HAVING read your front page about ghosts I felt I must tell you of the time I saw one.   At the beginning of the war I was an 11-year-old lad evacuated from London to stay with an aunt in a remote village in mid-Wales.   My aunt was the village postmistress.

One autumn evening a telegram arrived for 'Jones the Cwm'. This was a farm a mile or so from the village along an unsurfaced lane between high hedges. I was told to deliver the telegram and given a candle-lit lantern to help me on the way.

I was nearing the village on my return journey when the lane passed a narrow entrance into the chapel cemetery. As I passed the opening I glimpsed a tall white shape hovering in the graveyard. I was terrified, dropped the lantern and ran all the way home as fast as I could.

My aunt laughed at me and next morning took me along to recover the lantern. There by the gateway was my ghost – a tall white tombstone.   Yes, I believe in ghosts.

– B.C. Baker, Allastone Road, Lydney.