"How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Dark"
Diary extracts by Chris Britton (director of Photography).

Day 1 - Wed 20th Feb' 2002
Spirits are high on set. Apparently they reside mostly in the highest chambers found in this eerie old mansion; the attic. Our host and patron, Michael Goodden, had been good enough to divulge some of the secrets hidden within the walls of Compton House. Were I to believe his tales I would not even step foot in the grounds.

The derivation behind such an innocuous name as 'Compton' must surly serve as a mechanism to lower the outsiders' defences. Just as the ironic prefix, Great, in Great Britain conjures up the image of an eminent nation - a sore disappointment to any newcomer.

Pulling into the driveway of this foreboding gothic structure soon dispels any such benign thoughts. The first thing that enters your head being the hope that you might one day safely leave... alive.

I am reminded of Hill House from 'The Haunting' only this house is real. Real scary. With all the money in the world you couldn't build a set able to yield the same portentous atmosphere. There is a certain amount of respect that a building of this stature and so steeped in history commands.

For the next 2 months we will working, eating and sleeping in a building that has stood for over 1000 years and is listed in the Doomsday book. Will we too join the undead? If so please list us in the Condemnedsday Book when it is written.

Our runners, Dom and Mani, are fantastic cooks. Dom has always had to cook for himself because his mum had no arms. Mani learnt to cook in film school; which is probably why he's the only graduate from his year in work.

After a feast fit for 2 kings, we ambled up to the attic and proceeded to get our first shots in the bag. We simply filmed Paul (the lead actor) performing the rituals of preparing his paints and applying those first marks to his blank canvas. Paul is a successful painter in his own right (he won the Turner Prize last year). However, he can't actually paint so we commissioned one of Mike's colleagues, Emma, to render the horrific paintings.

One by one the crew excused themselves and retired to bed, Paul being the last to leave when he realised he was all alone.

Day 2 - Thurs 21st Feb' 2002
The obnoxious chirpy voice of a Welshman on the clock radio was the first sound to assault our senses 3 hours after turning in the night before.

There is no hot water in the house and this morning I braved one of the worst showers I've ever endured. I was the only man stupid enough to subject myself to what I've now dubbed the 'Cower Shower'.

Craig and I took Paul up onto set and began blocking the first scene of the day. He fell into character with remarkable ease. This house seems to be helping all of us in its own strange way. We picked up the scene from the night before and completed it in time for a very late lunch, coinciding with the arrival of our second actor Jonathan, and our boom op. Nick.

I set about lighting for the next scene between Paul and John in the hothouse. Although old friends, there is a certain hostility required between John and Paul's characters in the script that we need to get across. Fortunately for us, they seem to have developed this feeling naturally towards each other without any direction from Craig.

Jonathan is finding the house harder to deal with than anyone else. Nobody takes greater joy from this fact than Paul. He relishes every opportunity to further enhance John's fear.

We shot on through until the early hours, ending up in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to the actors, Craig had replaced the contents of the Jack Daniels bottle with an alcohol free substitute. This last scene entailed the two characters sharing a whiskey-induced conversation over the kitchen table. Neither Paul nor John like JD and so were not surprised at the taste of what they believed to be the genuine article. They proceeded to get inebriated through the course of playing out the scene. It wasn't until we wrapped that it became apparent the guys really were drunk. There appear to be malevolent spirits at work here…

Day 3 - Fri 22nd Feb' 2002
Some joker has written 'REDRUM' on the bathroom mirror. I suspect John or Paul scrawled it in their drunken stupor last night. Surely they know that Jack Daniels is a bourbon and not a rum.

I watched the rushes from the hothouse the previous day and decided we needed to re-film some shots where the rushes had blown too far into frame and were obscuring Paul.

Day 4 - Sat 23rd Feb' 2002
After a successful day's filming in the attic we took a break together and watched everything we've shot so far on a decent monitor. Everybody seems to be very happy with the results. I'm a little concerned by what appears to be fogging in a couple of places. Fogging is usually caused by stray light finding its way into the camera and creating a haze over the image but in this case it occurs behind Jonathan's shoulder every time he stands by the door.

Nick proceeded to spook us all. He didn't tell us at the time but when we were filming the scene he had heard children's whispering in the background. What's strange is that the voices haven't recorded on the soundtrack. I'm sure it's just his imagination - we're all getting a little tired on 3 hours sleep a night.

Day 5 - Sun 24th Feb' 2002
Shooting resumes as normal but there is definitely a loss of energy on set. We have exhausted every possibility for freaking each other out and are channelling all of our limited verve into the filming process.

I have insisted to Craig that we wrap earlier tonight and let everybody enjoy a full 5 or 6 hours sleep. We have already taken to letting the actors disappear off for snoozes in-between set-ups.

Day 6 - Mon 25th Feb' 2002
I felt human again after our indulgent 4 hours sleep. I awoke to find Craig sleeping in John's bed and no sign of John or his things. Nobody is quite sure how or why John left us last night. Craig is especially pissed off because we needed him for another couple of days. He also can't remember getting into John's bed last night. I decided it was better not to pry.

