The Hoop and Grapes

The Hoop and Grapes in Aldgate is one of London’s oldest surviving buildings, with parts dating back to 1175, and one of the precious few structures to survive the Great Fire of London in 1666. This ancient survival has made it a repository for spirits from multiple eras of London’s history, most notably the victims of the Great Plague of 1665. Witnesses have reported seeing figures covered in sores and pustules appearing in the building, their faces twisted in agony before they fade away, leaving behind the smell of sickness and decay. Staff have reported feeling suddenly feverish and ill when entering certain areas of the pub, symptoms that disappear immediately upon leaving, as if passing through the residual energy of the plague victims who once sought refuge or died in the building.

The pub’s cellars, which date to medieval times, are intensely active with paranormal phenomena. Staff descending to change barrels have reported hearing anguished moans and cries for help coming from the darkness, and the apparition of a woman holding a child has been seen huddled in the corner of the cellar, both figures appearing emaciated and desperate before vanishing. There are persistent reports of doors locking and unlocking on their own, objects being moved by invisible hands, and the overwhelming sensation of being touched or grabbed by something unseen in the underground spaces. The medieval portions of the building seem to amplify these experiences, as if the age of the structure itself thins the barrier between the living and the dead.

Above ground, the pub experiences regular supernatural activity including the sound of people fleeing in panic, as if recreating the chaos of Londoners trying to escape the advancing fire in 1666. Witnesses have reported smelling smoke and seeing flames reflected in windows and mirrors despite no fire being present, and the temperature in certain rooms will spike dramatically for no apparent reason. The ghost of a man in Cavalier-era clothing has been seen looking out the windows as if watching the city burn, his expression one of horror and disbelief. Glasses and bottles have been known to shatter spontaneously, furniture creaks and shifts as if bearing invisible weight, and staff have reported hearing archaic English spoken in fearful whispers coming from empty rooms. The Hoop and Grapes stands as a haunted monument to London’s survival through plague, fire, and centuries of human suffering, and the spirits of those who experienced these calamities seem bound to the building for eternity.