After a long shift at Laings Foundry the only thing on Jerry Carrol's mind was a good kip. But like so many times, when someone really needs sleep it's the hardest thing to achieve.
It was around four in the morning on a beautiful calm night in the early seventies, so Jerry decide a breath of fresh air and a couple of ciggies down by the Transporter bridge might just help him relax. There was no one else about as he got into his Morris Minor for a leisurely drive home along the Main Port Clarence Road.
As he passed the wrought iron gates of the old St Thomas's church (which is no longer there), he was suddenly blasted back into full alertness when someone passed right in front of his car. He broke hard to avoid the figure of what seemed to be a man, or indeed a priest dressed in old fashioned black clothes. 'It didn't step across the road,' says Jerry, 'It hovered. It passed through the bonnet of my car and crossed the road as though my vehicle simply wasn't there.'
Jerry sat dumbfounded as he watched the thing cross the road and onto the railway embankment. Then it simply vanished right before his eyes. Jerry left the area at great speed for the safety of home. Needless to say Jerry never achieved his kip.