Unfortunately, we are also losing Dom and Mani later on today. They have to return to London to work on a new soap for men. I'm going to miss them almost as much as I'll miss their exceptional culinary skills. Dom has kindly made us a pasta bake, which we can throw in the oven later.

My fiancé's cousin, who is also called Mani, will be travelling across from Bristol this evening to help out in their place. He works as a runner on 'Casualty', so I'm sure he'll fit in here like a rubber glove.

Day 7 - Tues 26th Feb' 2002
I have been worried about this shower scene for some time now. If it is not handled in the right way it will be in danger of looking ridiculous. The idea is really very simple.

Paul (the artist) takes a shower and whilst rinsing the lather from his face and body eventually notices blood dripping from the ceiling. He gets worked up into a frenzy before realising it's all been in his mind and that the shower is perfectly normal.

One thing that really helped add authenticity was the use of real blood (this was actually Paul's idea). Everyday our nurse has been taking a pint of Paul's blood. As he explained this would serve for 2 purposes: (i) it would further enhance the gaunt look he was anxious to exude, (ii) he was doubtful he could pull off such a performance as was required if he knew the blood was just treacle and food colouring.

This was going to be a one-take wonder; Paul refusing to do it more than once - understandably. The special effects team engineered a great false ceiling that the blood would ooze from. After 5 hours of preparation we were ready for the hardest shot of the film.

Paul announced that he was 'in his zone' and so we all assumed our positions. Mani stood on a ladder with a huge syringe full of Paul's blood, ready to let it flow on cue. The camera rolled and Craig called 'Action'.

I was so taken in by Paul's performance and the horrific blood pouring from the ceiling, falling all around him, that I found it difficult to operate without shaking. It wasn't until we played it back through the monitor that we knew we had got our money shot. Paul was ecstatic, and deservedly so.

I had to leave while the others cleaned out the shower. I normally don't have a problem with blood but that was all too much for me.

Day 8 - Wed 27th Feb' 2002
Although the boys had done a great job of cleaning out the bathroom, I couldn't bring myself to get in that shower and so I had a lightning fast body wash by the basin.

I don't know when we finally turned in last night. Time doesn't seem to exist here. We have all taken to using the growth of Paul's beard to gage the advancement of time.

Day 9 - Thurs 28th Feb' 2002
To my relief, we are filming at the foot of the old staircase this morning. I'm starting to dread going up into the attic now so this is a very welcome break.

There is a beautiful stained glass window half way up the staircase. I found a piece of square, colourless glass to look through that was relatively free from cobwebs and savoured what felt like my first glance of the outside world in daylight for eons. There were peacocks preening themselves on the lawn and up in the field I could make out the sheep grazing away. To my disbelief it appeared as if one of the sheep was sat on the sty knitting something from its own wool. Maybe it was cold and needed a jumper.

We reluctantly made our way on up to the studio and I watched as Paul rehearsed the scene through. After lighting and blocking the scene with Craig I was ready to film. Craig was ready to film. Paul was ready to film. The house was not. We have experienced a few power surges in our time here but this one was quite unique. Not only were our lights flickering in unison (strange, given that they are fed from three separate ring mains) but the camera kept cutting out too. There is no logical explanation for the camera dying because it runs on its own battery. I tried changing the battery but no joy. After a couple more surges the power just cut out, leaving us in total darkness. I fumbled to find my Maglite and desperately turned it on. It pulsed a few times (nothing unusual) and then died. We all just sat together very calmly waiting for something to happen. We did not even exchange looks or words. There was an unspoken understanding that we were about to see or hear something and yet none of us were frightened. I can't explain it.

We sat there for what felt like 15 minutes, but was probably only 5. Our senses were all finely tuned to pick up the first signs of another presence. Nothing happened. Paul was the first to speak. He suggested that we go downstairs and join the others. As he reached for the door one of the candles by his easel caught alight, flickered for a few seconds and extinguished itself. That was enough for me.

I didn't get a wink of sleep that night.

Day 10 - Fri 29th Feb' 2002
I spent all night reading and was quietly relieved when Mani started stirring. I was not alone any more. He looked at me as if to ask why my light was on, squinted his eyes and rolled back over to sleep. This has been the hardest night of my life. I even prayed for the first time in about 20 years. I had difficulty reciting the Lord's Prayer and was stuck in a loop around that part 'lead us not into temptation but deliver us from this house'. The radio eventually kicked in and the familiar voice of our chirpy Welsh DJ was, for the first time, a very welcoming sound.

The three of us disclosed the night's events to everyone at breakfast. We all sat around the table and, one by one, reached a consensus that it was time we left Compton House. Craig set off to discuss this matter with Mike and his parents whilst we set about packing everything up for our trip back to London. It's funny, a part of me is drawn to this house and wants to stay but my survival instincts are telling me to get the hell out of here, while we can.

Mike and Craig joined us a couple of hours later with Mr. and Mrs. Goodden. They insisted that we should leave for now, until they get to the bottom of these disturbances.

Apparently the house was purged of malevolent spirits in the late seventies by a local spiritualist who drove them out, over the course of a week, by invocation.

The cameraman in me is bitterly frustrated to have to leave this film early. I have never felt so deeply absorbed in a project. London feels a million miles away from here and I'm afraid that when I'm back in her safe confines, I won't want to return ever again.