Low life | 31 January 2013

A superstitious Devon woman who lived and died in the residential home run by my parents, used to reckon that, if her first glimpse of a new moon was through a window or in a mirror, she was in for a month of rotten luck. If she first saw the new moon when she was out of doors, however, she was pleased, because that meant she was in for a month of good luck. If she glimpsed the new moon first over her right shoulder, she said, that would be very lucky indeed. It had happened to her mother once in her lifetime, but never to her.

She’d lived all of her life in an isolated village. If she saw me sit on a table, she’d say, ‘Sit on a table, meet a stranger!’ If I dropped a spoon, she’d say, ‘Dropped spoon — stranger at the door!’ And once, when she saw me scratching my elbow, she exclaimed, ‘Itchy elbow, end up in a stranger’s bed!’ She was a maiden lady so the thought of ending up in a stranger’s bed was to her an extraordinary one.