - "They're not playing tonight," said Rachel - and we trooped upstairs to the attic. I could've slept standing up. I didn't have enough energy for a seance and my divining rods were starting to droop.

We called it a night at 5am. It had been exciting exploring the house in the dark - we had access to areas, including the cellar, normally closed to the public - but the spirits didn't appear to be playing out that night.

• For more about Fright Night events ring or visit www.fright nights.co.uk