This transcript was supplied by a good friend of the Leslie Flint Educational Trust, Mr Simon Lovelock.

Transcript from a Leslie Flint direct voice communication:

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THE GEORGE WILMOT SÉANCE
Date: Monday 6th December 1965.
Sitters: George Woods and Betty Greene.
Communicator: George Wilmot.

SUMMARY: First to meet him was old Jenny, not his wife but his horse which came and licked his face - his guide took him to see his old dead body being wheeled away - went to see one ex-wife who was dying, then went to help another ex-wife until she made the transition - the power wanes and he doesn't get to finish his story.
NOTE: The recording starts half way through a sentence.

Wilmot: ... about this business before.
Greene: Have you?
Wilmot: Yeah, about George and his trouble. He tries to do to much, doesn't he?
Greene: Yes.
Wilmot: He ain't no baby, you know. I mean, what are you 70 something, 71 are you George?
Woods: I shall be 72 next birthday: in the Spring.
Wilmot: Well then you're 71; 72 next birthday. Well, considering what you went through last year, huh! I should have thought you'd have been only too glad to take it easy.
Greene: Mmm. Who are you friend?
Wilmot: Eh?
Greene: Who are you?
Wilmot: Oh, sorry. My name is... my name is old Wilmot, George Wilmot.
Greene: George Wilmot?
Wilmot: Yeah. I've been around here several times listening to conversations and I thought perhaps one day I might get a look in, you know. You never know your luck. But that Dr. Marshall fella, he's a real gent, you know, he really is. He knows his onions does that man.
Greene: Oh, of course he does, yes.
Wilmot: He certainly knows his onions alright.
Greene: Mr. Wilmot can you tell us about yourself...
Wilmot: (Interrupting) I was a rag-and-bone merchant.
Greene: Oh, were you?
Wilmot: Yeah.
Greene: And how did you pass over...
Wilmot: (Interrupting)I used to... I used to go around the houses collecting up whatever they'd got, you know, make a little bit on it. Yeah. Ah! I sort of eked out an existence. I suppose you'd call it a living. Occasionally I'd have a good day, and I'd get something really good and worthwhile and get a fiver for it probably, you know. But I never was that lucky as some of them reckon they are. Course, a lot of that's talk, I think. Anyway I'm quite happy to be out of your world. I had enough on it, one way and another. I had a pretty rough time taking it by and large, although in my own way I enjoyed myself. I had a bit of fun at times. Had two wives: neither of them any bloody good. But still, perhaps it was as much me as them, who knows? But I was unlucky, I suppose.  
Greene: Mr. Wilmot, how did you pass over? What happened?
Wilmot: Oh, I caught pneumonia one bad winter, going around you know. Got a bit of a cough and chest trouble started up. And before I knew I was in the local hospital you know. Wasn't there more than about, oh... I suppose about a week. Ah! It was too far gone, you know. I'd always had a bit of a cough and that. Me chest was always a bit of a weak bit, you know. But, oh dear, oh dear, do you know I might make you laugh but it's perfectly true. Mind you I was always fond of people. I always took an interest in people as a matter of fact I think I can say this honestly, that often people would come and ask me proper questions if they were in trouble. I was always glad to help people, very fond of people. But the odd thing was - and in a way I'm not surprised because I was so fond of her - but my old Jenny was the one I first saw when I came here.
Greene: Oh, yes?
Wilmot: Yeah. Now, that's got you guessing, but Jenny wasn't neither of my wives, thank God, it was my horse.
Greene: Oh, really?
Wilmot: Yeah she... old Jenny, she used to pull my cart in earlier years, in my thirties, you know. I was real upset when poor old Jenny collapsed and died, you know.  She was as near to me as any woman could be, in fact more so. I had great affection and regard for old Jenny and she knew everything that I ever said to her, I'm sure she did. She was as cute as they come. She was a real “beaut”. She wasn't much to look at, I suppose, as horses go, of course, but she was a real nice old nag, she was.
And the first thing I remember when I woke up over here was being in a - well, I suppose you'd call it a field. I seemed to be sitting, lying, under a tree and I remember, sort of, waking up. And I could see this horse coming towards me and there was my old Jenny. Cor! She looked younger, of course, and she was... oh, she was so thrilled and so happy, you could sense and feel it. I can't say how, I mean this is something I can't explain. But it was almost as if she was talking to me. It was extraordinary. I couldn't hear any voice and you don't expect to hear a horse speak. But it was somehow mentally, I suppose, now I realize. It must have been as if she was speaking to me and welcoming me and she came and stood beside me and was licking my face. Goodness me, I'll never forget this as long as I live. I was so thrilled and so excited and I was patting her and fussing her. And then it was as if I heard a voice behind me and I turned round, and there was a fine looking chap. I should think he was about six-foot-two, tall, fair-haired, young. And he was such a nice fella.
And he says, "I've come to look after you."
So I says, ''Come to look after me? What are you talking about?" You know, I was sort of so taken aback what with Jenny and the rest of it.
He says, ''Yeah, I'm going to look after you. I've been in charge of you."
I said, ''What do you mean in charge of me? I'm always capable of looking after myself. Always had to, anyway."
He says, ''No, you don't understand. You know you're dead."
Of course, for a moment it struck me like a thunderbolt, you know. And it suddenly came to me. Of course, Jenny had been dead some years and I'd had another little nag after her you see. A nice horse, but never to me like Jenny.
So he says, "You're dead." And I thought, "Well, I don't know what to make of this lark."
