Acting unprofessionally and out of character revisited

A few examples of people causing damage by acting unprofessionally and out of character have been given in the past; the time has now come to go into this phenomenon in a little more detail. 

The multi-level approach to finding explanations article mentions some of the influences that might cause people who are normally professional and efficient to behave uncharacteristically and make serious mistakes; this article revisits the issue, expands on these influences and includes some supporting material from previous articles.

The cases of interest here are those that occur at the third level down, the dimension where unseen influences such as energy vampires, people with witch-like personalities, psychic crime and psychological black magic operate.

There are questions to ask and possibilities to eliminate at each level before descending to the one below; there are also some points to be made before starting the exercise.

The definition of the problem
It is important to understand that examples of people doing something wrong are worth investigating only where two elements appear together i.e. when someone acts both unprofessionally and out of character. After all, some people will act unprofessionally because this is their usual mode of operation; not only that, a few of these incompetents might act out of character by doing a good, professional job for once! Neither of these groups is relevant here.

Acceptable margin of error
People are not machines; they sometimes have off days. Occasional errors will be made and should be allowed for, but an investigation into the cause is called for when so much damage has been done that the mistake cannot be overlooked, excused or explained away.

This is where the multi-level approach comes in.

Level 1: the person and the job
On this, the top, level, it is best to work systematically through a list of the most obvious and likely explanations for a damaging, out of character action. The possibilities fall into two groups: one is of factors in the life of the person who made the mistake and the other of common and typical problems with the job.

L. M. Montgomery, curses and two suspicious deaths

The article about the novelist Mary Webb contains an account of what happened some years after her death to her husband and his second wife. This is a good example of the 'curse or coincidence?' scenario, which is featured in several other articles.

I was reminded of this case by something that I recently read in a biography of Lucy Maud Montgomery: there are two similar, possibly suspicious, deaths in her life too.

Each case is all the more significant in the light of the other one, and even more so when put into the wider context of suspicious deaths involving other creative people who might have used unseen influences against someone who injured them.

A summary of the Mary Webb affair

Mary Webb's husband Henry became more and more distant from her: she was difficult to live with and he was attached to an attractive young pupil of his.  When Mary Webb died, the sales of her books took off; her husband soon married the ex-pupil and they got all the royalties. Their new life of luxury came to an end when Henry Webb died prematurely after an 'accident' while mountain climbing. His widow remarried, but just like Mary Webb she died of an incurable disease at the age of forty-six.

A summary of the L. M. Montgomery affair

When she was around 23 years old, L. M. Montgomery became infatuated with a very attractive man called Herman Leard. They enjoyed each other's company, but nothing came of it. Her side of the story, which she mentioned in journals written for eventual publication, is that despite being overwhelmed by her feelings for him, she rejected him because he was unworthy of her. She considered him beneath her socially, intellectually and educationally. 

Herman Leard died in 1899, one year after she had last seen him, possibly of complications from influenza. He was almost 29 years old. He had been engaged to a very beautiful young woman who mourned him for some years, married someone else and died 10 years after Leard's death.

More occult-related damage to August Strindberg’s family

This is yet another article in the series inspired by the Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno.

As described here, Strindberg made two of his older children very ill when his attempt to influence his little girl by the use of psychological black magic missed its mark.  

This article highlights two more examples from Inferno of the harmful effects that occult activities had on his family.

The two dabblers in the occult

Inferno has many references to the occult and its practitioners.

It is not always clear what aspect of the occult Strindberg is talking about. He could mean mediums and spiritualism or even just metaphysical books rather than ill-wishing, cursing and other forms of black magic in the case of two women connected to him who ‘studied occultism’.

Strindberg says this about his mother-in-law and aunt:

“Both starting from a neutral point of view as regards religion had begun to study occultism. From that moment onwards they suffered from sleepless nights, mysterious accidents accompanied by terrible fears, and at last, attacks of madness. The invisible furies pursue their prey up to the very gates of the city of refuge—religion.”

Attacks of madness? This sounds remarkably like what happened to the friend of Strindberg’s youth and his family, not to mention Strindberg himself.

Sleepless nights, terrible fears and mysterious accidents? These come with the territory.

Being hounded by invisible furies is a very good description of what happens to people who attract the attention of malevolent forces.

