Almost a witch…

It’s my birthday today (yes, I may mention it a few times, no excuses) and I will always be a teensy bit sad that tomorrow isn’t my birthday. Because then I’d be a witch. I have always been convinced of this, though don’t think I have anything to base this belief on. Surely, though, being born on Halloween has to make you a witch? Or a wizard, of course (or warlock?).

I’m not religious at all. I was brought up as a practising atheist. This meant I made a point of not praying in school assemblies (I would say ‘Sssss. Ssssss. Sss. Sssssss,’ instead of the actual words (which sounded just like that to me, anyway) and didn’t go to church. Not quite as orthodox atheist as my mum was brought up – she was not allowed to go to assemblies or to any religious classes and had to, therefore, sit in the corridor on her own. She got teased terribly by the other children, but also by the teachers.

I was always encouraged and helped to find out about different religions and, when I was learning at home, we investigated Hinduism and Buddhism, as well as Christianity and the Roman and Greek Gods. I found it all fascinating, especially the Roman and Greek Gods, to be honest, but never really considered that there could be a God. The more modern religions were as mythical to me as the ancient ones.

However, I had absolutely no problem in believing in all things magical. Witches. Wizards. Dragons. Fairies. Especially fairies. We used to drive up to a country pub on as Sunday to meet up with friends and relatives for ploughmans and beer (or coke for the kids) and we would drive through some amazing woods. And past the fairies’ homes. The intricate patterns revealed where the roots of the trees were coming away from the ground and housed the fairies. There was a special tree trunk in Stratford Park, as well, which was a particular home to some fairy royalty – of which myself and my best friend were actually a part. Yes, we were fairy princesses, who had been turned into mortal children and sent to live with our adoptive parents for some reason – probably to save mankind. We were able to go and visit our fairy family by means of my friend’s mother’s Singer sewing machine table. Somehow. I forget how it worked now.

So, magic was very real to me and I wonder if it was more real to me for not having something else to believe in. Would I have been less imaginative about mythology if I’d been part of a religious tradition? Or was the imagination there, regardless?

Were you brought up religious? Did you believe in magic? Do you still? And do you think being born on Halloween makes you a witch?