Ghosts, Time slips and Dimensional Cross-overs

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 7:35 pm » by Rizze

Shop in another dimension - Cripps of Bold Street, Liverpool, in 1955


Frank, an off-duty policeman from Melling, and his wife Carol, were in Liverpool one Saturday afternoon shopping. At Central Station, the couple split up. Carol went to Dillons Bookshop in Bold Street to purchase a copy of Irvine Welsh's book, Trainspotting, and Frank went to a record store in Ranelagh Street to look for a CD. About twenty minutes later he walked up the incline near the Lyceum which leads out to Bold Street, intending to meet up with his wife in the bookshop, when he suddenly noticed he had somehow entered an oasis of quietness. Suddenly, a small boxvan that looked like something out the 1950s sped across his path, beeping as it narrowly missed him.

Frank noted that the van had the name 'Caplan's' emblazoned on its side. When the policeman looked down, he noticed that he was standing in the road, and immediate thought that was strange, because the last time he had seen the bottom of Bold Street, it had been pedestrianized. Frank crossed the road and saw that Dillons Bookshop was no longer there. In its place stood a store with the name 'Cripps' over its two entrances. The policeman was understandably confused. He looked in the window of Cripps and saw no books on display, but womens' handbags and shoes. The policeman turned around and saw that the people were wearing clothes that would have been worn in the Forties and Fifties, and this really unnerved him. He realised that he had somehow walked into the Bold Street of forty-odd years ago. Suddenly, Frank sighted a girl of about twenty, dressed in the clothes of a mid-1990s girl; hipsters and a lime-coloured sleeveless top. The bag she carried had the name Miss Selfridges on it, which really reassured the policeman that he was still somehow partly in 1996. It was a paradox, but the policeman was slightly relieved, and he smiled at the girl as she walked past him and entered Cripps. As he followed her, the whole interior of the building changed in a flash to the interior of Dillons Bookshop. The policeman was back in his own time. He grabbed the girl by the arm at the entrance of the bookshop and asked her: "Did you see that then?" and the girl calmly said, "Yeah. I thought it was a new shop that had opened. I was going in to look at the clothes, and it's a bookshop."

The girl just laughed, shook her head, and walked out again. Frank said the girl looked back and shook her head in disbelief. When he told his wife about the incident, she said that she had not noticed anything strange, but Frank was really adamant that he had not hallucinated the episode.

I gave an account of this strange timeslip on the Billy Butler show, and within minutes, people were ringing me and Billy at Radio City to tell us that in the late 1950s and early 1960s there had been a store called Cripps in the exact location where Dillons Bookshop now stands, and there had also been a firm called Caplan's in existence around the same time. What's more, I also received letters and phone calls from listeners who had also experienced strange things in the part of Bold Street where the policeman stepped into another era. A man who worked on the renovation of the Lyceum building in Bold Street said his digital watch went backwards for two hours one day, and on another occasion, he put down his safety helmet, and when he looked down literally seconds later, it had vanished, yet no one was within fifty feet of him.

A Radio City listener named Emma Black sent me a fascinating cutting from a 1970s magazine concerning a timeslip which apparently allowed a telephone conversation to take place between two people spaced thirty years apart. The following summary of this strange story may seem like an episode of The Twilight Zone, but I have heard of three other similar cases. An old woman named Alma Bristow of Bidston, Birkenhead, tried to phone her sister (who had recently lost her husband) in Frodsham, Cheshire. Alma always had difficulty dialling numbers on the old British Telecom analogue telephone because she had stabbing arthritis in her fingers. Alma had evidently misdialled her sister's number, as a man's voice answered. The man said "Captain Hamilton."

Alma asked if her sister was there, but 'Captain' Hamilton replied haughtily, "This is not a civilian number. Who are you?"

Alma gave her name, and as she did, she heard a sound at the other end of the phone that she hadn't heard since she was a young woman: an air raid siren kicking. "Sound like World War Two there." Alma joked.

There was a pause, then Captain Hamilton replied, "What are you talking about?"

"The air-raid siren. Sounds like the war's still on." Alma said, about to hang up.

"Of course the war's still on. Where did you get my number from?" said Hamilton.

"The war ended years ago, in 1945." said Alma, suspecting she was a victim of the Candid Camera Show.

Captain Hamilton was heard to whisper to an associate, then resumed the surreal conversation. "It isn't 1945 yet. If we trace you you'll be thrown into prison for this lark you know? You're wasting valuable time woman."

"Eh? It's 1974. The war's been over for years." Alma retorted, and then she heard the unmistakable rumble of bombing coming over the phone.

"We'll deal with you later don't worry." said Captain Hamilton, and he slammed the phone down. Alma listened eagerly for him to pick up the handset of his telephone, but Hamilton never did. Alma never knew if she had been the victim of an elaborate hoax, or whether she had really had talked with someone in wartime Britain.

The two previous stories about timeslips suggest that the events of the past are still going on somewhere along the fourth dimension. Isn't it ironic how the clock rules all our lives, yet we know virtually nothing about time? Our ignorance regarding the nature of time reminds me of a thought-provoking remark Einstein once made. He said: "What does a fish know about the water in which he swims all his life?"

©Tom Slemen 2001

This story reproduced with permission from Tom Slemen

Of course, this guy is a local author from Liverpool.
Makes most of his stories up, although his many, many books feature stories, told to him by local people, he adds his own slant to things,just to keep the reader interested

"The greatest things on earth are us,supposedly.
Why don't we act accordingly, with humanity" Rizze

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 7:43 pm » by Rizze

More from the Bold Street area

Bold Street 1

Mr X used to work in Bold Street in Liverpool. He was walking one day, about 10 years ago, down Renshaw Street, then turned by Rapid into the lane that takes you across the railway line, and emerges by the Buro Bar.