Then it seemed as if he was able to show me something. I don't know whether he showed it to me, I suppose he did. But I could see myself lying in a bed, stiff and stark, you know, and it was as if... well, it was as if I was looking at my own body. And yet I wasn't there and yet I was there. And I saw them put this body on a trolley... take it out the bed, put it on a trolley and wheel it away. And I was walking behind this body being wheeled out and then it all disappeared and I was back where I was with this bloke.
And then I found out afterwards that his name was Michael. And so he said, ''My name is Michael."
So I said, "Oh yes?"
So he says, ''Do you realize you're dead?"
So I said, ''Well, I don't know what to think."
He says, ''Well, you've just had that realization, didn't you, that vision, like, of your body, like?" He says, "You know you died in that hospital."
So I said, "Well, I recollect now I was very ill in hospital, but how can I be dead when I'm here and I'm talking to you, and I've got Jenny?" 
He says, ''Well, isn't Jenny, in itself, some evidence to you that you're dead?"
So I said, ''Well, it seems very strange but then again, if I'm in Heaven, if that's it, you don't expect to find horses there. They ain't got no souls, have they?"
So he said, ''Ah, that's what they tell you when you're on Earth, that they ain't got no sort of other life, only just the old material life," as you call it, like, you know.
So he said, "That horse, because of its nearness to you and the love and affection you showered on it, it's given it something which helps it to extend (as he put it) its life span."
I didn't quite get all this lark, you know: "extend its life span" and all the rest of it.
He said, ''But while you have love and affection and regard for that horse, that horse will have an existence. Human beings don't know their responsibility to animals. Ever since I've been here, which is hundreds of years..."
Course, I looked at him when he said that. I thought, "Well, this is a bit much," you know, "looking so young and spruce and nice looking - hundreds of years." I thought... well... anyway I thought, "Well, it don't do to interrupt this gentleman," like, you know. After all I felt a bit lost and I thought I had to mind my qs and ps, you know.
So he says, ''Oh, time is nothing, you see."
So I said, "Evidently, you know. It's nothing, mate," you know.
So he says,"I've been here for hundreds of years, and part of my responsibility and my job (as he put it) is to see and care for animals. I often go down into the pits."
I wondered what the hell he meant when he said pits. I thought he meant hell or something.
So he says, ''No, pits where they have the animals down in the mines. I tend to them and try to help them, but there's not a great deal you can do. A lot of them are very badly treated, you know. Over here we have great plains," that's what he put it, like, "and places where animals congregate and where there is love and affection, and they can be cared for. People have this stupid idea that because they are human beings they're the only ones that have got any right to a future existence, should there be one. Of course, a lot of people on Earth don't believe there is one. Then you get the religious ones who think there must be and there is, but they haven't much of a conception of it either."
Course, he was talking a lot of stuff here, you know, and I was getting very intrigued. And all the time he was talking I was half listening and half thinking about meself. What I was going to do, you know, being dead and all the rest of it. It was as if he was illustrating things and I was trying to take it in. At the same time I couldn't stop thinking about meself and me own worries.
"Anyway,'' he says, "You don't want to sit here, let's walk."
So I says, "Alright." So I thought, "Well, this seems so odd."
Anyway, I walked beside him and we walked through this field into what appeared to be a sort of road through a little gate. It was... honestly, it was just as if you was in the country on Earth, you know. And as I was walking along, the horse followed me.
I thought, "Well, I don't know." It seemed so strange this horse following me and yet I was so fond of it and there was no doubt about it. It was the same horse that I'd had before but anyway I thought, "Well, there's nothing for you to worry too much," you know. I never was really the worrying kind. So I walked beside him and we walked and walked so it seemed to me and everything was so pretty and beautiful. There were flowers growing by the wayside and there was this very attractive sort of road: not very wide, very narrow really. I suppose you could've got a horse and cart along there. That's about all. Been a job for two - one to pass another. Anyway we walked into this country place and we passed little houses and I could see people sometimes standing at the door and sometimes they'd be looking out the window and they all seemed so bright and yet very normal very natural. Sometimes they would wave and sometimes people would call out, and they all seemed to be white people. I didn't see any coloured people. And I thought to meself, "This must be, if it's what he says it is: Heaven and that, it must be a white peoples' Heaven".
I started thinking about coloured people. I don't know why I was thinking about coloured people and I thought, "Well, I don't know, they all seem to be quite normal and natural here, but you don't see any other people, only white people". So I wondered to myself. Of course, I didn't say anything to him, but he must have been able to read my thoughts.
"Ah," he says, "You wonder why it is that these people are all white people. There are coloured people too. All races, all nations. But of course it's natural that people want to live in a community or a condition of life which is best suited to them. I mean they like er... perhaps a person likes a little cottage and they're quite happy to live in that way, and they have that; whereas perhaps a coloured person, depending on his experience of life and so on, wouldn't be happy in what you call a white man's sort of atmosphere. Anyway, you'll find there are people of all nations, all types, 'ere. And they live in a community or condition of life that's best suited to them, in which they'd be most happy. But gradually they change their thoughts, and their outlooks, whether it's white or coloured and they then find communities where they integr ... whatever it is: get together, you know."

