A few interesting things have happened over the years.
My father and I both seem to be magnets for the strange. Both of us will often inexplicably have drops of water fall on us inside the house. Just sitting around, minding our own business and suddenly... Dribble.
I grew up in a rather old Victorian house. I remember being 4 or so, up at the crack of dawn, and seeing a grey lady walk up the stairs. Every morning. It never really occurred to me that it was strange.
We moved when I was 9. And I developed an absolute utter irrational fear of the basement. To this day, when I visit, there needs to be someone there with me.
The incident that I'll never forget happened when I was 11. I was up in my room doing homework when my brother's radio-controlled car zipped by. And kept zipping by. I was annoyed, and stomped into his room to read him the riot act. Lo and behold, his controller was on the bed, batteries out. The car zipped over and bashed my foot, so I scooped it up and took it downstairs to show my dad. Brother was with him, getting new batteries. I held up the car to show Dad, and as I did it powered on and kind of *jumped* out of my hands. Simultaneously, the lights all went out, and all of the radios and TVs turned on. My brother and I took turns camping out in each other's rooms for a week.
Interestingly enough, this stuff never happens when Mum is around.