A Night Inside Wymering Manor
What We Found in One of England’s Most Haunted Houses
Some places have a reputation that precedes them. Wymering Manor is one of them.
Tucked away in Portsmouth, it's a building that doesn't shout for attention - it doesn't need to. From the moment you walk through the door, there's a stillness, a watchfulness, that settles around you. The air feels heavy with memory. History clings to the floorboards. And whether you believe in ghosts or not, there's no denying that something lingers.
So when I was offered the chance to investigate Wymering Manor on a private overnight event with Paranormal Presence, I said yes without hesitation. I'd heard stories, watched footage, and listened to podcasts - but nothing quite prepares you for being alone in the dark with the past pressing in.
A House Built on Layers
Wymering Manor isn't just the oldest house in Portsmouth - it's a rare surviving fragment of English domestic history, layered with stories from every era it's lived through.
The manor's foundations are believed to sit on Roman ground, with local records confirming the presence of a Roman settlement in the area. By the time of the Domesday Book in 1086, a structure already existed on this site. The core of the current building dates back to the late 16th century, but sections of timber framing suggest even earlier medieval origins. It's a patchwork of centuries: Tudor beams meet Georgian fireplaces, and Elizabethan windows sit beneath Victorian plasterwork.
Over the years, it passed through the hands of numerous families, including the Brunnings, the Biggs, and later the Terry family, each of whom left their mark. The house was used as a vicarage for a period and even survived wartime bombings with only minor damage. In the 20th century, it was converted into a youth hostel. It later fell into disrepair before being saved by local preservation efforts.
Its structure is full of quirks: priest holes, secret staircases, bricked-off passageways, and a rumoured tunnel leading to the church across the road. These are the architectural scars of a building that has adapted, survived, and hidden more than a few secrets.
And then there are the hauntings.
Reports stretch back generations: phantom monks, ghostly choirs, footsteps on stairs that no longer exist. Some visitors claim to see a dark-robed woman - dubbed the "Bloody Nun" - gliding silently through the upper floors. Others hear children crying or voices calling their names when no one is around. Mirrors are said to reflect unfamiliar faces. Even among seasoned investigators, Wymering is rarely dismissed - because too many people walk away from it with an experience they can't explain.
The Night We Investigated
We began our investigation in the cellar — a low, narrow space where the walls feel too close, and the silence is anything but empty. With our K2 meters, REM pod, Teddy Trigger object, Hexcom, and Spirit Talker active, we began calling out. It didn’t take long before names started coming through: Joan, Dorothy, Steven, Karl, Bram, and Nicholas. The name Nicholas felt exceptionally responsive, with thuds and tapping sounds answering our questions almost on cue.
Eventually, things quietened down, so we moved into the Base Room, but the energy didn’t follow us. Outside, we wandered the grounds, trying to determine where the original stables might’ve stood. We suspect an area near the current car park. While walking, I looked back towards the manor and saw something — a shadow moving up the cellar steps and peeking out around the door. It was brief but clear enough to leave me frozen.
We headed straight back inside. This time, we set up light sensors and monitored the space with a thermal camera. Almost immediately, the light sensors began triggering — not at random, but in an orderly sequence, as if something was walking away from us, deeper into the cellar. No heat signatures were visible on the thermal imaging despite the clear signs of movement.
Our second vigil took us upstairs to the parlour, where Charlotte attempted mirror scrying. While she focused on the glass, Harmony reported seeing a shadowy figure pass the window — twice. Charlotte described the space behind her becoming blurry. Her reflection distorted, and when it returned to normal, there was a visible dark mark over one eyebrow that hadn’t been there before.
From there, we moved into the entrance room — a space that feels deceptively calm during the day but carries a charge after dark. We set up our usual equipment and formed a circle around the table to hold a séance. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
David felt a light touch on the top of his head. Harmony experienced the sensation of her hair being gently lifted. I felt a subtle but distinct tug at the back of mine. The presence seemed to be circling us. Charlotte and I were holding hands, and at one point, her free arm began to feel heavy — almost like someone was pressing it down. She described it as turning to dead weight. The moment the circle was broken, the feeling disappeared completely.
For our final vigil, we returned to the upper floors. We began in the room with the priest hole, using the laser grid and trying the Estes Method — but it remained quiet. We decided to move on to a separate, smaller room further along the corridor, and this is where things escalated.
David was the first to go under using the Estes Method and quickly removed his blindfold after hearing a voice say, “Get out.” Harmony followed and was met with the phrase, “Get away, Hedger,” — which is her surname. Charlotte went in last and came back almost immediately after hearing, “I don’t like it.” All three of them ended the sessions within moments of starting. While this was happening, the teddy trigger object began flashing again — consistent, rapid bursts that felt reactive to the energy in the room.
We ended the night with a walkthrough of the top floor but didn’t encounter any further phenomena.
The Activity: What Stood Out
This was one of the most varied nights I’ve had in a long time — not in the sense of explosive, constant activity. But, in the types of responses we experienced. What stood out most was how physical it all felt.
From the cellar's shadow play and sequential sensor activations to the moment my hair lifted and Charlotte's arm went heavy — the energy was tactile, almost intimate. There was a very real sense that something was moving between us, testing boundaries, seeing how far it could go before we’d say stop.
The Estes Method responses were pointed and personal. No one was expecting to be named — or warned off — but that’s precisely what happened. The fact that each person heard a variation of the same kind of rejection (“Get out,” “Get away,” “I don’t like it”) suggests we weren’t welcome in that space, and whatever was there wanted to make it very clear.
Mirror scrying also gave us something genuinely eerie. Watching someone else change — subtly, then unmistakably — and hearing that others were seeing shadow figures at the same time added another layer to the experience.
Final Thoughts
Wymering Manor doesn’t give you everything at once. It builds. It waits. It watches. And if you’re open to it, it begins to interact in deeply personal ways.
It’s one of the few locations I’ve visited where the house itself felt like a participant — not just the spirits inside it. The pacing, the atmosphere, the types of interaction — it all felt orchestrated. Not random. Not accidental.
I left with more questions than answers but also with a sense that something meaningful had happened. Not dramatic. Not cinematic. But subtle and unsettling in a way that stays with you long after the doors are locked.
I’d go back without hesitation. But I’d go back with respect — and with the complete understanding that Wymering doesn’t just let you in. It chooses what you see.