Mr X had worked in Liverpool for a while, and knew the shops well, noticing the ones that closed down such as Collinsons, leaving empty shoe stands and hat stands still in the window.

Mr X carried on walking, he was going to meet his wife in town that Saturday afternoon, but as he walked onto Bold Street, he noticed that Collinsons appeared to have reopened as the window was full of shoes and hats as it had been a while previously. He also noted that Catchpoles appeared to be on the other side of the street, where it had been some years before prior to moving to a site across the street.

He turned to go down Bold Street, and noticed that all the cars appeared to be 10-15 years out of date, but all appeared new. He then noticed that all the shoppers seemed to be wearing unusual clothes, not dramatically old, but fashions from 10-15 years before. He assumed that there was some event on in the city that weekend. The street also seemed unusually quiet, there were sounds but they appeared quite muted.

Mr X carried on and met his wife outside the bank on Hanover Street. They went in and attended to their business, everything in the bank seemed normal, but when they emerged Mr X was surprised to notice that everything had returned to how he expected it to be - the empty shops were again empty , and Catchpoles was back to where it had been the previous week.

Mr X is unsure if the scene changed back to normal as he and his wife entered the bank, or as they emerged, but as the bank appeared normal we assume things changed back as he entered the bank. His wife, who had not been on Bold Street, had not noticed anything different that day.
Bold Street 2

Mr B had a lady friend who was very much a skeptic concerning matters of the paranormal. In the 80's she worked in Liverpool city centre, and if the weather was pleasant, she would sit outside and eat her lunchtime sandwiches.

particular day, being sunny and warm, she decided to sit on a bench which was situated diagonally opposite Waterstones book shop in Bold Street. As she sat down, she noticed that the sun did not seem as bright as it had been moments before, in fact looking back in later years she described the light as similar to when the area had a partial solar eclipse.

She also noticed that the street did not seem as busy as it had been, which struck her as unusual for the time of day, 12.30pm being the height of the lunch hour. She sat down next to a very smartly dressed man who was already sitting on the bench, and started to unwrap her sandwiches. The gentleman engaged her in conversation, and they chatted about inconsequential matters, as strangers do. As they chatted, the thought crossed her mind that although smart and very amiable, the man next to her appeared to be dressed in an out of date fashion, reminiscent of the fashions popular in the 1950's.

As they were chatting, the man asked her a question. As she replied, she leaned forward to put her sandwich wrapper in the waste paper bin to the side of the bench. She took her eyes off the man for a split second as she dropped the wrapper in the bin, but carried on replying to his question. On sitting up again, she was astonished to realise that the man had completely vanished. She immediately scanned the area for him, but he was nowhere in sight, and could not have run off in the split second that she had taken her eyes off him. At the same instant, the sun returned to its ordinary brightness, and the area was crowded with people once more.
Bold Street 3

Central Station in Liverpool has changed much over the years. Before its last major upgrade, trains used to come into the station and were shunted down to a dead end, then came back up the other side of the station. Passengers came out up a long stairway, then on turning left they emerged opposite Casey Street.

One day, Mr B was going down the stairway on his way to catch a train. This was in the 1960's, and it was 5 or 6 years since his grandmother had died. Mr B's grandmother was an unmistakable lady, she always dressed in old-fashioned clothes, more suited to the 1930's - however she was always smart, and very prim and proper.

As Mr B descended the packed stairway, he caught sight of his grandmother going the opposite way, leaving the station. He stared in amazement, and blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Sure enough, the lady was his grandmother - no-one else could be mistaken for her as she was so unique in dress and style.

He tried desperately to reach her, but the stairway was so packed with people he could not fight his way through. He saw his grandmother turn left at the top of the stairway, going towards the exit, and at the same moment a gap appeared in the crowd. Mr B instantly took the opportunity and ran through the crowd and round the corner. But his grandmother was nowhere to be seen. There was nowhere she could have gone in such a short time, even if she had started to run (and being in her 70's when she died, this was not something she would have been expected to do).
Bold Street 4

At the top of Casey Street are the remains of St Luke's church, which suffered major damage in the May Blitz of Liverpool during World War II.

One evening about 11 years ago, Mr C was in Liverpool city centre. It was December, and he had been to the Hi-Fi shop which was situated at the top of Bold Street.

He was now on his way to meet a friend for a drink before going home. The weather was cold, and the streets were icy. Mr C made his way to Casey Street, then turned down the side of the church.

As he passed the church he looked up, and was surprised to see that all the lights were on inside the church. He thought how unusual it was, as the church was derelict, not even having a roof. Occasionally there was a light shining in the porch, but nothing more. Mr C was amazed, but assumed that the church had been renovated since he had last been past it.

Shortly before Christmas, Mr C was again passing St Lukes. However, this time he noticed that the church was again in blackness, and was derelict and locked.

Later, Mr C read Tom Sleman's story of the church, and his "blood ran cold".
Bold Street 5

In the 1950's, Mrs P worked in Cripps in Bold Street (now Waterstones) as a window dresser. At the time, there was an equipment room in the basement of the store. The store employed a commissionaire, an older military gentleman, 6 feet tall and thin. He always proudly wore his wartime medals, and sported a walrus moustache. He had been at the relief of Khartoum, so was advanced in age at this time. Mrs P "hit it off" with the commissionaire and they became good friends.