Some people contaminate everything and everyone they touch. 

Were the two women’s unwise activities and the devastating results caused or influenced by bad energy and malign forces that surrounded Strindberg?

We can’t be sure, but it seems likely.

Some miscellaneous material from Strindberg’s Inferno

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno.

Included here are some miscellaneous incidents and details of yet another ‘friendship’ that ended badly. The material speaks for itself; it is all typical of Strindberg and his life; it is all typical of things that happen to people who use occult instead of natural methods to go through life and get what they want. 

The meal that backfired

This is a very small incident, but it is significant in terms of what happens to people who use psychological black magic.

Strindberg’s mother-in-law cooked what she said was his favourite dish; not only was it not at the top of his list, it was something he disliked more than anything else. He had to force himself to eat the revolting dish.

He got the exact opposite of what he expected.

The worst towns in Sweden

Strindberg said this:

“There are ninety towns in Sweden, and the powers have condemned me to go to the one which I most dislike.” 

The powers? He blamed ‘occultists and their secret powers’ for his many misfortunes when he himself was often the cause.

He moved on to another Swedish town:

“...I have made personal enemies here, and have contracted debts under circumstances which set my character in a dubious light... I have also here relations who ignore me, and friends who have left me to become my enemies. In a word, it is the worst place I could have chosen for a quiet residence; it is hell...”

So he ended up in the exact opposite of the peaceful refuge he wanted, with more former friends who had become his enemies and more debts. Same old same old...

Some afterthoughts about August Strindberg’s occult battles

I have had a few afterthoughts about the previously mentioned occult battles involving August Strindberg and his ‘friends’.

As described in the second article in the secret friend series, the theosophist made many threats when Strindberg refused to obey orders. In return, Strindberg threatened to use occult powers of his own. He warned his friend that what happened to someone who had tried to interfere with Strindberg’s destiny back in Sweden some years earlier could happen to him too.

Strindberg gives some details of his earlier encounter with this other man who, just as the secret friend would later do, tried to impose his will on Strindberg from a position of superiority.

I can see some common elements in his dealings with these two men. Some of my comments on Strindberg’s relationships with his mystery man and other people are relevant here too.

First approaches and negative responses

It was the other man who made the first move. Strindberg tells us:

“I received a letter from a friend of my youth inviting me and my children to stop with him for a year, he made no mention of my wife. This letter, with its affected style, its corrections and omissions, seemed to betray some hesitation on the part of the writer in the choice of the reasons which he alleged for his invitation. As I suspected some trap, I declined the offer in a few non-committal polite phrases.”

This reminds me of what happened years later when Strindberg received the first letter from his secret friend. He took offence at its tone and sent a discouraging reply.

A very good definition of a witch

I found a very good definition of a witch recently, from a writer I had never previously heard of:

“Perhaps I am the only person who, asked whether she were a witch or not, could truthfully say, ‘I do not know. I do know some very strange things have happened to me, or through me.’"
 From Bless This House by Norah Lofts

This is independent confirmation of something I have been thinking and writing about for many years. Strange things, both good and bad, do indeed happen to, through and around some people; the speaker above is far from being the only person to experience strange phenomena.

Synchronicity, very good or very bad timing and amazing coincidences are often involved, and so are what might be called blessing and, its opposite, cursing. The same person may be able to perform both actions:

“’Blessings be on this house,’ Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people's minds on what other things might be on this house.”

From Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett’s witch books are very amusing, with occasional serious comments and thought-provoking ideas about magic and witches. 

“There were really only four types of people in the world: men and women and wizards and witches.”

From I Shall Wear Midnight by Terry Pratchett

August Strindberg’s mystery man again

This article in the series inspired by Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno is an addition to the one about the American mystery man who was for a while Strindberg’s close and sole companion.

It contains a few more ideas about this episode in his life. It is useful to put these things into some sort of context, so although not all of the material is directly relevant it is connected to Strindberg in some way. Even Nietzsche gets a mention!

The ‘former American friend’

In this case, it is not obvious who is the main victim and who the victimiser.

Perhaps this man was a mirror or a messenger. Perhaps Strindberg appeared and behaved to others as the mystery man did to him. Perhaps Strindberg had just as bad an effect on the man - and others - as the man had on him. It is often said that like attracts like and a man is known by the company he keeps.

