Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Of Bonnets and Bibles

So what happened when I finally regressed to a former life?

A couple of months back, for reasons completely unbeknown nor unexplainable, the Powers that Be decided to sit the company's fundamentalist Christian next to me. Possibly in the hope of germinating some 'odd couple' style sit-com. Possibly in the hope of one of us will temper the other - and either he will be a screaming gay and stop tutting at all the office girls living in sin, or that I will suddenly find religion and stop giggling every time someone offers around a chocolate finger.

Neither of these things has happened, and there's an uneasy No Man's Land between our two desks. He's trying to encroach on it with self-help books with underlying religious hypnotism, which I shore up with issues of Marie-Clare opened up to articles about women's orgasms. And while I'm wheeling and flapping around at my desk like some injured seagull to Kylie, he's reaching for his Good News tome in another hilarious episode of 'Me And My Bible!'

So when I mentioned that I'd been for a regression into a past life, he had his typical reaction of tutting and burying his head in Exodus. This was clearly Not Part Of His World, but all the office girls were enraptured. So I told them about how rare it was for people to remember being a different sex, and that being even rarer in men.

So of course I was a fabulous society lady called Veronica, who had a rather marvellous line in big hats.

It was brilliant fun. I gave birth to a son, who turns out to be my sister in this life. And, of course, the Wife was my husband (I'd recognise that beard anywhere). But the trauma of the whole thing was that you go through the whole life, right through to the end. Yes, right through the death, which was an experience, I can tell you.

Now I'm still undecided on this as to whether it was real or not; certainly it seemed it at the time, but it also seemed too... clich├ęd. Like I was patching together bits of old films to make a narrative. But I did get a list of names and places that I'm going to validate in the next couple of weeks, so I'll let you all know.

I finished the story to find that my head was damp. That little Christian sod had been subtly flicking holy water over me - as he'd used to whenever I'd talked loudly about bumming (or 'channelling the Brown Arts' as I may have referred to it). So I reciprocated by flicking a spoonful of my morning yoghurt back, with great success.

Apparently nothing says 'Shut up, you right-wing nutcase!' like a glob of Muller in the eye.

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