One morning, Mrs P went into work to find her friend was not there. It transpired that he had been taken ill at home, and had been taken into hospital. Mrs P carried on work as normal, and went for lunch as she normally did. After lunch, she went down to the basement. She heard a cough from the top of the stairs and recognised it instantly as her friend's cough - he had a very distinctive cough, much as you would imagine an upright, military gentleman's cough to be. She was very pleased at the thought that her friend had obviously recovered and returned to work, so she ran up the stairs to where her friend used to hang his coat. She was very surprised to find nobody there.

Later on, she discovered that she had heard the cough at the exact moment that her friend had died in hospital.

Thingwall which is on the
Wirral, Merseyside.

Mrs S had recently moved to Thingwall. Her daughter was about 4 and a half, and she had taken a poorly turn. As it was a fine sunny day, Mrs S decided to take her for a walk in the pushchair, to give her some fresh air and also to have a look at the area which she did not know yet.

She went up Mill Lane, opposite the primary school. The lane she walked down was tarmaced, but the surface soon gave way to cobbles. As she walked along, she noticed a cottage on the right hand side, with an old chap leaning on the gate smoking a pipe. He wore a collarless shirt, and had his sleeves rolled up. Mrs P nodded to acknowledge him, and he nodded back.

After this cottage there was a row of whitewashed cottages with hanging baskets outside. On the left hand side of the lane, there was a circle of "country house" flowers - nasturtiums and other cottage flowers. To one side of the circle of flowers, there was a heap of sandstone. Behind this there was a row of cottages. Alongside these there was a stable block with an archway. Further on there were more cottages, some built of stone and some built of cheap looking brick. As Mrs P walked along, she saw a lady dressed "like Mary Ellen" with a high neck blouse, shawl, and black long skirt. She did not appear to notice Mrs P, as she was hurrying into her house. As Mrs P passed the house she could feel the warmth from the fire in the range inside.

At the end of the lane was a five bar gate, and a little girl was sitting on it. At the time, the program Little House on the Prairie was popular on the television, and Mrs P thought how the child was dressed in a similar fashion, as was popular with children at the time. However, Mrs P noticed that as well as a dress and pinafore, the child was wearing button boots. She thought this was odd, as modern children never went as far as wearing old-fashioned items like this. The little girl gave her a funny look, then jumped off the gate and ran into a cottage. Mrs P walked up to the 5 bar gate, behind which was a grassy slope leading to a meadow. She decided that as this was the end of the lane, she would turn round and take her daughter back home. As she walked back down the lane, the man leaning on his gate was still there, and they both acknowledged each other again with a nod.

Mrs P went home, and described to her mother how she had found the old part of Thingwall and how pretty it was.

A couple of months later, the opportunity arose for Mrs P to take her mother to see the cottages. However, when they arrived, the path was no longer cobbles, it was all tarmac and paving slabs. The cottage where the man had been leaning on the 5 bar gate was now boarded up and almost derelict. The stone cottages had gone, replaced by 2 semi-detached houses. The circle of flowers and the stable block had also vanished. At the end of the lane, the 5 bar gate no longer existed, and down the dip was now an estate of bungalows. Mrs P remarked that whilst houses were built quickly nowadays, there was no way the entire area could have changed so dramatically in just a few months.

About 8 years later, Mrs P was involved in a dispute about a footpath. Her solicitor suggested that she should obtain the 1830 tithe map of the area and check the footpath on that. After some difficulty, due to the lack of dwellings on the map, Mrs P located first Woodchurch church, and then Thingwall village. Mrs P was surprised to find that the buildings on the map exactly matched the buildings she had seen that day when taking her daughter for a walk. The pile of rubble she had noticed was actually the remains of Thingwall Mill which had been destroyed in a hurricane.

"The greatest things on earth are us,supposedly.
Why don't we act accordingly, with humanity" Rizze

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 8:42 pm » by Rizze


In the relatively short span we spend on earth, one thing above all rules our lives: time. Even the richest man in the world lying on his deathbed cannot buy one extra second of time. Time is more precious than gold but cannot be borrowed or bought, although we often talk of someone buying time or living on borrowed time. These are just misleading idioms. As Paul Henri Spaak, the Belgian statesman once wistfully remarked on the almost cruel ephemerality of fleeting time: 'If an hour seems long, I remind myself that it will never return, and it immediately becomes terribly short.'

But what is time? Does it really have something to do with the clocks and watches which dictate our lives, or is it all in the mind? We all know that if you're having an unpleasant experience, time drags by, but if you're enjoying yourself, the hours fly; it's as if time is a subjective experience.

Neurologists now claim that the brain's complex architecture may be partly responsible for our experience of personal time. If you have a personal computer nowadays, the manufacturer often states how 'fast' the PC is by quoting the speed of its processor, which is usually measured in megahertz (MHz). One megahertz is a measure of frequency equal to one million cycles per second. Personal computers have a component containing a quartz crystal which vibrates millions of times a second and acts as the heart of a clock for the computer system to work by.

Most computers have a processor speed of 200 MHz, but believe it or not, the human brain - the most complex computer known to man - has a much slower frequency of just 18 Hz - or eighteen cycles per second. The eminent neurologist J. Hughlings Jackson recently stated that 'Time in the form of some minimum duration is required for consciousness.' Many other prominent neurologists concur, and believe that psychological time - our experience of the present - is merely an illusionary side-effect created by the ticking of the brain's electrical 18 Hz clock. This would mean that the ego of the reader only exists in relatively slow measurable pulses of 18 cycles per second.