It could just be that both men were in a psychotic state at the time so were strongly drawn to each other.

There is no free will at the lowest levels, just strong currents that can overwhelm people. Maybe both men were trapped in a bad psychological neighbourhood, a place where no normal healthy person could or would venture.   

Maybe his use of black magic against his little daughter put Strindberg into the power of something that only lets its hostages and puppets associate with others in the same position.

Perhaps some scripted scenarios were at work.

August Strindberg and the mystery man

Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to the Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno have inspired many articles. This one describes Strindberg’s involvement with a mysterious man, the artist previously introduced as his ‘former American friend’.

Strindberg generously took this man into his life for a while, only to be met with envy and a refusal to acknowledge his successes. Strindberg changed for the worse, both inwardly and outwardly, during the time that this man was his close and sole companion.

Was this relationship merely one that was typical of the time, the place and the people involved, or were unseen influences at work?

There are certainly a few familiar metaphysical elements in the case.

How it all began

Strindberg tells of how a stranger, an American artist, turned up in a Paris restaurant that he and his circle liked to visit.

Although this man seemed like an active and bold spirit and was like a breath of fresh air, Strindberg experienced some vague feelings of mistrust. He sensed that the confident demeanour was just a façade and all was not well below the surface.

His instincts were correct. Just about everything in this man’s life that could go wrong had gone wrong. He soon approached Strindberg for help:

“One evening the unfortunate man came into my room and asked for permission to remain there a short time. He looked like a lost man, and such in fact he was. His landlord had driven him out of his studio, his grisette had left him, he was head over ears in debt, and his creditors were dunning him; he was insulted in the streets by the supporters of his unpaid models…

Since he was also heavily in debt to the restaurant, he had to go about the streets, hungry. Among other things he confessed that he had taken morphia enough to kill two people, but death apparently did not yet want him.”

In other words, he and his life were in a complete mess.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part V

Previous articles in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to an episode in August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno cover some of the misfortunes that Strindberg brought upon himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

This article will cover a few more incidents of particular interest. It describes some minor accidents and bizarre and offensive behaviour by random strangers that ruined Strindberg’s enjoyment when he visited a café and a restaurant.  

After describing one accident, Strindberg assures the reader that he is speaking the truth. I believe that Strindberg is indeed telling the truth in his accounts of all these incidents. You couldn’t make all this up! The small details are very convincing, and once again there are some familiar elements in his stories.

Strindberg and the café incidents

Not long after he had performed his evil action, Strindberg experienced a string of small but very annoying and sometimes amusing - although not to him - incidents every time he went to a certain Paris café. 

Strindberg’s main pleasure in life at the time was to sit with a glass of absinthe, a cigarette and some newspapers under a chestnut tree on the terrace of a café that he favoured. He would go in the early evening to relax for an hour or so after finishing his day’s work; he favoured a particular spot that he thought of as his place. Then it all started to go wrong:

“...this hour of a visionary happiness, for from this evening onwards it is disturbed by a series of annoyances which cannot be attributed to chance. ... I find my place, which has been reserved for me daily for nearly two years, occupied; all the other chairs are also taken. Deeply annoyed, I have to go to another café.”

He returned the next day, only for this to happen:

“My old corner ... is again vacant, and I am again under my chestnut behind the Marshal, feeling contented, even happy. My well-concocted absinthe is there, my cigarette lighted, and the Temps spread out.

Then a drunken man passes; a hateful-looking fellow, whose mischievous, contemptuous air annoys me. His face is red, his nose blue, his eyes malicious. I taste my absinthe, and feel happy not to be like this sot.... There! I don't know how, but my glass is upset and empty. Without sufficient money to order another, I pay for this and leave the café. Certainly it was again the Evil One who played me this trick.”

August Strindberg and his Inferno

Colin Wilson’s book The Occult provided the lead for a series of articles about the string of misfortunes that the playwright August Strindberg brought upon himself by consciously and deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

Although there are a few more misfortunes still to come, I have taken time out to cover a few associated points and issues. 

One very obvious question to ask is how much of what Strindberg wrote in his book Inferno is actually true. There is also the problem of the accounts of his experiences getting changed or lost in translation.

