THE picture that was published from years ago of No 1, Salisbury Road (Back Though the Pages, 2 March) unlocked my memory box.

When I was a young lad my mum used to take me and my sister Tina to the cinema.

The Odeon or Savoy. Westerns were a favourite and I particularly remember The Man From Laramie, starring James Stewart.

As I grew older and into double figures along came Hammer House of Horror.

Crash, bang, wallop went my overactive mind.

It was visiting places I never knew existed, for here in Andover we had our own House of Horror. It was located near the bottom of Salisbury Road. The old mansion had windows beyond repair, roof beyond redemption, and contents unknown.

Sometimes on a dark night’s walk home my fertile imagination would see a shrouded figure, possibly the ghost of the one-time owner Mr T Lamb (1893), lurking within its decaying walls.

Bats hanging from the rotten rafters. Sinister creaks and groans would emanate into the dark, foreboding evening air. But truly, as I made my way home one very gloomy night, with the cold mist descending, the impenetrable darkness of the waiting shadows suddenly came to life! A mysterious hooded figure dressed in black confronted this already vulnerable young teenager.

The startling form mumbled incomprehensively as the poor street lighting picked out a pair of wrinkled hands as they reached out towards me … alas the world record for the fastest 400 metres was never timed that night!

The mansion was called The Elms and in my vividly coloured imagination was certainly a horror story waiting to unfold.

I certainly looked under the bed that night!

John Porter, Millway Road, Andover