This Black Magic Just Needs A Little Refining.

Hi All

I thought I had it sussed this week. I thought I had found an inroad to wealth. And this is how and why.

I received a letter from my bank kindly informing me that they were dropping the interest rate on my ISA to .25% from July. Effing .25%. That’s a quarter of a percent. A frigging quarter of a percent! How kind.  Anyway, it suited me to pop into the bank to pay in an enormous cheque of £25.00 from the Premium Bonds so I thought I’d sort out the ISA at the same time.

The bank was just opening as I got there and so I was first to the ‘Customer Services’ desk. I pounced on the assistant, explaining that I wanted to close the account because it was crap and open another. She said I couldn’t do that. I opened my mouth, preparatory to blasting her out and telling her exactly where she could stick the Black Horse, when she said, ‘But I’ll put it up to .75%.’

I blinked – and closed my mouth. ‘Can you do that?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Just like that?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘So … if I slipped you some money you could put it up to 10%?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said.


‘Are you trying to bribe me,’ she said.

‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘Is it working?’

‘No’ she said.

And that was that. We had a jolly good laugh about it and I took my leave. I’ve been with this bank for longer than my memory allows me to remember, but mainly because I like horses. Ditch the horse logo and I’m outta there! Seriously, they are good. I give them silly shit from time to time but they simple shovel it into the general pile of silly shit that they receive daily, and we all move on. Better the devil you know.

Talking of which … devils, and things of the supernatural ilk, I think I need to brush-up on my channelling.

I have a voodoo doll. Not a ‘real’ voodoo doll. Not one that resembles anyone living or known to me, just a little voodoo doll that I found somewhere, as you do. He/she was found recently in the back of the ‘icing’ drawer. This is the drawer where all things to do with er …icing are kept. I decided, one day, to have a major clear out of the kitchen drawers and cupboards and came across the voodoo thing.

As a joke I hung it on a hook on the ‘kitchen implements’ rail and when Richard came home I said, ‘Look what I’ve found in the drawer.’

He took a step backward and blinked a bit. ‘Oh God, who’s for it now? Not me I hope?’

Now, I’ll let you into a secret. Not long ago someone really shit on me and so, as a joke (possibly), I said, ‘Horace!’ (The person who had done the poohing – name changed, obviously).  I’d just taken a freezer bag-tie off a bag and again, as a joke, I twisted it around the voodoo doll’s neck and rolled my eyes, whilst thinking of this Horace person. Within 6 hours, and whilst eBaying, Richard squeaked, ‘I’ve got a really sore throat. It’s just come on, just like that.’

I buried my head in True Blood. The series not the real stuff, I’m not quite that manic, and pretended not to hear.

Last Saturday, as my son and grandchildren left, I grabbed the voodoo doll from the hook and was just going to show it to Matt, when she fell from my fingers and landed in the electric toaster.

An hour later, as Richard and I sat eating our lunch, a dreadful noise like an elephant passing wind came from the hall where the electricity box is situated …and all the electrics blew.

Obviously I exited the house and scurried into the garden not wishing to be electrocuted, whilst Richard, following orders, set about trotting off down the road to where he said he could see neighbours standing on the pavement with mobiles strapped to their ears. I did a bit of deadheading of the petunias while I waited and then …the elephant wind-passing noise again. I moved further up the garden.

Richard said, on his return, that the electricity guy had shaken his head, stared at the blackened out junction box thingy and said, ‘Shit. This doesn’t look good.’

I was pretty sodding annoyed because Morrison’s had recently had salmon at half price and I’d done my hunter-gatherer thing and filled the bloody freezer with the stuff.

The electric came back on after 3 hours. Pretty good by all accounts. And no soggy salmon.

Richard said if I’m going to practice the art of voodoo I should refine my channelling.

If I was Richard I wouldn’t be so cocky about everything because I have the doll, I have skewers and I can soon find a few implements of torture.

Thinking about it …maybe the voodoo doll should have accompanied me to the bank and my ISA would now be earning 50% interest and not .75%? Might not be too late…

Take care my lovelies x


6 thoughts on “This Black Magic Just Needs A Little Refining.

  1. My sort of blog Gail, very entertaining. Maybe you should channel the voodoo doll jumping about having just won the lottery and fixed Richard’s old cars. That’s when it comes home after having shopped for your latest favourite box set.


  2. That’s a chilling one Gail. Reminds me of a man on TV who claimed to have a black magic doll whose previous owner died, and it brought him bad luck. I think he chucked it into the sea (best place for it)!


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