Once again Spring has sprung, blessing us with her seasonal warmth for another year – just in time before winter – and with it, a young man's thoughts turn to romance, and all the thrills and promises that accompany a new love. Unfortunately, if your NOT a young man – by general consensus that is – then you're probably turning your thoughts towards another lady – Mother Nature ! She is a far more demanding and unrelenting a mistress. With trembling knees and cold sweats – like a first date, really - I'll start to think about having to jet wash the patio, or suffer mild panic attacks with the expectation of having to mount an expedition into the darkest regions, of the lost world of flora & fauna, more commonly known as 'me back garden'.
It was with this oncoming event, that may - I confess – have influenced my decision to “accept” an invitation to a garden féte at the local vicarage. A community tradition, as British as cream teas, Morris dancers and Midsomer Murders. During my walk-a-round, I passed the familiar institutions, the “A Kiss for a Pound” stall – nice to see Jordan in steady employment for a change – and the competition for ' Best Buns.' usually judged by some pillar of the community or local celebrity – before the “rise” of Big Brother/Goggle Box “winners”
Then, suddenly, I came across the “Fortune Teller” tent, and it triggered a flashback to my youth, and my first exposure to occult practices and the powers of prediction.
It was the summer of 1980, and I was a shy, insecure, self-conscious and almost pennyless young man, just another of those “statistical reminders of a world that didn't care.” So, with desperation as my moral compass, I sought answers with the aid of Lady Constance Ophelia Norman, and her amazing crystal ball.
Usually, searchers of the unknown and keepers of truth, go under the title of Madame or Mistress something or other, but my psychic adviser had much more nobler credentials. Which I thought must be a good omen, for surely a member of the aristocracy, would have much” better connections” when downloading the spirit world. Constance Ophelia Norman – an abundance of names for one supposedly medium person - was as the classic soul song said 'once, twice, three times a lady'. She materialized from the other side of the tent in a heady haze of mysticism and Estee Lauder, her large frame dis-placing the air as she approached me. Extending a heavily beringed hand to greet me she gave me a fixed expression accompanied with a choice of astrological readings and a non-refundable price list..
“ Which would you prefer ...the Tarot cards or the Crystal Ball ?” she enquried.
“ Oh, well, I'll take the.....ball, please. I've always been curious to see one of those in action”
“ Ah ! That's a pity. Unfortunately there was a slight accident, earlier, and I sort of... cracked it.” Constance confessed.
“ So, you mean it's broken. Too bad you didn't see that coming” I laughed nervously.
“ Hmmm, or you, for that matter” her ladyship muttered under her breath, “ but I can see just
as well with the cards, or perhaps I could interest you in a bit of palmistry, if you're feeling lucky ?” she smirked.
“ Lucky ? “my faith wavered slightly, “ I'll go with the cards thanks, lets just hope my fate doesn't come with a marked deck !” I tried to be funny – a feat that I still have as yet, to master.
“ One man's luck is another man's destiny” her ladyship countered.
“ That may as well be. But, tell me how about superstition, where does that stand in the cosmic scheme of things ?” I queried.
“ What, you mean like walking under ladders or a crossing black cat ?”
“ Ah, now black cats, I get confused about that one. If a black cat crosses your path, is that a good or bad thing ?”
“ I suppose, that all depends on just what one is doing at the time “
“ Yes, true, very true. I never thought of it that way. “ I conceded.
Her ladyship, displayed an impressive degree of manual dexterity and kept her cards very close to her chest – which was even more impressive given her stature- before splaying them out in a semi-circle on the small table, between us. Channeling the appropriate energy, she began the reading.
“ Now, ask the cards, whatever your heart most wishes them to show” she advised.
“ Gosh ! Where to start ? The future, all my hopes, dreams, desires, there are just so many questions, where shall I begin ? I mean, can they actually tell me everything, like where I'm going to ?”
“ Well, I can tell where you've been !” my guide retorted, with a look of disdain.
I decided to ignore this remark, “ O'k. How about romance. Lets asks the cards...will I ever find love ?”
“ Not in that shirt !” advantage spiritualist – I felt at this point..
“ Look here, I don't care too much for your attitude towards me. Kindly, keep your views to yourself and focus your energies on me future, if you would please !” I exploded.
Her Ladyship, looked down at the table, in silence, and then slowly turned over one of the cards.
“ Oh Lord !” the sayer gasped.
“ What is it ? Have you seen something disturbing ? ” I fearfully enquired.
“ Other than you ? " she answered holding up the card. "It's Mr Moody ! “
“ Mr Moody ? which type of card is that ? “
“ You know...' The Mister Men'... Mr Moody.... the blue one ! “
“ Is that why he's moody, because he's blue ? “
“ NO ! Of course not ! What's his colour got to do with anything ? “ she snapped.
“ You're absolutely right, we shouldn't let our colour dictate who we are -- “ at this point, I began to fear that we were about to lose ourselves in a pack of misunderstandings. So, I tried to re-animate my reading,“ Mr Moody, does this mean that I'm about to be emotionally challenged or something ? “
“You mean you're not already ? No. It means my precious grandson has been playing with MY CARDS again ! Let me see,” the mistress of fate, desperately shuffled through the rest of her mystic deck. “ Yes, it's as I feared, some of my signs are missing. I can't seem to find “ Death” anywhere ! “
“ Don't trouble yourself on my account ! “ I exclaimed.
“ Death doesn't necessary mean the end of existence on this earthly plane. It can merely be heralding in the end of one cycle and the dawning of a new era in your life. Like a change of job or a change of lover. Change...it CAN be a good thing”
“ Surely, that all depends on just WHO's doing the changing !”
“ What are you talking about ?”
“ Well, it's o.k. If I'm the ONE doing all the changing, But, what if it means that my boss is about to give me the sack or that my girlfriend's getting ready to dump me. Then, change ...really sucks !”
“ Oh, I see your point.”
“ Still, It could have been worse, I suppose” I posed philosophically.
“ How so ?”
“ It could have been Mr Blobby ! “ I pointed back towards to the cards.
“ Hmmm, quite.....especially in that shirt “
With this last remark, I sensed it was time to call it a day, and cease my quest for otherworldly guidance, and – after crossing her palm with several hours of minimum pay - headed out into the daylight once more, but no less in the dark about my destiny as before.
My future still questionable, and as much a mystery, as it is today.
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