I ain't afraid of no ghost

Ooh, spooky!

I finally got around to watching Susan Hill's Ghost Story last night, saved from Christmas. This was based on her story The Small Hand. It was an adequate way to spend an evening - not a patch on The Woman in Black - and it was creepy enough to make me jump a couple of times, but I wasn't entirely engaged with the storyline. Still, it was better than watching The Masked Singer. Whoever thought that was a good idea for a show?

Perhaps I'm not the ideal audience member for this type of drama, though, because I don't believe that ghosts exist. If they do, why don't those who claim to be able to see them come across them everywhere? Why aren't they  tripping over them in Sainsbury's? I do, though, think that buildings can store energy, because some places feel welcoming and others don't. I also believe in the power of suggestion, which is why since watching Vera last week I've been craving chip-shop chips and mushy peas.

However, consider this. I had mislaid my much-loved chakra pendant. I was convinced it was in the house, because I'm very careful with it, but it wasn't in its own box or 'misfiled' with any other necklace. I'd turned the bedroom upside-down searching for it, even looking under the bed, but no joy. Eventually, I resorted to the practice recommended by one of my witch friends; I asked the house where it had hidden it. (I've used this technique before; read more here.)

This morning, I woke up and thought I'd just have one more look in the pendant's box - and there it was. I have no explanation for this, other than that I must be even more short-sighted than I thought I was. I mean, what else could it be?