Just in front of me, visiting Spellbound at the Ashmolean last week, was a very rational boy of about seven and his proud mother.
‘I don’t believe in magic, witches or Father Christmas,’ he announced to the girl presiding over Room One.
‘Perhaps you’re spiritual but not religious,’ said the girl.
The rational boy gave her the look she deserved.
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In that first room pride of place is given to a squat little silvered bottle with a hand-written label: ‘Obtained in 1915 from an old lady living in Hove, Sussex. She remarked: “and they do say there be a witch in it, and if you let un out there’ll be a peck o’ trouble”.’
The witch bottle usually lives in the Pitt Rivers down the road, where it’s a star turn, and it’s clear why.
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