Below is the diary kept by Jonathan Rhodes who plays the artist's friend in the film.

It's strange looking back on the filming, even just two weeks after we completed the shoot. Writing in my flat in North London, Compton House seems like a different world; and in many ways it was just that.

I think the best way for me to approach this diary (have you guessed it's actually a summary yet..?) is to do it in three stages, for the three trips I made down there. Each experience differed from the last. What I encountered there, both physically and mentally altered with each journey; but what I left with every time was a greater understanding of things I hadn't been exposed to for a while.

The train journey down to Dorset was great. It had been a while since I'd left the city and, being a country boy at heart it was a relief to plug into some tunes and gaze at London fizzling out into fields as we ploughed through Woking and Salisbury to Sherbourne.

There to meet me in his trusty steed was Craig Griffith, writer and director of TTLG and, as we drove to the house, we caught up on the path of the film since my audition some weeks previously. I was so pleased to be there as it had been in the balance whether or not I could commit to the film - things turned out in our favour and Craig had already been on location a day or two shooting with lead actor Paul McCarthy.

We turned off the A30 and trundled along the drive to Compton House and as we approached the gate I was greeted with a magnificent building. It really is a beautiful house - its stunning masonry work and huge front windows gave it immediate character and the peacocks which would interfere with the sound recording during our time there, strutted proudly around the gardens. But if I'd asked my niece to draw a picture of a haunted house, it would have looked like this; complete with the chapel and graveyard across the front lawn. This place had history.

Inside I met with the others. Chris, the DP who I'd met at the audition, the runners Manni and Dom, the sound man Nick and the other actor, Paul who was playing THE ARTIST. We didn't have long before we were ready to start shooting the first scene, aptly enough where THE FRIEND arrives at the house.

I'd experienced the paranormal and supernatural years before when I was a student at Dartington Hall in Devon, itself a medieval estate, and I have always been very accepting of these things. But having been in London for a few years, you forget about such events. As soon as I walked into that house it was apparent that we were just passing through and something else presided there, and was very definitely there to stay. However it was the afternoon and we had a scene to shoot. Besides, how can anywhere be creepy in the daytime? We began to work.

I don't recall exactly what scenes we shot that day, or the next, but as we began to shoot and discuss scenes and do the usual things you do on a film set, a few things became apparent about the relationship between Paul and I. Let's not beat around the bush and cast snide comments around: we didn't get on. But then, we weren't supposed to and I think that Craig had cast the roles perfectly. Any friction that evolved between Paul and I elicited unique performances. He's been in the business 30 years and I've been in it three - we worked in very different ways and as time went on, working sleeping and eating together, it was clear that we were very different people. His sheer volume made it hard to focus on set and I felt suffocated at times. It does seem weird writing this now, as we actually got on really well nearer the end of the shoot - I think the balance between us levelled out and we naturally hit common ground.

I never questioned him as an actor - we both turned in great performances, we just took different routes to get there. It was the clearest case of casting-to-type that I've come across and it worked, because if Paul and I had been best of friends, the scenes between us would have had such a different feel to them. More and more, parts of the film focussed on the breakdown of the relationship between THE ARTIST and THE FRIEND. We were professional about this and I can only recall one time where the friction interfered with our work, rather than added to it.

The first night we spent there, the house and its peculiarities started to affect me and I began to drift into a paranoiac state which I would never really shake off. Little things like, sudden temperature change (so much so that in a space of seconds, you would see your breath appear), or power surges and curious noises.

There was something about nightfall there which sent the fear of god into me. I was scared. Not so much of experiencing the paranormal, more WHEN was it going to happen? WHEN would I get this building tension out of my system and be on the same terms as the house? I couldn't laugh this one off and I was perpetually on edge - I would open doors at arms length and walk into wherever I was going with all senses on full alert. I would sing and talk to myself when going about the house - striding down long corridors mumbling: "Don't run, don't run…". I'd sit with everyone in the kitchen, days into the preliminary shoot, rigid from the adrenalin that was coursing from my kidneys, nervously glancing around at the door. It actually got to the stage after a few days, where I couldn't be on my own and I had to seriously consider whether I could wait until sunrise before I had to go to the toilet. Silly I know. Sitting now, in my flat with my music on, it all seems a bit silly and I could be blamed for winding myself up, inducing my own paranoia. Fair comment, to a degree. But there had been a property on the grounds of Compton House for over a thousand years, it had been a military hospital during WW1 and although I had a fear of fear itself, it wasn't without reason.

