For nearly a decade, I tried. Every year, I would contact the National Trust with a polite request to access Glamis Castle—the crown jewel of Scotland’s haunted history. Its legends were the bedrock of my childhood fascination with the paranormal. Every book and whispered tale I encountered spoke of its restless spirits and shadowy corridors, fueling my fascination. Yet each year, my request was met with the same answer: “No, thank you.”
The castle’s prestige, its deep ties to history, and its carefully guarded reputation made it clear—they wouldn’t entertain anything that might detract from its legacy. Despite my respectful approach, grounded in historical research and methodologies designed to honour its past, the answer remained firm.
Until one year, it didn’t.
Finally, permission was granted—not for a full investigation, but to wander its grounds. After years of polite refusals, the moment felt surreal, as though my persistence had finally aligned with a shift in perspective. The opportunity was unexpected, and I couldn’t wait to see what secrets the grounds might reveal.
Photography, filming, audio, and soaking up the atmosphere were allowed, and I seized the opportunity with both hands. Walking its grounds, I captured a trove of audio recordings, photographs, and video, each piece tinged with the castle’s unique and haunting presence. Even without stepping inside, I felt privileged beyond measure to explore a place that had haunted my dreams since childhood.
I thought that would be the pinnacle of my Glamis experience. Yet just as I settled into the satisfaction of having walked its prestigious grounds, an email arrived. It was France2, and their request sent my heart racing. They wanted to feature the phantoms of Glamis for their French audience—and they wanted me to join them inside the castle. The anticipation was electric; after years of dreaming, I was finally stepping beyond the threshold into the halls I had longed to explore.
The question is, did the spirits of Glamis reveal themselves to me?
One moment, in particular, stands out. While preparing to ascend to a loft room with our equipment, the curator turned on the lights. Or rather, he tried to. The bulb immediately blew, plunging us into a momentary hush. I asked if this sort of thing was common. “Oh yes,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Happens all the time.”
The atmosphere inside the castle was heavy with presence. Every step carried the sensation of being watched, as though unseen eyes followed my every move. In one corridor, you would think you heard the faint sound of rustling fabric drifting behind me, leaving no doubt that something—or someone—was aware of my presence. Small, unassuming noises punctuated the silence—a faint knock here, the creak of an invisible footstep there.
The audio recordings didn’t disappoint, capturing fleeting whispers and sounds that seemed almost eager to bridge the gap between their world and ours.
Glamis Castle did not let me down. To finally investigate the very place I had read about as a boy, to walk its haunted halls and feel its stories alive around me, was more than an honour—it was a dream fulfilled.
The experience deepened my respect for the unseen layers of history and the mysteries embedded into places like this. It reminded me that perseverance and curiosity can open even the most guarded doors, offering a glimpse into the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary.
Some dreams, it seems, are worth pursuing for a decade.
Just like I investigated Glamis Castle, you too can join us on an investigation at one of Scotland's haunted locations? Check out the opportunities below...
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