Who Am I? Part Eleven


You may or may not be surprised to hear that I’m off on my travels again in a couple of days time. Back up to the Scottish Highlands for about a week, so I wanted to write another post before setting off.

One good thing that came from my time living back in London with my mum and then moving back in with her after she moved to Swindon, was that in spite of the difficulties I had with her negativity, it gave us a chance to have some proper chats. It was during these chats that I learned the sordid truth of all the goings on within the family when I was a kid. However, I also gained an understanding of why my dad had been the way he was. Apparently, his mother had been a very beautiful woman who had died when he was only about five years old. He’d idolised his mother, but it wasn’t only her death that had affected him. His father, my Grandad Albert, had married again; ironically to a woman named Elsie, which was my mum’s name. She was a matron in one of the London hospitals and was a very ferocious woman. My dad and her clashed and he also had a very volatile relationship with Albert. I remember that they would fall out and not speak to each other for ages. In fact, when Albert died no one bothered to tell my dad; he found out around three months later during a phone call. It was always an awful experience for me as a kid when we went over there for visits. But finding all this stuff out gave me clarity as to why my dad had been so emotionally barren. It wasn’t that he didn’t love; he simply didn’t know how to express it. I could also see that he had simply lived his life in accordance with the understanding he had at that time, as do all of us. Big respect old boy!

So, back to the late 1980s. I started going to the Spiritualist church on a regular basis and I also had an idea to start my own business. I found the church to be not very welcoming, it was rather cliquey and run mainly by elderly people who appeared to view me with suspicion. I remember one particular incident. It was announced at the weekend that during the coming week there was to be a games night in the church. The idea was that people could have some “fun” in a less formal atmosphere and get to know each other. It sounded good to me so I went along. It turned out to be a bit of a farce; Only around seven people turned up, including me, and with the exception of one woman who was aged somewhere in between me and the older ones, nobody spoke to me. Even if I was interacting with them during the “fun and games”, they just looked at me in ways that suggested they didn’t think I should be there. I didn’t let this put me off and I made enquiries about doing their spiritual healing course. One thing I decided was that I wanted to follow-up on what Mr Dowding had told me about developing my healing gift.

Trainee healers were not allowed to put their hands on patients until deemed ready by the lead healer. So, apart from the written element of the course, I was allowed to sit in during healing sessions but I was only permitted to observe or send out healing thoughts. I was doing well with the written work; I was about one-third of the way through and had gained good marks up to that point. Then an incident occurred that caused me to walk away; and I stayed away for around five years. As I’ve already mentioned there is a lead healer; this is something that is synonymous with Spiritualist churches. I had a private nickname for our particular lead healer, which was “The King of The Healers”.

I mentioned to the president of the church that I’d been doing really well with the written work and had gained good marks. In view of this, I asked if it would be permissible for me to now just hold the patient’s hands as they received healing from one of the trained healers. The president said this would be fine so, feeling rather pleased with myself, I was looking forward to the next healing night. The time came and I thought I’d better mention the holding hands thing to the lead healer instead of just steaming in. When I did so, The King of The Healers had a mini-meltdown because he had not been consulted. In hindsight I was not aware of the protocol and had acted in complete innocence, but nonetheless, the lead healer appeared to have a massive ego; hence my nickname for him, and added to the general bad atmosphere in the church, I decided that I no longer wanted any part of it and voted with my feet. I was still quite a young man at the time and my impression was that as long as I sat in the congregation and kept my mouth shut all was fine. But because I wanted to get involved I was perceived as a threat.

As for my business venture, it was great experience, but sadly, it was doomed from the start. Back in those days there was a thing called “The Enterprise Allowance Scheme”. It was a government-run scheme that encouraged people to start up their own businesses by paying them £40 per week for the first 12 months. However, it was a bit of a Catch 22 situation; well it was for someone like me who was skint! In order to be eligible you needed to have some cash to put into the business. So, the natural thing is to ask the bank for some money… but the bank won’t give you any money unless you have some of your own to put in. Holmsey cunning was needed, so I asked my mum to lend me £2000, which I put into my bank account. I then said to the bank, “look, I’ve got some money”! The bank then gave me a business account with a £2000 overdraft facility. I was then able to approach the Enterprise Allowance Scheme and qualify for the £40 a week. Soon as everything was in place I paid my mum her £2000 back. I had the idea of selling second-hand vinyl from a market stall. I soon learned that you couldn’t earn a living by only offering the public stuff that you yourself liked.