I think by now we'd met Mike, our host and part of the family line to which the house had belonged to for many generations. He'd seen a thing or two - and made great use of this throughout our stay! He confirmed suspicions I'd developed about certain areas of the house; namely the attics (one room in particular) and the stairs leading up to them. I don't think that there was anything 'bad' there - although bad things may have taken place over the years, it was not a malevolent house. But one night filming up in the attic room, I lost it.

We were shooting a scene where THE FRIEND visits THE ARTIST in his studio and leaves. Simple. Only where I exited the room, I was to remain while they finished the scene. This was out in the unlit corridor of the attics and it was scary as hell. Some of the others weren't so affected, but in the state of mind I'd got into by then it was terrifying. Then, whether I heard it, or whether I was so primed that I made myself hear it, I heard children playing. Not loudly, just softly, from halfway down one corridor by a stair well. It was 3:30am and everyone else in the house was behind the door next to me. My heart stopped and I froze to the spot as I let the sound register with my brain, then I bolted back into the room visibly shaken and yelling nonsense. I tried to laugh it off after a bit but I was gone.

That was it then. Even during the daytimes I was petrified at times. But I was there to do a job and in the main, it worked to my advantage. The nature of the house and the friction with Paul brought out all the insecure and paranoid traits of my character, which wasn't very pleasant to go through, or for other members of the crew to have to endure. But in hindsight, it added a lot more truth to the performance I was giving. In that my journey and parts of the journey of THE FRIEND were becoming one - THE FRIEND arrives at the house expectant and confident only to descend into anxiety. There's far more to THE FRIEND than that, but you get the picture. I wasn't myself at all and it was, in actual fact a fantastic experience and I learned a lot about myself and how I work.

But we were there to make a film. A very good film at that. We would watch some of the rushes from previous days and I was really impressed with the quality and style of Chris's camera work. The time and accuracy that Craig and Chris would invest into setting up shots paid dividends in playback and the teaser trailer that has been put together is very atmospheric. We lost our soundman after a couple of days (it later came to pass that he had heard children through the sound equipment one night in the attics) and Manni stepped in for him. Manni proved to be the stalwart of the operation - you name it, he did it - his steady hand served the grub one moment and guided the wheelchair dolly on some rather special shots the next. Craig and Chris have been working for a while together and they had a shared vision; this was their film and they knew what had to be done to make it look as good as it did in their heads. Watching them work was really interesting and as much as we had to diffuse the day with banter (we were all living and working out of each others pockets), we would always knuckle down for hours on end and bang out first class shots, right through till dawn.

When I left that first time, I hadn't been out of the immediate grounds of the house for five days; I'd been on four hours sleep a night, gallons of caffeine, been scared senseless and negotiated a personality clash. I felt elated as Craig drove me to the station, and on the train I felt my muscles melting as the adrenalin stopped. God knows how the others fared after ten days of it.

Well I seem to have reached a natural end here, but I'd be cheating myself if I didn't touch upon the following journeys I made to Compton House.

The others had been coming down to Dorset quite regularly to shoot, but I wasn't needed for about a month. A lot had happened in between and I'd absorbed the experiences of the house - this time I was certain I had tamed any fears I'd developed and I was keen to get back to the house and shoot some more of what by now was becoming a quite a gem of a film. A slow cycle of interest had been drawing in around 'Through the Looking Glass', thanks to combined efforts of those involved and their promotion of this website.

The major change to the feel of this shoot was the appearance of Roz who plays THE LIFE MODEL. Having another person around was interesting to the dynamic and again, Craig had cast perfectly, and once more, to type. The scene we shot together that afternoon was very real and from all accounts her scenes over the next couple of days with Paul were pretty powerful.