In other words, the ego is discontinuous, like a number of beads spaced out on a thread. Curiously, the Buddhists have long asserted that the ego is a flickering, virtually non-existent illusion of continuity. A good analogy to illustrate this concept of discontinuity is the way we are fooled into believing we are watching a continuous 'motion' film in the cinema when we are in fact only looking at 24 still frames being swiftly flashed onto the screen in succession each second. The audience experiences a sense of 'now' unfolding each moment in the film's time frame, when in reality, it is just a discontinuous illusion full of blank gaps and static images.

The clock theory of the brain would also explain why certain people suffer convulsions and seizures when they are bombarded with rapid flashes of light from a strobe. Most of the seizures take place when the strobe flashes at a frequency of 15 to 20 Hz. It's as if the flashes are sending high-speed signals down the eye's optic nerve which throws the brain out of synchronization with its 18 Hz rhythm, just like a drummer losing his beat. Despite these intriguing mechanistic theories of consciousness, I still suspect that the neurologists are grossly underestimating the complex workings of the psyche and are merely skirting the fringes of the human mindscape.

So much for psychological time. Does time exist outside of our brains in the physical universe? The Greek philosopher Heraclitus (c.540-c.480 BC) was one of the earliest people to ponder the nature of time, and he observed that 'All things flow, nothing stays still; nothing endures but change.' Heraclitus was remarking on the apparent constant 'arrow of time' which travels into the future from the past, relentlessly in one direction. Empires rise and crumble, the baby grows into an old person and expires, and the eternal seasons roll on. In the midst of this ever-changing universe, the nostalgic animal homo sapiens longs for the familiar golden days of yesteryear, often yearning to turn back the clock.

The receding out-of-reach past, which rouses Shakespeare's Richard II to cry: 'O! Call back yesterday, bid time return.' Thanks to the development of photography, films and video technology, we can call back yesterday in limited form. We can re-visit a wedding captured years back on video, be enthralled by films starring actors and actresses who have been dead for decades, just as we can listen to tapes and CDs featuring performers who have long gone to their graves. And of course, leafing through the simple family photograph album never fails to evoke some emotion or memory of days gone by. But can we somehow circumvent the seemingly cast-iron laws of nature and actually visit the past (or the future for that matter) in person? This is a seductive notion that has occupied minds for thousands of years.

We are now venturing into the territory of the theoretical physicist, because we are posing the age-old question: is time-travel possible? I say it is.
We are all time travellers, moving into the future at a rate of sixty seconds a minute, although we often think that it is time that is going by. No, time stays, we move on. In each second which goes by as you read these words, the earth is whizzing through space in its orbit around the sun at a phenomenal speed of eighteen miles per second, but no one is aware of this.

Nor are most people aware that the when they look at the incandescent orange disk of the setting sun, they are seeing it not as it is 'now', but as it was eight minutes ago. The rays which travel from the sun across 93 million miles of space take eight minutes to reach us here on earth. So we are looking eight minutes into the past when we see the sun. The stars in the sky are even further away than the sun (which is the nearest star to us), and the light from them can take anything from 4 years to billions of years to reach us. For example, if you go out on a cloudless night and look up at Polaris, the so-called 'North Star', your eyes will be seeing it as it was 680 years ago when Edward II was king of England.

And, if by some remote chance, there are aliens peering at us through their version of a super-Hubble telescope on some planet orbiting a star 932 light years away, they will be witnessing the Battle of Hastings. Sadly, if the extraterrestrials take another look at us 900 years on, they will see there are still conflicts going on down here.

So, just by gazing at the stars we can look into the remote past, which illustrates how our perspective on time changes when we look at it from beyond the petty confines of our day-to-day mundane world of clockwatching. But looking at stars is hardly physical time travel; isn't there a nuts and bolts way of visiting the past down here on earth? The surprising answer is yes.

Viewers of all ages have been terrified by Dr Who with his grisly gallery of outlandish monsters (and low-budget egg-box sets). The good Doctor and his Tardis were once regarded as pure science fiction but there are many distinguished scientists with impeccable academic credentials who believe that time travel will be a reality one day. Indeed, some boffins think Timelords like the Doctor may have already visited history. Before I examine the blueprints for hypothetical time machines, let me mention just one curious historical character of the 18th century who may have been a real-life timelord: the mysterious Count of St Germain.

Various books refer to this enigmatic aristocratic-looking individual as nothing more than some oddball adventurer. In the Century of Enlightenment, the French police suspected him of being a Prussian spy, but the Prussians surmised he was a Russian agent. The English thought he was a Jacobite sympathiser when he was arrested in London in 1745, but whenever he was interrogated, it became clear that the Count was not in the pay of anybody, and made many disturbing and seemingly astounding claims.
He said he had met Jesus of Nazareth and had been a wedding guest at Cana, where he actually witnessed the water-into-wine miracle. The Count added that he had always known that Christ would meet a bad end, and many were outraged by his sacrilegious claims. The Count said he had also met Cleopatra, Nefertiti, Henry VIII, Shakespeare, and many other historical personages.

Stranger still, when quizzed by bemused historians about his meetings with celebrated characters from the past, the Count of St Germain always went into amazing detail about his encounters, and could even describe the food, weather and trivialities of the age he had lived in. All of these details would be thoroughly checked by the academics and always found to be true. Another mystery was the Count's wealth. He was incredibly rich and had an abundant supply of unusually large gemstones, which he used as currency.
Then there is the puzzle of his multi-linguistical talents. He spoke fluent, Greek, Spanish, Russian, Italian, Portugese, French, Arabic, Sanskrit, Chinese, English and the language of Christ - Aramaic. The Count was also a gifted violinist, pianist, sculptor (in the ancient Greek tradition), painter, and an accomplished chemist.