The murky world of market trading was another real learning curve for me. It was soul-destroying at times. Long hours and quite often not even taking enough money to cover my daily outgoings. When I realised I couldn’t make a living by selling second-hand rock albums, I started selling cassettes and pop merchandise; I also started selling the type of music that people actually wanted! I have to chuckle when I look back on this period. Some of the markets where I traded attracted elderly people who wanted to spend 50p on anything other than what I was selling, and young single mums looking to buy cheap disposable nappies. I would be there selling Guns n Roses and Sex Pistols T-shirts and albums by popular “easy listening” bands such as Black Sabbath and The Who! Eventually I did come around to the idea of changing my sales and marketing strategy!

It was a real cut-throat world and I encountered a few dodgy characters along the way. Two things that I found though, and this seems to have been the case everywhere and with everything I’ve ever been involved in. Firstly, I didn’t fit in. I felt very uncomfortable around some of the people I had to associate with; and at this point in my life I still didn’t understand why I always felt different. Secondly, through all the darkness and murkiness of this period (I was well and truly on the downward slope by this time), there was someone who always looked out for me. In this instance it was Bill, who was the market Toby* for the council-run market in Marlborough where I plied my trade on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Bill had a family fruit and veg business and was one of two fruit and veg traders at Marlborough. He knew I was struggling, but I think he admired what I was trying to achieve as a one-man-band. I didn’t have a pitch, but he always made sure I got on. He had a word with the mobile butcher who let me pitch up at the side of his butcher’s wagon. Also, if any of the traders were sick or on holiday Bill would let me have their pitch. All I had to do in return was let him and the butcher have a free cassette from time to time. He never took any money off me because the pitch fees were already paid. I salute you Billy boy!

What little profit I made went towards keeping my old Citroen on the road by way of petrol and maintenance costs. I’d already started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to work and that I should look for a career change, when I did something incredibly stupid.

Carol’s sister and John were having a christening do in the church hall just up from Carol’s house. It was around ten months since we split and I’d bumped into John and her sisters on various occasions and had been invited. I was apprehensive but decided to go along. Carol was there and I did not go into the main hall where she was, choosing instead to hang out at the bar and chat to her sisters, her kids and John as they flitted in and out. Eventually, Carol came out to speak to me. We got on surprisingly well. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to get too involved and before I knew it, we were not only seeing each other again, but I’d moved back in with her. What followed wasn’t very nice, but I’m going to finish this post by sharing what happened when I had my first experience of the sustained presence of spirit around me.

I think this was the first time or one of the first times I took Carol to London. We were just outside the back door one evening in Gladstone Avenue and I felt the presence of spirit around me. I don’t know if I’d felt it before but this was unmistakable. I told Carol what I could feel and she said she felt it too. She was used to this kind of thing and told me it was my dad. The presence seemed to stay for quite a long time and it got stronger and stronger. In the end it got so strong I panicked and it stopped immediately. Carol said he’d deliberately increased the presence gradually as he had not wanted to frighten me. As soon as I started to panic he drew back.

*For the uninitiated, the word “Toby”, is market trader speak for the person who is in charge of the market. The Toby collects the pitch fees and controls who’s on and who isn’t.

 

Guest Writer


This is the first time I have had a non-author as a guest writer on my blog.  However, my latest guest nonetheless has a story to tell.  She requested that I use a pseudonym as she wished to remain anonymous, therefore I will now hand you over to Mary.

A Visit From Rob

In the summer of 2007 my husband passed to Spirit.  We had no children and I have no living relative so his loss really did mean the end of the life I had known. Overnight my companion, best friend, playmate and all the memories of 30 years disappeared and when it became apparent I could not expect any support  from ‘close friends’, I plunged headfirst into a loneliness and despair from which I had little expectation of ever emerging again.  My isolation was absolute.  I received no communication from the outside world for  months on end and as this state of misery  persisted found I had little will or energy to try and change things.  No one ever warns  just how exhausting the process of deep grieving is.

