A strange encounter at Barbican

I have been a frequent visitor to the Barbican Estate for many years, particularly when the Museum of London was still open, and have continued to visit regularly, for one reason or another, more over the past eighteen months or so.

One aspect of the Barbican that is often overlooked by visitors, and even by some residents, is the immense depth of history that lies beneath and around it. From the obvious remains of the Roman Wall to the plague pits, the Barbican and its surrounding area have witnessed more than their fair share of London's history. Of course, with so much history comes the occasional encounter that is not quite so easy to explain.

Accounts of strange goings-on are seemingly endless, but I thought I would share one particular tale that has always intrigued me. I shall leave you to make up your own mind about what might have happened.

Behind the scenes at the Barbican, there is a whole team of people working around the clock, covering shifts twenty-four hours a day. It is that sort of place. Security staff who patrol the busy public areas during the day must also make their rounds through deserted corridors at night, when nobody is supposed to be there.

From time to time, members of the security team need to take a break. When they do, some seek out the solitude of an unoccupied room where they can enjoy a few minutes of peace, free from interruptions. More importantly, they can be reasonably sure that nobody else should be there either.

On one occasion, a security guard radioed Control to say that he was taking his break. He switched his two-way radio to silent and made his way to one of the small cinemas. The seats were comfortable and inviting, providing the perfect place to relax and perhaps catch a few minutes sleep.

The guard entered the cinema and settled into one of the back row seats. The screen was concealed behind a curtain, with several rows of seats descending towards the front. Inside, there was almost complete silence. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. In that quiet solitude, the guard soon nodded off.

He must have been asleep for around twenty minutes when he woke and glanced at his watch. But something caught his eye. Someone was sitting in one of the front-row seats. They shouldn't have been there. Who were they? How had they got in? And, more importantly, why were they there?

The person remained perfectly still, sitting upright and staring straight ahead. The guard immediately felt uneasy. It was the early hours of the morning. The cinema had been closed for some time. There was simply no reason for anyone to be inside. Yet there they were.

The guard was about to call out (snapping back into his role as security guard) when the figure slowly turned in their seat and looked directly at him. They said nothing. They simply stared. By now, the guard had had enough. He was preparing to switch on his radio and make a hasty exit. There was no way he intended to remain in that cinema a moment longer than necessary. 

Then, without warning, the person in the front row let out an extraordinarily loud scream. The guard bolted. He abandoned his jacket and two-way radio where they lay and fled towards the exit. In his haste, he tripped and fell as he ran along the corridor towards the stairway, heart pounding and panic starting to set in, but he quickly picked himself up and continued running.

He made straight for the Control Room, arriving in such a state of fear that he could barely explain what he had seen and heard. Other members of the security team joined him, and together they returned to the cinema to investigate. When they arrived, they found the guard's jacket and radio exactly where he had left them. As for the person in the front row, they had vanished.

The team checked the emergency exits at the sides of the cinema. Both were locked. They opened them to investigate finding nothing beyond but narrow corridors leading to another corridor and, eventually, a door to a stairway. That door was locked too. There was nowhere obvious for anyone to have gone. The limited security camera footage showed the security guard running however there was nothing captured of the unknown visitor. 

The guard completed his shift but made one thing perfectly clear: he would never patrol anywhere near that part of the building again. He worked a few more shifts without incident but resigned shortly afterwards. 

So, the story ends. Or perhaps it doesn't. There are so many other accounts of unexplained noises, objects seemingly being moved of their own accord, and figures seen where nobody should be. Far too many, in fact, to recount in a single blog post. Perhaps I'll share a few more another time.

The Barbican is a fascinating place, not just for its architecture and history, but also for the stories that seem to linger in its quieter corners. So, if you happen to be passing through the Barbican late at night, you might want to think twice before stopping for too long. If you do decide to linger, perhaps take someone with you. Or bring your Brompton!

At least then, should anything strange happen, you can unfold it, jump on and pedal furiously away in the hope that whatever you encountered has been left far behind…

Until next time, stay safe out there, people!