He set up many laboratories during his extensive travels throughout Europe, Russia and India, but his work was always shrouded in secrecy, although many thought he was an alchemist trying to turn base metals into gold. The great French writer and philosopher Voltaire quizzed the Count, initially suspecting him to be a silver-tongued charlatan, but ended up declaring: 'He is truly a man who never dies and knows so much.' But the greatest conundrum concerning the Count of St Germain is his incredible longevity.

According to reliable eye-witness reports and the numerous entries in aristrocrats' diaries, the Count appeared to be 45 to 50 years of age in 1710, yet he is known to have been active in the French Revolution of 1789. In fact, he was even mentioned in the diary of one condemned Marie Antoinette, who recorded her regret at not taking the advice of the 'Comte de St Germain, as he had long ago warned of the gigantic conspiracy which would overthrow the order of things'.

During the Reign of Terror in France, the unfathomable nobleman from nowhere still looked no older than 50. The last reliable documented sighting of him took place in 1821, 111 years after he appeared on the European scene, and the Count still looked like a 50-year-old man.

Shortly before he vanished from the Continent, he told a writer named Franz Graeffer: 'Tomorrow night I am off; I am much needed in Constantinople, then in England, there to prepare two inventions which you will have in the next century - trains and steamboats.' After his arrival in England, the Count of St Germain travelled north, and there were several reports of him collaborating with the engineers and promoters of the early Liverpool to Manchester railway. There were even sightings of the mystifying Count in Cheshire around 1829.

The only document that can be attributed to the Count is now kept in the Library at Troyes. It contains strange, apparently symbolic diagrams and a baffling text. One paragraph reads: 'We moved through space at a speed that can be compared with nothing but itself. Within a fraction of a second the plains below us were out of sight, and the earth had become a faint nebula. I was carried up, and I travelled through the empyrean for an incalculable time at an immeasurable height.

Heavenly bodies revolved, and worlds vanished below me.' The Count St Germain's lifespan seems incredible to us today, when the average expectation of life is seventy. How much more phenomenal it must have seemed in the 18th century when reaching 35 was an achievement.
The Count's true identity will probably never be known, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he was a traveller in the realm of time, and may have really met Jesus and Henry VIII. If he was a timelord, what sort of technology would have allowed his trek through history? At the moment, there are two spheres of modern science which might allow a limited form of time travel: subatomic physics and cosmology.

The world of subatomic particles is a topsy-turvy one which would have delighted Lewis Carroll. In the surreal 'inner space' universe of positrons, quarks and electrons, a ray of light consists of photons which paradoxically act as particles and waves. There are also elementary particles called muons which are incredibly short-lived and unstable. After 2.2 microseconds the muon decays into an electron, neutrino and and anti-neutrino. However, if the muon is pushed towards the speed of light in a particle accelerator, its lifetime is stretched a little. Travelling at 0.99% of light's speed, the muon's life is extended from a couple of microseconds to 155 microseconds.

This strange effect is known in scientific circles as time dilation, and was predicted by Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity (published in 1905). Time dilation not only stretches the lifetime of a particle; it can also extend the lifetime of a human, although the energy output and technology to achieve this would present engineering difficulties at this moment in time.

To illustrate the weird world of time dilation, consider the following example, which was forseen by Einstein before space travel was a reality. Picture identical twins named Jack and Joe - both aged 25. Joe stays on Earth and Jack embarks on a 5-year tour of outer space in a rocket that travels close to the speed of light. When Jack returns to his home planet, he is five years older, but Joe is 75 years old, because 50 years have elapsed on Earth since Jack set out on his relativistic journey.

People accustomed to relying on 'common sense' down here on Earth are usually puzzled at this twin brother paradox, but it is totally in accordance with relativity. Atomic clocks have been carried on Concorde, and at the end of their journey, the clocks have been compared with synchronized high-precision time-pieces left on the ground. The results are always the same; the clocks moving on the supersonic Concorde jet ticked slower compared to their stationary counterparts on the ground.

Building a rocket that travels near the speed of light is not exactly a realistic option to propel a person into another time. In fact, time dilation can only send the traveller into the future. To travel into the past you would obviously need to go backwards through time, and this would appear a trifle trickier to achieve.

The universe we are familiar with is made up of 'tardyons' - particles that travel slower than the speed of light. But for some time now, scientists have been speculating upon the existence of an intriguing particle they have dubbed the 'tachyon' - a subatomic particle that travels faster than light. The tachyon only exists in theory at the moment, but there is mounting evidence which suggests that it is at large in the universe. Tachyons, because of their incredible velocities, travel backwards in time, and seem to fly in the face of terrestrial common sense.

An encounter with a spacecraft made of tachyons would play havoc with our sense of reality. We would see it in our vicinity first, then the spacecraft's slower light image would catch up some time later, so that we would perceive the tachyon ship as moving backwards in time, and could subsequently witness its launch! This would not be some weird optical illusion, but the effect of tachyonic dynamics as predicted by the Theory of Relativity. Should scientists of the future discover a way to convert the hull of a spaceship or time machine into tachyons, the door to the past will be open and the long-held dream of returning to yesterday will become a reality.

Unfortunately, the military and intelligence forces of any country would surely regard a time machine as a threat to national and global security. And sadly, they'd have a point. Imagine some future Hitler in the 22nd century abusing time travel to alter the past; perhaps to massacre his adversaries' ancestors.
For all we know, these assassins from the future could already be at work in history, carrying out murders which would seem motiveless to us , yet have far-reaching influences in the politics of the future.

