“There are spirits in our home, we hear them,” shares 79-year-old Derek Shilling, reputedly the last remaining live-in sexton in Britain. For over 51 years, he has made a two-bedroom, single-story residence at the Haslar Royal Naval Cemetery in Gosport, Hampshire, his home. Alongside these spectral companions, he lives with his wife, Monica, with a garden view that overlooks the graves he has tended over his lifetime.

For Shilling, cohabitating with the paranormal is not unsettling. “I’m not afraid. The television occasionally switches on and off, and we often hear sounds like knocking and footsteps. One time, when my son was younger, we heard a child singing, so we checked his room, but he was fast asleep,” he recounts.

Items frequently seem to vanish as well. “Scissors, books, and keys have a way of disappearing. Once, I exclaimed, ‘I need those keys back now, so when I return, they must be in their place,’ and they were waiting for me upon my return.

Shilling laughs as he says, “I’ve never considered it spooky. It’s not the deceased that you need to worry about—it’s the living.”

The couple’s residence, Fiddler’s Green, was constructed in 1859, just a year before the first grave was dug. Its name is inspired by a song that Shilling often sings, depicting an afterlife for sailors where a fiddle is always playing.

While the home has been a joyful one, it also came with its challenges; for the first three decades, central heating was nonexistent. “We simply adapted by using the open fire,” Shilling explains.

“We’ve shared many wonderful moments here—parties, Christmas gatherings, and all sorts. The garden has hosted chickens, rabbits, dogs, cats, and even a goat. One morning, I thought I was facing the Devil himself when I woke up to two glowing green eyes peering at me with a terrible breath wafting over my face,” he shares.

The couple’s son, Robin, now 53, also grew up in this extraordinary environment. He enjoyed constructing and playing in forts beside the war graves. “He loved telling his friends that he lived in a cemetery—we still see many of them today who call me ‘Bob’ because of my surname,” he chuckles.

Living amid nature is a significant benefit of residing within the cemetery grounds, surrounded by abundant trees and wildlife in the 17.5-acre area that overlooks Haslar Creek.

Monica, 73, is deeply engaged in the cemetery’s community, giving heritage tours and speaking to visitors. The cemetery serves as a place not only of remembrance but also connection.

The residence is linked to Shilling’s responsibilities and was recently sold to the Ministry of Defence. “We considered buying it, but it was beyond our means, and it sold with us as tenants,” he notes.

While the rent has incremented from its initial peppercorn rate, Shilling regards it as fair. “I cherish living here; I have no regrets. Yes, the house is somewhat dilapidated and requires repairs, but we are undeterred,” he adds.

Fiddler’s Green is a bright and welcoming space. An avid reader, Shilling has books everywhere, particularly enjoying Russian literature.

Outside the front door is a book exchange stand that the couple established for visitors to swap books. After Robin moved out, they transformed the second bedroom into an office, maintaining a functional kitchen and a snug living room. Shilling insists, “I cannot abide empty walls,” as pictures adorn every room.

An open cabinet showcases local finds, including shells, ceramic thimbles, and coins, some discovered in the cemetery while others were retrieved from the beach.

The couple enjoys their life in the cemetery so much that they seldom wish to leave.

“Neither of us drives. We occasionally take the bus, which stops right at the gates,” says Shilling. With no commute required, they find walking is all they need. Living on-site can be demanding, turning into a round-the-clock commitment.

“One night, there was a knock at the door around 9 PM. A young man appeared wearing a suede jacket with tassels and a Davy Crockett hat. Bent under the weight of a hefty slab of granite he carried, he told us he had promised his grandmother that on the first anniversary of her passing, he would deliver the stone to her grave. He had hitchhiked all the way from London for this purpose, so we took our lanterns and assisted him in locating her resting place,” he recalls.

The graveyard, while a final resting site, brims with stories. A line of Wrens lies buried together in the Second World War section, victims of anti-aircraft fire while gathered in a dining area in Lee-on-the-Solent in 1940. One Wren, Stephanie Maclean (née Songhurst), had swapped her shift that fateful day and survived the tragedy, living with guilt until her passing in 2009. Shilling made sure her final wish to be interred with her fallen comrades was fulfilled.

Shilling’s desire is simple: to spend his remaining years in the cemetery that has defined his life, work, and cherished home.