So I thought, "I don't know, this bloke seems to know all the answers. He seems to be able even to read my thoughts so I'll have to be careful what I think."

He looked at me as I was thinking this and he smiled and he says, "You don't have to think like that. Just be yourself. I quite understand whatever your thoughts are."

And I thought, "Well, I don't know. He's a nice fella but you'll have to be careful here." But he seemed very humorous which struck me as odd cos I always thought religious people would be very sort of highfalutin and sort of, you know... well, rather stour, you know, like... sort of hard to get on with and rather religious. But anyway he seemed quite normal, quite natural. I felt quite happy with him really.

And anyway we went along and, well, we went through what seemed to be a side turning and then we beared to the right, past a lot of poplar trees on each side of the road: very pretty. Then I thought, "These poplar trees they remind me of something, they remind me of something, I can't think what", you know. And then all of a sudden it came to me! Course, I remember. And I remembered this road. It was exactly the same as a road in France when I was there in the '14-18 war. These lovely big tall trees at the side, there. And I knew without - before I even reached there - that at the far end of this would be a very old house and it would be full of people that I'd known. I don't know why I thought this when, after all, it was all a new experience but if it was going to turn out like I thought it was it was going to be these people that were so nice to me when I was in France, when I was billeted.
Anyway it turned out that it was and there was this mother and daughter there, and the father. But they came and stood at the end of the road, at the edge of the gate, looking over, waving like mad at me.
And I thought to myself, "Well, I don't know". These people, these people I believe they must have been killed, because I'd heard a little later that this place had been absolutely bombed, you know, during the war, and I couldn't get this out of my mind. I thought, well, these people - I'd got a feeling that they were dead anyway. And I thought, "Well, I'm dead and I'm supposed to be in a dead man's world, so these people must be dead".
All this was going on in my mind and then I looked at them hard, you know, and I could see that the husband and the wife looked young. They were the same people but they looked younger. Then my mind went to a picture, two pictures that they used to have over a sideboard. One was of her and one was of him when they were young. Oh, I suppose they would have been then in their twenties and they looked exactly like they looked in them there two portraits that they had. She looked exactly the same; so did he. And the daughter, she looked as young as the mother. The mother, you know, she looked about the same age.
Course this daughter I was very drawn and attached to, and actually if things had gone right, I would - well, given the opportunity I would have proposed to her. Of course I wasn't married then you see. And I always think - of course I know now - but I always used to think when I was on Earth - that's one other reason perhaps why my two marriages didn't work out - I always carried this girl's memory in my heart, you know. I always think what a nice little thing she was and very sweet and kind, and I always felt she was the right one for me although we could hardly speak a word of each other's lingo, I mean, but we seemed to get on. They were always very good to me. But I heard, as I told you, that the whole place round that area had been very badly bombed and, you know, I think - I didn't know for sure, mind you, whether they'd been killed and I realize now, of course, then that they must have been.
Anyway they were chatting away and the funny thing was that for the first time in my life I could understand their lingo. You see, when on Earth, I mean, I couldn't. They spoke just a little bit of English, at least the old boy did and the mother could say a few words but here they were chatting away to me or at least so it seemed to me but I'd understood everything perfectly. And they were holding conversation and I was holding conversation and anyway I got inside this place and there it was exactly the same. The room was the same. The chairs, the sideboard was there, the two pictures was there, the lamp was standing on the side where I always remember it. Oh it was... well, it was fantastic. And there I was. Well, I couldn't get over this.
So this young fella said to me, "Well now I'm going to leave you with your friends but I shall come back in a little while and we'll talk about what we're going to do and what you would like to do. After all it's important that you should do what you want to do. Not for me to say what you must do because, in any case, I can't tell you what you must do."
No-one here evidently ever tells you what you've got to do. They may make suggestions and give you ideas but everyone seems to be so free and easy and be able to do the things they want to do within reason, you see, and anyway I was quite happy, I suppose. Course now I realize that I was taken to these people because... well, he knew that I had this sort of deep regard and affection for the family and the girl and I suppose he knew that I'd be happier with them. I've realized since, of course, that he was right.

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