The story I am about to relate to you just occurred about two, maybe three weeks back where I was working as a traffic controller out at the back of frigging beyond near Kyogle in Northern NSW. Think they were doing some repairs on the road so I have to 'control' the traffic, which would be bugger all to be honest. The job, like most jobs, can be quite boring. 'Sending traffic,' 'got a single for you,' or 'clear to send' is the only conversation you have with your fellow TC. Anyway, this day was cool and bright, traffic was very minimum, maybe three cars went by. My 'real estate' that day was a stretch of road and a view of a paddock but with no cows or trees but far distance mountain ranges. Behind me was an old farmhouse I spotted earlier on, that looked abandoned or whatever for I saw no cars or tractors or even any moos or chooks, just empty. It was coming on to 10am when my Team Leader came to give me a break for 15 minutes. Well, I was busting for a crap, so I grabbed my spare bog roll, some stuff to clean my paws after doing what I wanted to do and made my way up the hill to the old house, well, actually half ran up that hill.
I did my business and was halfway of pulling my pants on when my two-way radio came to life and a voice came on. It wasn't my TL's voice; it was a young girl's voice. I couldn't make out what she said but it was followed by giggling. Then my TL came on.
'Was that you?' He asked.
'No, it wasn't,' I replied. 'When did I started sounding like a girl?'
'Who was it then?'
'How the f**k am I supposed to know that?' I retorted. He said for me to hurry it up. He didn't sound too good I have to say. Now, why I did the next thing I cannot explain but I decided to have a look inside so I tippy-toed and peered in the window to see what was inside. There I thought I saw a child, maybe a young girl, skipping down the hallway. I wasn't sure but I knew I should head back to the TL. I told him about what just happened, and you know what he did? He just handed me the bat back, and got in the Ute, and left me there. Now I have no idea who once owned that old farmhouse or the history. It was only for one day we were there and then moved on to another job. So, there you go-a traffic controller's ghost story.