Running tours through the secret haunts of London keep locals and out-of-towners alike on their toes this Halloween
It’s a misty Tuesday evening in late October and I have exchanged the usual track session with my club for a run with another, quite bizarre group. My heart is thumping hard, not just through exertion but because I’ve had the bejesus scared out of me by a spectre in medieval dress topped off by distinctly porcine features.
“Waaaah! It’s the pig-headed woman of Primrose Hill!” screams Lucy, and we all leg it. The creepy apparition melts into the pitch darkness and our unexpected sprint slows into an easy jog. We giggle, nervously.
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