Fingers Crossed British Folklore #HazardousToYourSanity
Today, as I was rummaging around folklore, I learned a new word – apotropaic. It means something that averts bad luck, like crossing your fingers. Growing up in a superstitious family, I learned a lot of these. One popular one was to touch your collar whenever you saw an ambulance. The rhyme was ‘touch your collar, never swaller [swallow], never catch a fever.’ One day I decided it was ridiculous and stopped grabbing frantically at my neckline whenever I saw an ambulance. The next week I got hit on the head with a golf club and needed 12 stitches. Despite that, I refused to keep touching my collar but my uncle stopped trying to teach me golf.
There are a lot of these superstitions
around. For example, if you spill salt then you’re supposed to throw a pinch
over your shoulder – your left shoulder, mind! – to ward against the devil who
would be at your left side. Salt was important in preserving life so waste was
awful and you may as well use it to protect yourself.
I talked about Witch Balls in another blog
post here, and they are also apotropaic, keeping away the evil eye and
malevolent intentions. Horseshoes are apotropaic, keeping the Fair Folk away,
especially if they are nailed in place with the points up to stop the luck
pouring out. Looking back to the times before antibiotics, sanitation, decent
food and widespread understanding of basic science, it must have felt like
living under siege. Fevers, blight, storms and all the many trials of living in
a primitive society were feared and attributed to curses or bad luck. Anything
that kept the bad luck at bay must have been a huge comfort.
There are a lot of these little rituals
around. For example, after being strongly encouraged by my superstitious (and
utterly lovely) grandmother, I never feel comfortable putting my left shoe on
first. I can’t stir cake mix the ‘wrong’ way. I break all egg shells so that
the witches can’t go to sea in them (which seems somewhat implausible and I
should really crush them up and use them against slugs instead). And if I make
tea, I never, ever stir the pot. I have also been known to touch wood for luck.
There are vast amounts of folklore surrounding
trees and woods, of course. One of the best known shields against ill wishing
and witches is rowan wood, a belief that is not confined to the British Isles. It’s
a powerful protection against fairies and witches, especially if you can tie it
into a five pointed star with red thread. There are all sorts of rules about
gathering the wood, depending on area, but it seems to be the psychic
equivalent of Kevlar.
As a writer, my mind goes to all sorts of
places. I enjoy superstitions, but I don’t really believe in them. But
what if they were real? What if we found ourselves under siege from the Fair
Folk or vampires or fictionally evil witches? Rowan would be in high demand. I imagine
that there would be plantations of the stuff. It grows pretty well on poor soil
and uplands so it would be a real money spinner in some of the wilder parts of
the country. Would there be fakes? Would there be a black market in rowan tree
seedlings? There have to be stories there.
Let’s take it down another path. What if
someone in our world, or a world that is perceived as non-magical, were making what
they thought were fake protections but which actually worked? Would there be a
nervous Wiccan standing outside their shop as it opened looking desperate? Would
a crack team of paranormal allies be sent in to neutralise the supply of these
dangerous devices? Would they start wondering why their house was the only one
in the street which wasn’t suffering from mildew, dry rot and subsidence? After
all, an unscrupulous property developer rumoured to dabble in magic couldn’t possibly
be a cause, could they? Should they put their prices up?
For writers who enjoy writing about the
paranormal, sometimes it’s incredibly inspiring to look at the eBay metaphysical
section with the mindset of a writer. After all, I had a quick glimpse today
and saw that you could buy a ‘ready to make’ rowan wand for £3.50 plus post and
packing – all you had to do was sand it and wax it. On one hand you have the
opportunity to make a wand deeply personal and attuned to you as you meditate
and prepare it under the conditions that are important to you. On the other hand,
someone just sold you a twig. There are so many stories just there if you sit
back and think about them.
I’d love to hear if you have any superstitions to share and your opinion on their influence. Every honest comment is a hug.