Evenings seemed to get lonelier as time passed. To shorten them I went to bed earlier and earlier.  But I could not sleep and the radio on low volume provided a level of companionable sound in an otherwise silent house. Whilst listening to a radio play one evening I became aware of the weight of a comforting arm around my shoulder and I lay for some while, completely still, scarcely breathing, lest the spell be broken.  But the spell did break and the weight seemed to dissolve and, for once, I slept deeply.

For many days I considered what had happened.  My heart said it was Rob but then I dismissed that idea as a fancy.    I was unsettled. Eventually I got the idea to seek out a reputable medium.  That interview was so comforting and uplifting that I started to attend my local Spiritualist Church regularly in the hope I would get more contact from my husband.

I waited two full years but no contact came. During that time I had got to know a few people at my local church and one evening one of them told me that I was waking on the stroke of 3 a.m each morning and that when this next happened I should rest on my elbows and make quite sure I was fully awake. I would then feel pressure on my leg. He could not say more except, that according to his Spirit Guide, I could expect something special.

On 28 October 2009 I awoke at 3am.  Mindful of what had been said I sat up in bed. I was definitely awake. The room was dark and chilly. I pulled the duvet up around my bare shoulders  and looked again at the time.  Four minutes had passed. I lay still for a bit longer and then felt a gentle pressure on the outside of my right calf.  I was stunned. Not knowing how to react I rolled over towards the centre of the bed and slid my hand under  the other pillows and there to my amazement Rob appeared to be laying beside me but on top of the bedclothes.  He was fully dressed in a sports jacket white shirt and golf club tie, navy trousers and highly polished shoes. He had his eyes shut and he looked beautiful. He had his usual outdoorsy tan but his skin had another quality, which I have no real means to describe to you. His skin had a silky, pearly quality as if subtly lit  from within. The effect of this light reminded me of white under ultra violet light but a gentler effect and not so stark or glaring. All this was clearly visible during the small hours in an unlit room in late October.

We talked but I do not remember seeing his lips move or hearing any sound.  It went thus:-

Me:   What are you doing here ?  Why have you come ?

Rob:  I was sent.

Me:    I am OK.  You don’t need to worry about me.

Rob:   I watched that film Ghost with you the other evening,

Me:   Yes Patrick Swayze died of the same thing as you and they are showing his films.

Rob:  I watched that other one with you too….Dirty something or other. Didn’t like it

Whilst we had this very mundane conversation Rob remained flat on his back whilst I was leaning on my elbow looking at him.  Over his abdomen I could see Bessie, my dog, asleep in her basket. She had not stirred.  I could see the time on the clock radio at the other side of the bed from mine. It was 3.20am. I could see the rest of the room clearly and in detail as if it was the middle of the afternoon.

Then Rob got up from the bed and walked around it towards the window. I made a note of his height against the cupboard door. He seemed to be looking at the curtain pole as if there was something wrong with it. The roller binds were pulled down. They are not blackout blinds  and I observed that it appeared to be as daylight outside which enabled me to see his face and for the first time I saw him with his eyes open as he turned towards me and gave me a very loving smile which was full of support and understanding. Whilst I watched him he simply melted away.

I was now laying on my back having watched Rob walk around the bedroom until he departed.  My clock said just 3.40am. The room had gone back to dark.  I was aware of how smooth my hands felt. Rubbing them together I noticed they made no noise. They felt as if I had used the very best of hand creams.  Then I realised my fingers and parts of my palms had the same light I had seen on Rob’s skin.  It was all very overwhelming emotionally and I chose to sleep and think about it all in the morning.

On waking everything that I remembered seemed like a dream. It was as if the act of sleeping had altered my belief that all this had actually happened. Had I dreamt it all ?  My first instinct was to get up and see what was wrong with the curtain pole and yes there was a mark just where Rob seemed to be looking.  Then I arranged pillows to check the sight line to the dog and the other radio alarm. Yes that all checked out too. And his height against the cupboard door measured correctly.  I needed a long walk to clear my mind.

On return I decided to speak to the medium who had for warned me.  And yes he already knew from his Spirit Guide I had received my night visitor.   I will add that neither before nor since this occurrence have I ever dreamt of Rob.  I am told this is because I would choose to stay with him and not return to live out the rest of my life.   What passes between us during my sleeping hours will never be remembered by me. Over two years after his visit and nearly five years after his passing I have never yet dreamt of him.

Mary