Yet another piece of “rubbish writing”.

Don’t deny it, it happens to you too. You’re sitting at your desk drinking your coffee. You put the cup down and it disappears. You turn around but the cup is just not there. Your body tells you that there was still some liquid in that cup and its disappearance increases your desire to drink it.

After what seems to be an age, the cup re-appears and it re-appears in a place that you can’t reach without leaving your seat. It reappears in a place that you just can’t remember putting it and where you wouldn’t have put it anyway.

Sometimes a similar thing happens with your half eaten sandwich or chocolate bar.

“I must be losing my marbles,” you say to yourself then forget it until the next time.

“Poltergeists,” I hear you say. Don’t even mention poltergeists. I can’t stand them. They are bad tempered and have no sense of humour. They just throw stuff for no reason.

Yes you do, don’t deny it.

Sorry about that, they butt in too when they’re not wanted.

I’m the one who moves things around.

Me? I’m the tutelary of this house. There’s another in the garden, although we’ve never met. I think she may be the one who eats all the blackcurrants just before you get to the bushes. And you thought it was the birds.

We tutelaries guard our allotted places. We don’t want thanks, but we crave recognition. Just a small sacrifice once in a while would do. That’s why we move things around. We want you to think about our needs. Why don’t you set up a little altar for us. I’d quite like a Guanyin, special for me, on the mantle shelf and the occasional biscuit, a few nuts or some chocolate. No fruit though, it gives me wind and you get those funny smells that has you cleaning out the fridge and cupboards.

“What’s in it for me?” I hear you say. Who do you think keeps your home and garden free from evil spirits?

No, you’re not an evil spirit, you’re a poltergeist. You’re not clever enough or evil enough to be an evil spirit.

Sorry, but he has to be told. He was here before the house was built and we have an agreement that he can stay, provided that he doesn’t throw things, at least not too often.

You can’t see me? Dogs and cats can. They sit and stare with their fur on end. Quite unnerving. Some children can see me, especially those who haven’t had their creativity and spontaneity stifled.

You can summon me, though. If you ever get that feeling that something untoward, an evil spirit, is about in the house then a short mantra will alert me. In fact, “Om,” will suffice. Just say “Om,” and I’ll be there.

Don’t forget that little statue, and I have a fondness for custard creams. Oops.

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