Having convinced myself that all was fine between me and the house this time around, I strode confidently away upstairs after dinner. "I'll just grab a jumper" I mentioned on my way out. But night had fallen. I got halfway up the stairs, felt the blunted breeze of the unknown and doubled back on myself. Paul cast me a strange look and I chuckled "Erm…I'll get it later".

So just like that, I'd returned to the state of mind that overtook me the first time around! In a way, it was as it should have been. Because soon after I arrived, we shot the scene where THE FRIEND meets THE LIFE MODEL and he's excited at a new person being around. The following scenes were to be of an altogether more edgy and paranoid nature. So what better to get me in the mood, than the onset of another dose of 'the fear'?

I clearly remember the second night and the scenes we shot - what a rollercoaster. We were shooting up in the attics again and it was where THE FRIEND tries to placate THE ARTIST and involve himself with him, having not seen him for days. Paul and all the crew were on one side of the doorframe as we played out the scene. The length of the corridor, and the rooms that it spawned, was behind me; everyone else in the house was in front of me. Yet when we started to shoot, I could hear all manner of noises coming from one of the rooms behind me. I tried to justify it all as a trapped bird, but there was no way. I was becoming paralysed with fear and this was my close up - the scene was going badly and time was being wasted. But I was petrified - no good for a scene where I'm supposed to be amicable and eager. I got it together as much as I could, but in the middle of the shot there was a very definite thud from a room behind me and in the interests of self-preservation, I dived into the room, onto Paul and behind the camera. Professional? I think not. Instinctual? Absolutely.

But it was late and by this time, Craig was quite justifiably losing patience and energy; my relationship with the house had driven us all a bit too far. I took a deep breath and, in anger more than anything else, confronted the middle end of the corridor and whatever lay beyond. Nothing. So I gave myself a telling off, focussed back on the job in hand and finally got the scene done.

I think it was Chris's idea that we take advantage of my heightened state and immediately go on to shoot the scene where THE FRIEND breaks down, having spied upon THE LIFE MODEL and THE ARTIST together. In truth I found it very hard to do this scene. Neither Craig, nor myself were too clear exactly how THE FRIEND should show his feelings here. We tried different angles: anger, violence, weeping. But I was dry, the tears weren't coming. Of course showing true emotion isn't about how many tears you can churn out - it's about believing and finding the truth of it within yourself. Regardless of what you draw upon to stimulate the emotion - it must be truthful. But that night, I couldn't do it. I was too aware of the crew around me. I knew I was contriving anything I tried to feel - whether I thought of what THE FRIEND was going through, or whether I dredged up disturbing thoughts from my own mind. We tried leaving me in the room on my own with the camera to have ten minutes letting myself go. But, even though slightly more truthful, it wasn't right.

So we left it for the night. Now, I still find this kind of thing very exposing and, combined with my state of mind, I was desperate for some kind of reassurance. I wanted to know that I hadn't let Craig down. I already felt that I'd let myself down - it was my job, after all, to portray an emotion. It was then that the tears came and I got a lot of stuff out of my system. Craig was patient with me, but I learnt a lot from that night. Most importantly to not give a damn about any one else when doing a demanding scene (within reason of course, I'm not suggesting that an actor should be an arrogant fool, but nothing should detract from your ability to do what you know you can do) as that is, after all, the reason you are there. An actor shouldn't need an ego massage to perform - I never have before, and under those exceptional circumstances I saw how easy it is to fall into. I shan't again. If you're good, then acknowledge your own skill. Don't cop out and pity yourself.

The next day, both Craig and I had a clearer idea of how THE FRIEND should show his emotion. Do very little. Think the thoughts and let the audience do the work. They'll have just seen him listening in at the door where THE ARTIST is painting THE LIFE MODEL. The audience will already have a certain amount of sympathy and more importantly, empathy with THE FRIEND. So when the shot cuts to one of me slumped on the bed looking into the mid-foreground with a thousand-yard-stare, the emotion will be evident within their own perception. All I need to do is think genuine thoughts and lead the audience to their own conclusions on how they feel.

