Ouija and the occult
I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it?
I’m 8 years old … and sharing coaches, travelling the UK to spiritual “Greater World” conferences (hosted by a then already elderly man called Harry Edwards)
Alternately, I’m quietly munching packets of Golden Wonder crisps, sucking exotic flavours of Hubbly Bubbly through a straw while my mother and her friends huddle over dimly lit tables where glass tumblers glide to spell words while, at the back of a room, objects float up into the air.
I’m not fussed though, being a young angler familiar with gossamer thin nylon fishing line.
And no. Even at such a young age, I just used to sigh and ponder why adults could be so gullible.
I did enjoy reading Man, Myth and Magic glossy magazines though and, along with the woman’s clear interest in all things esoterical, my mother and I did share intrigue in a certain left-field view of the world.