Oddly Harriet

17/06/2026

Working on this bad boy today. My biggest sculpture yet.

15/06/2026

A little spooky legend for you, my lovely followers.

The chilling legend of Headless Bert at Robin Hood’s Bay. 👻

Robin Hood’s Bay has its fair share of ghost stories, but few are quite as eerie as the tale of Headless Bert.

Local legend tells of Bert Marshall, a Yorkshire farmer known for being extremely careful with his money. So careful, in fact, that the story claims he once stole a set of dentures from a co**se rather than pay for new teeth.

While Bert was reluctant to spend money on most things, he was said to make an exception for a drink. Every Friday night, he would walk around five miles along the old Whitby to Scarborough railway line to visit the Windmill Inn.

One evening, after leaving the pub, Bert began his usual journey home along the tracks. According to the tale, he stumbled in the darkness and lost his false teeth. As he bent down to find them, he fell onto the railway line and was knocked unconscious.

Tragically, an oncoming train is said to have decapitated him.

At the time, many believed a person needed to be buried whole for their spirit to rest. Because Bert’s body was not complete, his ghost is said to still wander the old railway route on moonless nights.

Some say he can be seen searching for his missing head, still carrying his false teeth.

So, if you’re ever walking near Robin Hood’s Bay after dark, listen carefully… you might just hear the faint clatter of Bert’s dentures in the night.

11/06/2026

A brief notice from the Department of Unexplained Absences:

It has come to my attention that I have been rather scarce of late. This regrettable state of affairs may be attributed to a most inconsiderate bout of illness, which arrived entirely uninvited and promptly took up residence as though it had paid rent.

The ghosts have been left to their own devices, the curiosities have gathered a fine layer of dust, and several half-finished projects now stare at me reproachfully from various corners of the house.

I am pleased to report that I am gradually returning to the land of the ‘living’, armed with a cup of tea and a determination to resume normal service as soon as possible.

Thank you for your patience whilst I have been temporarily waylaid by weak constitutions and mysterious ailments. I shall be back to making curious things and telling peculiar stories very soon.

Yours apologetically,

Oddly Harriet.

09/06/2026

05/06/2026

I’ve created many ghosts.

This one unsettled me.

Inspired by one of Yorkshire’s most infamous legends, a new haunted creation is emerging from the shadows.

The Black Monk of Pontefract.

Soon, you’ll meet him.

03/06/2026

This poor old painting was found looking as though it had survived several wars, a family feud, and perhaps a stint in a damp attic. It was battered, its surface weary, and most sensible people would have passed it by…Naturally, I brought it home.

There is something magical about rescuing forgotten things. Beneath the cracks and scuffs was a painting that simply needed someone to believe it still had stories to tell.

After a little care and perhaps a conversation or two with the spirits that seem to follow me everywhere, the piece found a new purpose. Its empty corners are now occupied by a gathering of gentle ghosts, lingering between worlds and causing no trouble whatsoever.

I like to think they were there all along, waiting for someone to notice them.

From neglected and nearly discarded to delightfully haunted, proof that even worn out treasures deserve a second chance.

02/06/2026

Nestled beneath glass, these curious little inhabitants have acquired an unfortunate reputation. Whether this is due to their glassy stare, their uncanny expressions, or the persistent feeling that they are watching from the corner of the room remains uncertain.

Officially, they are handcrafted artworks.

Unofficially, I make no guarantees regarding spiritual tenancy.

Display at your own risk ⚠️

31/05/2026

Red thread was never just thread.

It’s been tied, worn, and kept close for a long time, not for decoration, but for what it’s meant to do.

Across different cultures, it’s been used for protection.

Something simple, worn against the skin, to guard against what isn’t always seen. Unwanted energy. Attention that lingers too long. Things you can feel… but don’t always have words for.

But it was also believed to carry something else.
A connection.
A quiet link between what’s meant to reach you… and what isn’t.

Some say it should be tied by someone else.

Because not everything protective comes from control.

Some things come from knowing you don’t have to hold everything on your own.

- The Solitary Witch

31/05/2026

Laura Hodson you are the winner!! Please message me so I can get the lucky little ghost sent to you 👻