Would this chilling possibility explain why certain people (who are always alone) have been struck down by an incredible energy force which has literally reduced them to ashes? I am referring to the hundreds of recorded deaths from so-called spontaneous human combustion, where victims have been charred to death - sometimes within seconds - often leaving their clothes and surroundings unscorched.

Cremating a human body requires a considerable amount of heat. In the crematorium a temperature of 2,500-3,000 degrees Fahrenheit is required for up to four hours. But a majority of the people who die from spontaneous combustion are incinerated to powder in minutes or seconds, and the fierce burning is usually so localized, a victim can be seated on a chair which remains untouched by the heat; one victim's nylon tights were not even singed. Then there is the sinister disturbance in the earth's magnetic field which precipitates the lethal self-contained inferno.

Each day, observatories from all over the world record readings of the earth's magnetic field. Researchers in spontaneous human combustion have discovered that in many areas where people have turned into human incendiary bombs, 'something' has disturbed the magnetic field of the earth in those regions, making it more intense. The sun's solar activity was initially blamed, but the real source of the disturbance remains elusive and seemingly impossible to pin down. It's as if something 'comes through' from out of the blue to strike down the unsuspecting and apparently well-targeted victim with an unimaginable burst of powerful yet containable energy.

Could that energy be the beam of some deadly tachyonic laser-device of the future, aimed through a tiny aperture in the space-time fabric? Is this just all paranoia - or could someone up the timeline be targeting you soon?

Getting back to the physics of time travel; most physicists have now accepted that black holes are a reality and exist in our own galaxy. A black hole is created when a massive object, such as a star, collapses in on itself, resulting in a highly compressed sphere of super-condensed matter. The gravity is also condensed in the collapsed star, and is concentrated to such an extent that even light cannot escape from it; hence it is known as a black hole.

Einstein taught us that space and time are inseparable, so a hole in time is a hole in space, and a whole new generation of theorists now believe that black holes are gateways to the past and future. However, a static black hole is to be avoided. Amateur time-travellers entering black holes that do not spin would be simply crushed out of existence at the central point of the black hole - a nightmarish point of super-condensed time and space called a singularity, where the laws of physics break down.

A rotating black hole is more hospitable and offers an incredible option: travel into the remote past and future of the universe. These amazing possibilities are not pie in the sky; all the equations have been worked out and put to the test in computer simulations; all we need is a rotating black hole, but finding one near enough in the interstellar neighbourhood is a daunting problem. Locating a black hole is fairly easy, as they are usually pulling apart other stars, and as the stellar material goes down the event horizon plughole at an incredible velocity, massive emissions of X-rays are generated which we can pick up on earth. There are many suspicious looking sites in the sky which look like black holes, but all of these objects are simply too remote to be of any practical use to the enthusiastic time-traveller.

This predicament has cornered some scientists into considering alternative forms of time-tampering.

One respected American scientist named Frank Tipler has published several ideas for time machines in reputable journals such as the Physical Review and Annals of Physics. Tipler's design for a time machine involves a lot of abstruse mathematics, and the dynamics of rotating cylinders.

All of the work centres on twisting time and space with high-speed rotation devices, but as far as we know, no one has tried out Tipler's machines. The technology does exist to make some headway with Tipler's designs however. NASA technicians are currently developing high-speed dynamo flywheels to power satellites and manned spacecraft. These flywheels are the size of a bicycle wheel and capable of 90,000 revolutions per minute.

The outer rim of the wheel travels at more than 7000 miles per hour, generating kilowatts of electricity to power up the space stations of the future. Some wheels are now on the drawing board which will be magnetically suspended on frictionless, superconducting axles. The speeds of these flywheels will be even more phenomenal, and it will be interesting to see if they produce any time distortion as predicted by Tipler.

Of course, we have only been concentrating on man-made time-travel. Could it be that time occasionally malfunctions all by herself through some poorly-understood phenomenon? Also, could the fabric of space-time down here on earth have weak spots or holes which could provide us with an opportunity to explore another era? With a magnification of 30 million, the electron microscope taught us that nothing in the universe has a smooth surface. The apparent flat level smoothness of a pane of glass or the veneered top of a coffe table is in reality pitted and pockmarked with grooves and chasms.

Could the same be true of the spacetime fabric? If the space-time continuum does have weak spots and holes in it, it could explain some of the following timewarp cases.
In the summer of 1992, a successful Cestrian entrepreneur and experienced pilot named Mr Davies took off from a private airfield on the outskirts of Chester. Mr Davies was at the controls of a Cessna and was headed for Liverpool's Speke airport.

As the Cessna was passing over the Stamford Bridge area, Mr Davies noticed something quite strange. Thousands of feet below there were no signs of the M53 or M56 motorways. Nor was there any sign of a single A or B road.
Intrigued and somewhat alarmed at the apparent missing roads, Mr Davies descended in his plane to take a closer look at the now unfamiliar territory.

What he saw made his heart somersault: a tight formation of men were marching down a road towards a long rectangular squat building. Mr Davies located a pair of 10 x 50 binoculars and trained them on the marching figures.

They were Roman soldiers, and the building they were walking towards looked like some sort of Roman villa. At this point, a strange low mist seemed to materialise and enshrouded the landscape below. When it cleared, there was the A548 motorway and Mr Davies saw to his relief that everything had returned to normal.

He flew over the M56 and decided to circle back to see if he could get a glimpse of the soldiers again, but they were nowhere to be seen. Mr Davies subsequently made extensive inquiries to ascertain if the soldiers had been extras in some film. But there were no films about Romans being shot anywhere in Cheshire, or anywhere in Britain for that matter.