With that scene out of the way, Craig spent the rest of the day shooting with Roz and Paul, in fact there was less for me to do this time around and I took advantage of the Dorset countryside. The house is set in a beautiful locale and it was only a few miles before I had found a high point of land on the other side of Nether Compton and settled down to a stunning view over Dorset and into Somerset - a distant Glastonbury Tor pointing the way to a horizon which must have been South Wales. The space was a blessed relief and I had time to reflect on what the hell I was doing in a 1,000 year old haunted house in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah - making a film, that's right.

Well, this diarised summary has turned into thesis, so I'll round things up.

The final leg of shooting, another month later, was the most well balanced I feel. Even though the weeks on end spent down there by Craig, Chris, Paul and Manni were beginning to take their toll, the end was in sight. Paul and Craig had found a real chemistry that gave them both what they wanted and there was no time for any rubbish and personally, I think I began to employ what I'd learnt from the last trip.

The majority of the time would be taken up with the final scenes and we were in for a gruelling shooting schedule. But we were all in the same head space and we worked very well. I spent an entire day being strangled, which was surreal. Two friends of Paul came to shoot some 'making of' footage, a friend of Craig's came to get some sound and they shared our commitment for a couple of days and we all shot until first light when the birdsong interfered with the sound too much. Paul and I were on much more familiar terms with each other, any nonsense from the earlier shoots had been left behind and we had a really good few days acting together. Paul is able to summon an emotion very quickly and I learnt from him too - he has a commendable fearlessness.

In actual fact, there were more paranormal occurrences on this final trip than ever before, but I wasn't affected as I had been previously. Sure - at times I would have the familiar blood freezing episodes, but for far shorter periods. Where before I would never have walked up the attic stairs on my own in the daytime, let alone the night; now I was running errands in the early hours of the morning up and down the very same stairs. You scoff? Take it from me, it was an accomplishment! Strange noises would be exciting, rather than terrifying. At one point, again, in the attics and again, while outside a door waiting to shoot a scene, Paul heard a child's voice from down the corridor repeating dialogue I had just spoken. "More..?" it whimpered from one of the rooms. Doors in the kitchen would move in front of me in the absence of a draft. This was becoming the norm by now.

I think I was more adjusted to it, because in the attics on the first night, to induce a state of panic and infer more subtext for part of the final scene we were shooting, I was subjected to my worst fear. Craig demanded that I stand for five minutes in the furthest attic room, on my own, in the pitch black. I refused - no matter how much I'd reconciled my differences with the house, that room was too much for me. I agreed though, to stand at the end of the corridor, near the room, in the dark on my own. This was bloody terrifying and I stood in there with my head in my hands muttering to myself to be cool, while the others made every effort to freak me out. I felt an all consuming blackness slowly closing in around me from behind, from in front and from the stairwell - I kept my eyes wide open for the full effect until I could bear it no longer and (thankfully) Craig yelled "ACTION!". I fumbled back down the passageway in the dark, on fire with fear and, well, let's just say that it was a truthful performance...

One last fright was very much my own fault. I was in the kitchen on the last night with Paul making dinner while the others set up a shot, and I really wanted to do something to freak them out. In the next room was an old Victorian pram, with huge wheels and a gargantuan black cot. My plan was to take this, hide in a room and push it into the path of an oncoming Chris. Chuckling to myself as I headed to the pram, I jovially asked the house as a mark of respect: "You don't mind if I borrow this do you?". Now, no-one replied as such, but from the room beyond, which led to the cellars, I heard a very definite thud. There was just something about it; it doesn't sound like much of a big deal as I write the experience down, but it was a clear disapproval to my designs on the pram.

All in all, Through the Looking Glass was a fantastic film to work on. I worked with some very focussed and determined film makers and I hope the post production process continues with the same verve as the shooting did. I learnt a lot about how I work, how I interact and how it's easy to become sucked into a destructive state of mind. I think I'm a better actor because of what happened over three months in Compton House and I'm a bit wiser as well. Life's too short to worry about rubbish.

If you've made it to the end of this diary / summary / thing, then thanks for reading it. I hadn't intended it to be this long, but once I started writing it became its own beast.