A Groping and Random Fashion: Ghosts in the Harford Hills

Easter Sunday morning skulking in the woods, and I came across the remains of a haphazard campsite / drug den. A thin plastic sheet erected from a few branches, blowing in the wind, put me in mind of a certain M R James bedsheet ghost: "... at once the spectator realised, with some horror and some relief, that it must be blind, for it seemed to feel about it with its muffled arms in a groping and random fashion..."