Ghost stories remain part of Plymouth’s streetscape
Plymouth’s relationship with the supernatural is as old as some of its buildings. For decades, residents and visitors have exchanged accounts of sighting Victorian figures, unexplained sounds and the occasional disembodied voice. Those stories form the backbone of Spirit of Plymouth Walking Tours, run by Vicki Noel Harrington, who has made a career of guiding people through the city’s spookier past.
Harrington said the town is peppered with places where people claim to have felt a presence or witnessed strange occurrences. Many of those tales centre on North Street and Burial Hill, where monuments and old houses carry local reputations that have persisted for generations.
- House of Blue Blinds, North Street – associated with the memory of Miriam Goodrich and, reportedly, her cat, Blackie.
- Spooner House, North Street – windows and blinds said to move when buildings are otherwise empty.
- Burial Hill – specific monuments where some visitors feel physically unwell.
One often-repeated story concerns the former House of Blue Blinds, where Goodrich is said to have run a tearoom with her sister. Harrington described how relatives allegedly requested that Goodrich’s ashes and those of her cat be interred beneath a garden tree. That connection to the spot is part of what keeps the house on local ghost maps.
“People say they’ve felt her presence, a cool breeze, and the smell of lilac perfume,”
The story is accompanied by the more mischievous tale of Blackie, the cat who, according to local lore, may still roam the neighbourhood. Harrington emphasises the difficulty of distinguishing between a living animal and a spectral one, noting the blurred line many locals accept between the everyday and the uncanny.
Voices, moving blinds and uneasy monuments
Other incidents on Harrington’s tours point to more direct encounters. She recalled a plumber repairing a toilet in a historic North Street building who, while working, heard a voice behind him say, “It’s broken.” After checking the building and finding no one, the worker returned to his task only to hear the words again, repeated from behind him. The experience was enough to make him flee the premises.
At the Spooner House, Harrington and others have reported blinds moving when no one appears to be inside. On one occasion, a shade reportedly flew up with a bang, prompting those on the street to run away in alarm. These anecdotes contribute to a local atmosphere in which even mundane sights – a twitch in a window shade – gain a charged meaning.
Burial Hill also looms large in the tour narrative. Harrington said she avoids the site after dark and described feeling physically unwell near certain monuments, naming the extensive Cushman monument as a focal point for that sensation. She has also told of a visitor who developed unexplained scratches while leaning against a memorial during a daytime tour.
| Location | Reported phenomenon |
|---|---|
| House of Blue Blinds (North Street) | Presence of Miriam Goodrich; scent of lilac; cat called Blackie |
| Spooner House (North Street) | Blinds moving; sudden noises |
| Burial Hill | Physical sickness near Cushman monument; unexplained scratches |
For many locals, these stories are part of Plymouth’s character rather than cause for alarm. Harrington’s walks attract those curious about local history as much as those searching for thrills. Her accounts blend architectural and family histories with the oral traditions that keep such tales alive.
Whether visitors take them as literal hauntings or atmospheric storytelling, the narratives connect people to corners of the city they might otherwise pass without a second glance. The buildings, monuments and backstreets involved are reminders of Plymouth’s layered past – social, domestic and, for some, supernatural.
Harrington’s tours underline how folklore and place interact in Plymouth: long-standing stories become part of the map, and the built environment is read through them. For residents who grew up with talk of apparitions and unexplained noises, such stories are woven into the fabric of everyday life. For newcomers and tourists, they offer another, fringe window onto the city’s history.
