The Shared Diary of a Novice Paranormal Investigator, aged 52 and Three Quar

When you believe in things you don’t understand, then you suffer.

(Stevie Wonder)

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamed of in your philosophy.

(Shakespeare)

Ri fol ri fol tol de riddle dee.
(Traditional)

Tuesday

Nobody is ever too old or too daft to learn something new.

I am going to learn how to be a paranormal investigator.  I could have chosen an art class, I could have gone in for Oriental cookery, I could have joined a book club, or taken up boxing.  In fact, I could have been a contender.  I’ve got the legs for shorts.  None of those available activities appeal.  I want to hear ghost stories, and I want to go to haunted places with other people who like ghost stories.  I want to ferret out secret knowledge, arcane mysteries…I might wear a long black coat.  There is Stuff to find out about.  I am not yet sure exactly what Stuff is, but I will know it when I find it.  There are adventures to be had, and I am the woman to have them.

I have not actively sought out anything other worldly since about 40 years ago, when we all had a craze for secretly holding forbidden séances in our bedrooms.  We had a pack of cards with letters on.  It was part of a very dull educational game, so subverting it to the Dark Side added a delicious frisson.  We would place the cards in a circle on whatever surface we could clear of juvenile debris, then sit solemnly asking if anyone was there.  Even then, I think I knew one of the other children was pushing that glass.  Either that or spirits are poor spellers.  We also played an odd game called ‘levitation’ in the girls’ toilets at school.  One of us lay down on the tiles while the rest chanted ‘she looks pale, she looks ill, she looks dead’.  At the end of the game, the victim was supposed to float to the ceiling.  Everyone knew somebody who knew somebody who had seen it work.  Happy days.

So that is my previous experience of poking about in the paranormal.  It does not amount to much.  I have felt, sometimes, though, that the paranormal has poked me.  Poked quite hard, on a couple of occasions.  I have also soaked up dozens of wonderful stories from all sources; many of them clearly nonsense, but no less wonderful for it.  I am filled up with nonsense, curiosity and hope, engine running and raring to go, Stuff detector primed.

Starting a hobby as a paranormal investigator is not simple.  I could not find an evening class.  There were no adverts in the library (‘Thinking of exploring the unknown? Psi study group meets every third Tuesday.  Tea and shortbread.  Bring your own Ouija board’).  Also, most people I know, including my nearest and dearest, hoot with derision at the slightest hint of illogical Stuff.  Friends and family just do not want to join in.  It looks like I will be flying solo for this venture.  The good news is, I have recently bought a PC of my very own.  I no longer have to queue up for a turn on the internet, or bribe teenagers to let me catch up with my paperwork for half an hour.  It has got a password, it is all private and it is all mine.  I have got a PC of my own and an independent income.  I can do anything I like, and I like to Google.  There are whole communities out there, I am sure, waiting to welcome newcomers and share Stuff.  A quick search is all it will take.

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