Problems with the Inferno book

Colin Wilson gives a good summary of some of the incidents; his account made me want to read the whole story for myself. I was delighted to find Inferno available in the public domain on Project Gutenberg. However, there are some drawbacks that other people interested in going to directly to the source should be aware of.  

August Strindberg was Swedish; he wrote Inferno in French; there are many different English editions and translations available, with a variety of introductions.

Inferno is a novel. It is autobiographical, but Strindberg’s stories about incidents in his life may have been invented, exaggerated or distorted, possibly for concealment or for dramatic purposes.

Strindberg jumps around in time and from place to place and country to country, so it is not always easy to see when and where an incident happened and whether or not it can be directly connected to his evil action against his family.

Strindberg sounds melodramatic and paranoid for much of the time. He frequently mentions a ‘Hidden Hand’ that he believes guides events and intervenes in his affairs, for good and evil. He was an absinthe drinker and is said to have suffered from schizophrenia. This makes it difficult to take some of his ramblings and ravings seriously; it also makes it difficult to determine whether or not something actually happened, and if so whether or not it had any real significance.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part IV

The previous articles in the series inspired by an episode in August Strindberg’s Inferno and Colin Wilson’s account of it in The Occult give details of some of the unpleasant experiences that Strindberg brought on himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

Such activities are asking for trouble. They surround the practitioner with bad energy and evil influences which affect not only them but also the people around them.

This article uses some minor incidents from Inferno to illustrate this point. They seem very significant to me because they provide independent confirmation of what I have read elsewhere; I have also experienced something similar myself.

Bad energy and Strindberg’s little girl

The following incident took place after Strindberg got back together with his wife and little girl. His daughter was two and a half years old at the time:

“During the evening meal the following incident happens. In order to help my little daughter, who cannot yet help herself, I touch her hand quite gently and kindly. The child utters a cry, draws her hand back, and casts at me a glance full of alarm.

When her grandmother asks what is the matter, she answers, ‘He hurts me.’ In my confusion I am unable to utter a word. How many persons have I deliberately hurt, and hurt still, though without intending it.”

Some people have a very damaging effect on others because of what they are surrounded with and broadcasting.

At least Strindberg felt bad about hurting his child; some parents add insult to injury by punishing their children for shrinking from and avoiding them.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part III

The previous articles in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s account in The Occult of an episode from August Strindberg’s Inferno describe some of the unpleasant experiences that Strindberg brought on himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

One of these experiences was being persecuted by noise. This article gives some more details of his ordeal.

Taking the problem with him

Strindberg eventually left the noisy hotel where people played pianos in the rooms next to his - he had to pawn some belongings to pay the bill - and went to live in a monastic establishment for Catholic students where women and children are not permitted.

Surely he would get some peace there.

Not a chance! Not with the bad energy that was surrounding him. 

Even though it was against the rules of the house, a family soon took up residence in the room next to his. He heard people quarrelling and babies howling. This reminded him of the ‘good old days’ when he was with his own family.

Strange and sinister sounds

The family left, but weird things happened in an adjoining room. The new occupant mirrored Strindberg’s actions:

“The Unknown never speaks; he appears to be occupied in writing on the other side of the wall which divides us. Curiously enough, whenever I move my chair, he moves his also, and, in general, imitates all my movements as though he wished to annoy me. Thus it goes on for three days. 

On the fourth day I make the following observations: If I prepare to go to sleep, he also prepares to go to sleep in the next room; when I lie down in bed, I hear him lie down on the bed by my wall. I hear him stretch himself out parallel with me; he turns over the pages of a book, then puts out the lamp, breathes loud, turns himself on his side, and goes to sleep. He apparently occupies the rooms on both sides of me, and it is unpleasant to be beset on two sides at once. “

The same man was shadowing Strindberg on both sides? Even weirder.

The noises here were disturbing not because they were deafening but because they were synchronised with Strindberg’s actions and movements.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part II

The first article in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to an episode in August Strindberg’s autobiographical book Inferno tells how Strindberg brought major trouble on himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

This article will give more details of some of the misfortunes.

First, something about the unforeseen side effects of the evil procedure that Strindberg performed.

