Bitch on the Blog

February 13, 2014


Filed under: Atmosphere — bitchontheblog @ 02:38

Other than the things I dislike there are lots of things I do like about myself:

To name one: I am not superstitious. I will sit out any Friday, 13th, at its leisure. No hotel can fool me. They may put me into Number 14 but I know that, in reality, it’s Number 13.

Obviously I’ll knock wood for good luck. Who wouldn’t? Particularly the moment you spout some utter nonsense. In the hope no one will remember.

My father startled me once upon a time. He is a rational man. And then, accidentally, he spilled some sugar onto the table cloth. No idea where my mother was at the time. Probably in hospital giving birth to my youngest sister. Judging by my father’s look he was horrified (not by my youngest sister, the sugar) and asked me to clean it up. Thus I met superstition. Many years later I smashed a mirror. How do they say: “Seven years of misfortune”. I wouldn’t know. I have actually been quite happy since.

So, Sweethearts, what does give you the colly wobbles? Brings out the child in you frightened in the dark? Makes you throw a penny (or is it salt) over your shoulder? And, of course, makes you touch wood for good luck?



  1. Will you believe me? Nothing.

    Comment by Rummuser — February 13, 2014 @ 06:52 | Reply

    • I believe you. And wouldn’t have expected anything less of you.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 15, 2014 @ 14:59 | Reply

  2. Habits based upon superstitions I have a plenty…. always greet magpies, especially lone ones. “Goood day Captain. How is your wife?”. spill salt and throw some of the spilled condiment over the left shoulder in tot he devil’s eye, avoid walking under ladders in case the(window cleaner drops his (usually a he) bucket on my bald patch)….. never cross knives. Talking of knives, never give one a s a gift unless you receive a silver (coloured) coin in exchange else the ties of friendship be cut.
    Whence these habits? Childhood in the English countrysides…. yes I did mean to say countrysides…
    Certainly breaking a mirror does bring bad luck…… in my case it started with a black eye from my mother and that was the day before my return to prison, sorry I mean boarding school. And yes Hut 29 was haunted…

    Comment by magpie11 — February 13, 2014 @ 16:36 | Reply

    • Have to keep it short this minute, Magpie: Yes, boarding schools do have a lot to answer for. No let’s rephrase: Parents who put their children into boarding school have a lot to answer for.

      Over my dead body. Father of son never mentioned it again.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 15, 2014 @ 14:58 | Reply

      • Well, my boarding school was a local authority institution….. and they didn’t have to pay a penny. Very mixed feelings about it… many of us ex inmates say that the one thing we gaine was the ability to talk to anyone from any walk of life…… just let me get at Charles and his parents.

        Comment by magpie11 — February 16, 2014 @ 11:44 | Reply

        • Being boarded has nothing to do with money, Magpie. FOS (father of son) was boarded with funding from I don’t know who because his father was in the British Army, stationed all over the world. He went to one of the best (Surrey, naturally). At age eight. Dear dog in heaven. Age Eight. Brilliant.

          There was never any question of the Angel, our son, boarding. If FOS had insisted we’d not have procreated. End of story. However, going back to money: Father of son did invest a great deal of money the last few years of the Angel’s education. Private school. Fine difference: The Angel came HOME every day – being able to offload his woes, and of course delights, to me. Fact is, and it is something I intensely dislike about the English and their forever going on about “child care” (what CARE?) no one takes as much interest and delight in a child than does a parent. So why outsource, for heaven’s sake?


          Comment by bitchontheblog — February 16, 2014 @ 12:03 | Reply

          • Don’t get me going on the subjects of child care and upbringing…

            It’s to do with calss (my theory) Historically theupper class breeds and then hands the responsibility for their children to servants, nannies, governesses and tutors. The left wing have managed to quietly build on the class envy that exists and have persuaded the middle and lower classes to do like wise… lower? You know what I mean…. breed and hand your child to others to look after during the day, then it’s Nursery and then of course school. When things go wrong, as they will then of course the teachers are to blame..

            Even the conservative end of the political spectrum have bought into this scenario…

            Met an ex pupil who was being berated by othe mothers and social srvices for staying at home and not putting her children into nursery…

            My first argument about this was back in college days and was with Jack Straw….. it is of course a socialist given. cf kibbutz.

            Comment by magpie11 — February 20, 2014 @ 23:33 | Reply

  3. Well there was that time I was in YMCA summer camp – Camp Crockett in Colorado and my cabin – Western Star – was one of
    the oldest. No glass windows – just big, heavy wooden shutters – one which was broken and my bed was right up against that window, Awoken to strange noises in the middle of th enight – no idea what time. The next AM there were mountain lion tracks outside that window. SInce then unidentifiable sounds when I am in a strange (as in unfamiliar) dark room do an excellent job of creeping me out.

    Comment by Chuck McConvey — February 14, 2014 @ 17:59 | Reply

    • Good point, Chuck. Not least because sound clearly means a lot to you: The one bother when travelling are unfamiliar sounds. Friend or foe? A rat? Or try a Greek ferry. Creaking at its worn out seams mercilessly (yes, the English have no shame buying crap just to ship you across the channel), making you wonder why you booked yourself an overnight cabin since you are just about to drown any minute. And can’t sleep.

      I myself have taken leave of my senses. Under my own roof. I recently heard my son – three in the morning – calling out “MAMA”, I tumbled out of bed, went to his room vaguely panicked only to find he wasn’t at home. Now, that IS creepy. Though better than a prowling mountain lion.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 15, 2014 @ 14:55 | Reply

  4. The hotel I worked at before I was kicked out had rooms numbered 12, 12a, and 14. Even so no-one wanted to stay in 12a. Aren’t people stupid?

    Comment by Keith — February 15, 2014 @ 23:55 | Reply

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