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Metro (UK)
October 11, 2013 Friday
Edition 1; Scotland
Now I'm (not) a believer: Richard Herring meets an Armenian
fortuneteller and learns of a matchmaking spirit guide
I HAD my fortune told by an old lady in Armenia last month (it's a
long story). She dropped melted wax into a bowl of water above my head
and told my future from the shapes of the cooling globules. Well, she
didn't tell my future, she told me about some stuff that had already
happened.
Actually, she didn't do that either because she didn't get anything right.
'Did you have an accident two days ago?' No. 'It might be two months.'
No. 'Or two years? There's something with an accident and the number
two.' I've had the occasional accident involving a number two but that
happens to us all, surely? Eventually, she changed tack and asked me
if I disbelieved in fortunetelling.
I conceded that I was sceptical but I really wanted to be proven wrong.
The wax said I was adrift, unable to connect with my spiritual side
and I never lit candles in church. Suddenly she was getting everything
right. The wax seemed angry with me for not lighting candles. You'd
think it would like me for not murdering its cousins.
I was told that I have a saint looking after me (she didn't tell me
which one) but I wasn't accepting his help. I felt a bit sorry for
this unappreciated saint but I was surprised to have a Christian
guardian angel, because that's not what I'd been told before.
In 2001, I went out with an actress who I had fancied from afar for
years. Eventually she had been cast in a play that I'd written
(somehow) and we ended up getting together. We were very different.
She was into crystals and believed that fairies genuinely existed. She
practised homeopathy. I am rational and scientific.
I'm 95 per cent certain there are no fairies at all. I like medicine.
But who cared? We were in love.
One weekend, we went for a t'ai chi lesson (I must have loved her).
The woman taking the class told us that she could see spirits from the
other side. Our spirit guide was in the room. My girlfriend and I
shared the same spirit guide! I didn't know that. I thought if you had
a spirit guide you'd get one to yourself, 24/7. But apparently they
take shifts.
Anyway, she told us that ours was a Red Indian (I would have said
Native American) called Running Bear. I felt that was a bit
embarrassing and clichéd. If I have a spirit guide, I'd like it to be
something quirky and unexpected, like a 19thcentury accountant called
Simon, who's secretly bisexual.
SHE said Running Bear was smiling. He'd been trying to get us together
for ages, he knew we were soulmates. Finally he'd succeeded and now
we'd be together for ever.
Which was interesting for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I'd fancied
this woman for ten years before we met and we worked in the same job.
Surely any spirit guide worth his salt could have got us together in,
what, a fortnight maximum? Secondly, we weren't soulmates: we argued
constantly and split up about two months later.
A five-year-old child could have seen we weren't meant to be. What was
Running Bear thinking, bringing together two such wildly incompatible
people? I hate Running Bear. He's a dick. I am glad my ancestors wiped
out his entire civilisation.
Though I do grudgingly respect him for agreeing to spiritually assist
the descendants of the people who did that to his culture. Very
forgiving.
Maybe that's why he's bringing together such unsuitable couples. The
subtlest revenge.
Richard's show, We're All Going to Die!, is at London's Leicester
Square Theatre until Sunday. For tickets and details, visit
www.richardherring.com
From: Baghdasarian
October 11, 2013 Friday
Edition 1; Scotland
Now I'm (not) a believer: Richard Herring meets an Armenian
fortuneteller and learns of a matchmaking spirit guide
I HAD my fortune told by an old lady in Armenia last month (it's a
long story). She dropped melted wax into a bowl of water above my head
and told my future from the shapes of the cooling globules. Well, she
didn't tell my future, she told me about some stuff that had already
happened.
Actually, she didn't do that either because she didn't get anything right.
'Did you have an accident two days ago?' No. 'It might be two months.'
No. 'Or two years? There's something with an accident and the number
two.' I've had the occasional accident involving a number two but that
happens to us all, surely? Eventually, she changed tack and asked me
if I disbelieved in fortunetelling.
I conceded that I was sceptical but I really wanted to be proven wrong.
The wax said I was adrift, unable to connect with my spiritual side
and I never lit candles in church. Suddenly she was getting everything
right. The wax seemed angry with me for not lighting candles. You'd
think it would like me for not murdering its cousins.
I was told that I have a saint looking after me (she didn't tell me
which one) but I wasn't accepting his help. I felt a bit sorry for
this unappreciated saint but I was surprised to have a Christian
guardian angel, because that's not what I'd been told before.
In 2001, I went out with an actress who I had fancied from afar for
years. Eventually she had been cast in a play that I'd written
(somehow) and we ended up getting together. We were very different.
She was into crystals and believed that fairies genuinely existed. She
practised homeopathy. I am rational and scientific.
I'm 95 per cent certain there are no fairies at all. I like medicine.
But who cared? We were in love.
One weekend, we went for a t'ai chi lesson (I must have loved her).
The woman taking the class told us that she could see spirits from the
other side. Our spirit guide was in the room. My girlfriend and I
shared the same spirit guide! I didn't know that. I thought if you had
a spirit guide you'd get one to yourself, 24/7. But apparently they
take shifts.
Anyway, she told us that ours was a Red Indian (I would have said
Native American) called Running Bear. I felt that was a bit
embarrassing and clichéd. If I have a spirit guide, I'd like it to be
something quirky and unexpected, like a 19thcentury accountant called
Simon, who's secretly bisexual.
SHE said Running Bear was smiling. He'd been trying to get us together
for ages, he knew we were soulmates. Finally he'd succeeded and now
we'd be together for ever.
Which was interesting for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I'd fancied
this woman for ten years before we met and we worked in the same job.
Surely any spirit guide worth his salt could have got us together in,
what, a fortnight maximum? Secondly, we weren't soulmates: we argued
constantly and split up about two months later.
A five-year-old child could have seen we weren't meant to be. What was
Running Bear thinking, bringing together two such wildly incompatible
people? I hate Running Bear. He's a dick. I am glad my ancestors wiped
out his entire civilisation.
Though I do grudgingly respect him for agreeing to spiritually assist
the descendants of the people who did that to his culture. Very
forgiving.
Maybe that's why he's bringing together such unsuitable couples. The
subtlest revenge.
Richard's show, We're All Going to Die!, is at London's Leicester
Square Theatre until Sunday. For tickets and details, visit
www.richardherring.com
From: Baghdasarian