Off-the-mark magic

It is very common for psychological black magic to backfire or miss the mark in some way. Hitting the wrong target is what happened in Strindberg’s case. 

Strindberg hoped to get a telegram from his wife asking him to come at once because his little girl was ill. No telegram arrived; his devious plan to make his child fall ill to give him an opportunity to get back together with his family had failed.

However, his procedure had an unexpected side effect:

“In the course of the spring ... I received a letter from the children of my first marriage, informing me that they had been very ill in hospital.”

Strindberg believed that the illness of his older children was no coincidence. He was convinced that he had caused it with his special powers:

“At an earlier period, in the great crisis of my life, I had observed that I could exercise a telepathic influence on absent friends.”

“When I compared the time of their illness with my mischievous attempt at magic, I was alarmed. I had frivolously played with hidden forces, and now my evil purpose, guided by an unseen Hand, had reached its goal, and struck my heart.”

All this reminds me of what Joyce Collin-Smith said about the Maharishi Yogi, although the Maharishi appeared to get away with everything and suffered no backlash, no misfiring  and no side effects. 

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part I

The Swedish playwright and essayist August Strindberg endured much bad luck and a long string of misfortunes, some serious, in 1896. Everything went wrong; his life became one long nightmare. It was as if he had been cursed. There were some strange events and uncanny coincidences in the case too.

I first learned about this episode in Strindberg’s life from The Occult by Colin Wilson, who got his information from Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno. This bizarre book, which can be found on Project Gutenberg, is based on the diary that Strindberg kept at the time. 

Strindberg believed that he had brought all his troubles on himself and attracted evil influences into his life by deliberately using his special powers in an attempt to practise psychological black magic.

There is much material of interest and some familiar features in this case. It will take more than one article to summarise even the most relevant and significant details of the nightmare episode, provide a commentary and make some connections.

We begin with some information about when and why the trouble started.

An obvious starting point

As described in many articles, there have been occasions in my life when, after going for days, weeks, months, even years without anything unusual to report, I suddenly experience a string of minor misfortunes. There is an obvious starting point to the incidents; they stand out in comparison with the preceding uneventful days.

It seems to me very significant that Strindberg was going through a good patch in his life just before it all went wrong. In his own words:

“The summer and autumn of the year 1895 I count, on the whole, among the happiest stages of my eventful life. All my attempts succeed; unknown friends bring me food as the ravens did to Elijah. Money flows in; I can buy books and scientific instruments...”

Then he did something that caused it all to go into reverse. There is an obvious starting point to his misfortunes, which stand out in comparison with his prior easy existence.

A meeting and another string of minor misfortunes

I have written several article about days when everything went wrong for me and I experienced some jarring incidents.

I have described some minor misfortunes and unpleasant occurrences, their effects and my ideas about their causes. 

These bad days are exceptional, but they still happen. The latest ‘one of those days’ was yesterday.

The misfortunes

They were very minor and also very typical.

I had left home and was walking towards the bus stop, when the sudden fear that I might not have switched off some plugs came into my mind. The fatal fire in the tower block in June has made me extra careful, so I went back and found that everything was in order. When my resistance is low, as it was at this time, wrong ideas get into my system like germs into a wound.

I went to get some money from the nearest ATM machine. Normally it says, "Please take your card and wait for your money", but this time it just said "Please wait", and I waited and waited and waited.

Eventually, I decided that something must be wrong so I pressed the Cancel button a few times, but nothing happened. I was very worried, and thought I would have to go into the bank first thing next morning and try to sort it out. Suddenly, the machine disgorged my money and card. It was lucky that I was still there to take them. I had trouble with this machine once before – again at a time when I was affected by bad energy.

I went on to pick up some parcels from a shop – I love the ‘Click & Collect’ option! I had intended to get there just before it opened, so I was worried that as I was behind schedule it would be packed with people. I worried unnecessarily. I had checked the opening time online, but actually they didn't open until one hour later so I had to kill some time. Then they couldn't find one of my parcels; they tracked it down eventually though.

Yet another string of minor incidents

I recently experienced a string of minor misfortunes while out on a shopping trip.There was a time when such incidents would have been very jarring but not any more; I was not affected at all. I even tried to mentally bring some positivity into the atmosphere.

