A Chink in the Armour of Spirituality

I am not a spiritual person (well maybe I am). That is, I don't believe in ghosts, horoscopes or an interventionist God. In fact I don't believe in God at all unless it's not at all what we think it is but when my kid tells me he spent all last night playing spooks on a Ouija board in a tin shed with some ghoul called Melissa and a weird gusty wind, for some reason it sends shivers down the spine.


He is visibly shaken. A little disturbed but excited like a kid who's just disembarked from the Demon - one of those rides that pulls you slowly backwards to dizzying heights and releases you round a series of loops so fast that you're heart pumps irregularly and the adrenalin hits your ear lobes. "Great" says ClareBear "bring it next week to the bonfire". "Mkay" says DrumerBoy, "We can use it late at night, hey, there's lots of dead people in this street!". Wow, I know truth comes from the mouths of babes but it's a bit hard to take from a 20 year old, three of them come from our place! So now we're trying to work out if we know anyone with the initials VB! Victoria Bitter comes to mind but that's a beer.

So I am now a little concerned, probably due to my propensity for watching low grade horror. What if I was wrong . . .what if they walk among us like in Sixth Sense or what if it's a portal allowing something demonic through . . . . I think I have plenty of things messing with my head without encouraging the supernatural. And that wind gusting around the shed? The flickering light? The prickly feeling on the back of my neck? The dog that won't come in? What if a jin jumps out and grants me three wishes and I get it wrong and end up with nothing but a refillable Tim Tam packet and monopoly money. Ah bunkum. It's all in my imagination.

I'm not sure I want my table salt used as a protective wica ring around a table of weija wankers! But I'll probably put a little sprinkle of it across my door jamb - just in case!