Mr Davies gradually realised that he had somehow ventured into the airspace of Cheshire during the Roman occupation of over a thousand years ago. Mr Davies has since heard that several other pilots have experienced strange time-displacements in the skies over Cheshire. One highly-respected helicopter pilot with a military background lost radio communication during his 'episode', but has never gone into detail over just what exactly happened to him.

He did state that his greatest fear was being stranded in the past. Perhaps this was the fate of Flying Officer Brian Holding.

On March 7, 1922, Holding took off from the airfield at Chester on what was intended to be a short flight over the border to an airstrip in Wales. On the return journey from Wales, Holding's plane was spotted by scores of witnesses droning through the skies back towards Chester.

That plane and its experienced pilot never reached the airfield and was never seen again. A massive search for the wreckage of the missing plane was launched but not a trace of the craft was ever found. Stranger still, weeks before Holding flew into limbo, peculiar lights were seen flying in formation over North Wales.

Some timeslips have apparently given witnesses glimpses of the future. Between 1995 and 1997, a number of people in the vicinity of the Runcorn Bridge reported seeing a breathtaking futuristic vista on the horizon towards Hale Bank, near Speke Airport.
The incredible sight that greeted the eyes of Frank Jones at 4 am on the morning of December 5th, 1995 was not the lights of Liverpool Airport.

Mr Jones thought it looked more like Liverpool Spaceport. The scene was like something from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Enormous lenticular ships dotted with bright blue and red lights were rising into the dark sky until they were out of sight. The domed ships were taking off silently from an enormous circular area which was lit with an actinic glow from powerful lights. Dotted about this launch area, Mr Jones could see towers and buildings speckled with a myriad coloured lights.

As Mr Jones travelled north along Queensway on the other side of the Mersey, he lost sight of the breathtaking spectacle, but knew dozens of other early morning commuters must have witnessed the 'UFOs'.
Several reports did trickle into the radio stations and newspaper offices of the region. That same week, a man crossing the Runcorn Bridge said an enormous craft shaped like 'an upturned basin' had hovered over his vehicle until he reached the Bridgewater Expressway. The spectacular sightings abated for a while then returned throughout 1996.

Early in 1997, a woman from Halton Lodge, Warrington was 'terrorized' by a gigantic spacecraft which loomed over her car as she crossed the Runcorn Bridge. The terrified woman said the craft looked like the ominous 'Death Star' out of Star Wars. In a state of total panic the woman deliberately sped across the bridge at a speed of 80 miles per hour because she hoped that a policeman would see her speeding and come to her aid.

Throughout the desperate getaway attempt, the colossal ship overhead matched her speed, and the woman thought she would be abducted, but the circular spacecraft left her alone and continued on a slow trajectory towards Hale Bank, where Mr Jones had seen the mirage of a spaceport.

Several local Ufologists quizzed the witnesses and descended on Hale Bank in search of physical evidence left by the giant UFOs, but found nothing. Were the ships UFOs from another planet, or did the witnesses see some future spaceport which will one day stand near Hale Bank and Speke Airport? Time will tell.
Without a doubt, one of the most intriguing timewarp incidents of recent years unfolded in the autumn of 1984 at a small terraced house known as Meadow Cottage in the village of Dodleston near Chester.

A schoolteacher named Ken Webster was working on his BBC 'B' personal computer at the cottage late one night and accidently left it on.

When he returned to the computer some time later, Webster was surprised to see that a poem of some sort had been typed out on the VDU screen. At first, Webster suspected someone was pulling his leg, but hoax was soon ruled out when further messages came through. There was no modem connected to the computer (which only had 32K memory), and even the floppy disk in the machine's drive was checked, but there were no suspicious hidden files hidden on it. Webster's home also became the focus of poltergeist activity. The cooker and heavy furniture were hurled about by the invisible force, and cups and cans of food were stacked into towers and arranged side by side.

Strange messages were also scratched on the floor and wall in an elegant calligraphy, signed by one 'Tomas'. The eerie messages continued, most of them written in a 'quirky mockTudor' style. Webster tried to communicate with the mysterious writer via his computer keyboard and received several startling replies.

There were six people communicating with him from somewhere (or somewhen) back in the 17th century. But how could people from the Elizabethan period contact a teacher in the 20th century by computer? That was never answered. The main communicator identified himself as Tomas Harden, and the following message, which occupied three screens of the computer, was analysed by experts in archaic language and even the staff of the Oxford English Dictionary, who could not detect a hoaxer at work. The message from Mr Harden runs:

'Myne goodly friend, I muste needs say, how cometh this, that there are manye thyngs for whiche I hath no rekenyng. Me thinketh it, that if thou cannot telle thee for what art in myne home, then I can namoor helpe yow than if myne witts had gone. I hath no kinfolk to fynd, myne wif was wreched with thy pestilence and the Lord didst take here soule and her unbore son (1517). Myne farme 'tis humble but it hath a pretty parcel o land, it hath redstoon footyngs and cleen rushes on myne beeten floor. This season I hath much to do, I hath to sow myne barly for myne ale, 'tis this that is myne craft and for whiche I am beste atte I fancy. Also I hath to go to Nantwhiche to myne cowthe freend Richard Wishal whois farme be so greet as to turn a four yeer rotacion o fallow. I do do envye him he hath much there, but nought that delits me moor than his cheese it cannot be equalled by any other for pleasantness of taste and wholesomness of digestion. I shall als calle atte Nantwyche Market 'tis not so greet as Cestre market by thy crios but 'tis of som desport. I shal need to go to Cestre this season to get myne soes, myne goodly freend Tomas Aldersay, a tailor by craft, makes them sometymes, I als mayketh soes but non of myne swyne are reedy 'tis far costly unlest I need kil one. Do you knoweth the country of Cestre the Water Gate is a plas that bringeth manye traders 'tis a shame the port doth shrynk I can record greet shipps now they grow small by each tyde, but Cestre port is still greeter than that o Leverpoole I am oft to the east wall of Cestre. Cow Lane, 'tis not so tyresome than that by the crois that it when myne fowl or swyne doth not trip up myne poore body I hear telle that thou art a teache in Hawardine doth yow meeneth Haodine cloth, thou stil earn thy greetly sum of twenty pounds per yeer I recorde myne unfavourable dean Henry Mann, who is likened to a fissh 'If any boy shal appear naturally avers to learning aft fair trial he shalt be expelled else wher lest lik a drone he should devour the bees honey'. Ney I cannot make merry on holy day for feer of myne lif myne freen was once a floytinge on a holy day did hath hus ears pinned to thy wood bloc methinks when thou sayeth Dodleston yow meeneth Dudlestun. Myne Queen is of cource Katherine Parr.'

The Society for Psychical Research (SPR) were invited to investigate, and accepted the invitation. The SPR is a highly professional and unbiased investigative body of scholars and scientists who look into alleged paranormal incidents.

The Society was founded in 1882 and has investigated thousands of hauntings and mediums with strict scientific method. Many mediums were debunked by the SPR and a lot of hauntings were also discredited, but the SPR investigation into Ken Webster's seemingly haunted computer resulted in an electrifying development.

The SPR investigators left ten secret questions on the computer screen, out of sight of Mr Webster, and although the questions were not answered directly. Messages came through on the screen refering to the questions, which naturally fazed the SPR people. This ruled out any deception, and an SPR investigator urged the sinister communicator to reply to the questions. A chilling reply came back. The communicator would give an answer to the SPR investigator - if he was willing to lose his soul.

The SPR man backed off. The BBC micro was later stripped and experts scrutinised its printed circuit boards, its monitor, disk drive, keyboard, every inch of the machine, but there were no hidden radio transcievers and no modem. In those days, the Internet in Britain was just a programmer's pipe dream. The SPR people were completely baffled and withdrew from the cottage without even making a report. The chief investigator never got back to Webster and became uncontactable for years.

Ken Webster became frustrated at the ham-fisted inquiry and wrote a book about his bizarre experience called The Vertical Plane. In April 1986, Tomas Harden said he was going to 'leave the area' and after a few more messages, the 17th century computer hacker ceased communication.

The aforementioned timewarp cases seem to indicate that all time is eternally present, so to speak; that all of the historical periods of the past, present and future are contained within each other like Russian dolls.
As you read this screen right now, perhaps beyond the wafer-thin dimension of the present, a ravenous sabre-toothed tiger of the Pleistocene Era is prowling through your room. Until we learn how to manipulate time, we will go through this life as if our heads were facing back to front; we only know where we have been and where we are, but can never know where we are going.

"The greatest things on earth are us,supposedly.
Why don't we act accordingly, with humanity" Rizze

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 8:47 pm » by Bettyboolean

I heard there was a time warp at the bottom of Bold Street caused by the electro magnetic loop of the railway system Central station has an exit onto Bold street and is one of the stations in a circular loop of track. An accidental dimensional doorway perhaps

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 8:57 pm » by Rizze

bettyboolean wrote:I heard there was a time warp at the bottom of Bold Street caused by the electro magnetic loop of the railway system Central station has an exit onto Bold street and is one of the stations in a circular loop of track. An accidental dimensional doorway perhaps

The electro magnetic loop makes good sense :flop:

Also there are closed and bricked up doorways down there.
Doorways that lead to where?I don't know, but my best guess is they may have been for evacuation during the war.

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Why don't we act accordingly, with humanity" Rizze

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PostFri Sep 11, 2009 10:19 pm » by Snake Plissken

Great post, despite a keen interest in this kind of stuff, i had not read any of these stories before. :flop:
"The more things change the more they stay the same..."

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PostSat Sep 12, 2009 10:58 am » by Bettyboolean

rizze wrote:
The electro magnetic loop makes good sense :flop:

Also there are closed and bricked up doorways down there.
Doorways that lead to where?I don't know, but my best guess is they may have been for evacuation during the war.

it's totally like portals to other worlds :shock:

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PostSat Sep 12, 2009 12:25 pm » by Rizze

bettyboolean wrote:
rizze wrote:
The electro magnetic loop makes good sense :flop:

Also there are closed and bricked up doorways down there.
Doorways that lead to where?I don't know, but my best guess is they may have been for evacuation during the war.

it's totally like portals to other worlds :shock:

This is what it looks like now


This is what it used to look like, this pic is on the opposite line,approx two metres away.


Further up, and to the right of the train is a doorway.
Can't see it here, but I have seen it for myself.
There are also veins of iron in the stone work.That may account for the magnetism travelling upwards and on to the street above.

I used to walk the underground when I was a youngster,not allowed and against the law.
But hey, I was a total scamp then.

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Why don't we act accordingly, with humanity" Rizze

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PostSat Sep 12, 2009 2:06 pm » by Achnaton

I believe it's about perspection, how our brain decodes frequencies of information like light or sound.

The Human sense of sight is very limited and our understanding of time and dimensions is aswell.

Entities are always arround us so lighten up ;)


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