The first incident happened when the bus I was on swept past a bus stop without stopping. A woman who had wanted to get off there became very angry, all the more because the next stop was a fair distance away so she had a long walk back. She swore at the driver.  He said that she should have rung the bell; she insisted that she had rung it. She seemed a bit disturbed and disconnected, and her voice had a strange, unpleasant tone.

The next incident took place in a small supermarket. A woman left her queue to go back and get some item she had forgotten. She took her time, leaving a lot of people waiting. Someone mentioned this, quite politely, to her when she came back – without apologising for the delay - and she took offence and got into an argument with him. Staff had to intervene.

When I was on the bus on the return journey, there was trouble involving a man in a wheelchair who wanted to get off and a passenger who intervened on his behalf. The driver closed the doors to let the ramp down, but she jumped to the wrong conclusion and thought that he was going to move on without letting the man off. She shouted for him to stop. 

It was just a misunderstanding, but the bus driver got annoyed and said, "I'm not blind!" She got annoyed and said there was no need for him to be so rude. As she got off a few stops later, she told the driver that he should not have spoken like that to someone who was just trying to help. 

Soon after that, the bus made a sudden, violent swerve and I was thrown forwards.

A young tourist asked me if she was on the right bus. I tried to help, but it seemed that her English wasn’t good enough for her to understand what I said, despite all my efforts. This was frustrating. I showed her a stop where she could change to a better bus; she produced a map and other papers and said that she knew where she was; I realised that she didn’t really need any help after all. She seemed rather vague. A very minor incident indeed, but I suspect that it was part of the string.

Two bus breakdowns: accidental or not?

I was feeling very worried and under the weather a few weeks ago. I went for a series of long bus rides just to get away from things and see some new areas, buildings, houses and parks. Perhaps I should have stayed in until the bad feelings passed, as on one occasion there was a minor incident.

I was on a single-decker bus that stopped at the foot of a steep hill to pick up some people. When the driver tried to move on, it just made strange noises and juddered a bit. He was unable to get it going again, despite making every effort. He radioed for help, and was instructed to get us all off so that we could catch the next bus.

As the driver stepped off the bus, he turned to me and said:

“This is all your fault!”

He was only joking, but many a true word is spoken in jest.

No one was inconvenienced for very long: the next bus came along in under 10 minutes. The driver obviously appreciated a break in routine, a little excitement and the chance to have a cigarette. Even so, I did feel a little guilty.

I have had strange experiences with malfunctioning electrical equipment in the past, always when I was feeling very jangled. I also remembered a day many years ago when something similar happened.

Another recent string of minor misfortunes

I wrote about a bad day I had in a previous post. I have had a few more bad days recently, and I have a good idea what caused them.

I kept walking into and tripping over things at home, giving myself some bruises.

I went out on some errands. I fell very heavily just outside the library: all I did was step on a tiny stone, but it rocked forward, threw me off balance and tipped me right over. I was very shaken; I got some more bruises and I grazed my hands. 

Inside the library, a machine took my reservation money but did not credit my account; luckily the library staff believed me when I said I had paid, and they sorted it out.

I had a jarring shock when my internet connection suddenly stopped working when I was in the middle of something important. I did get it working again, but I had some bad moments.

The worst aspect was feeling depressed, apathetic and just plain terrible: as always, it got worse and worse then slowly wore off.

My normal practice at times such as this is to work backwards and look for an energy vampire. This time, I knew that a possibly stupid action of mine was responsible.

It all started when I saw a post on a consumer forum from someone who had discovered that his name and address details could easily be found online, even though he had opted out of the open electoral register. 

I went on the site he mentioned, and could not resist trying the name of someone I had not seen for a very long time: I went ‘no contact’ by choice as I just couldn’t take any more.

A recent string of minor misfortunes

I had a bad day recently, the exact opposite of what I expected. 

I had planned a circular walkabout that would combine fresh air, exercise, errands, a treat and a visit to a park. 

Unfortunately, it was more of an endurance test than an enjoyable experience. It was just one thing after another, so I gave in and went home. 

Unfortunately, that was not the end of the misfortunes.

It all started when I went to get some money from the cash machine. When I pressed the button, all I got was my balance on the screen. I felt paranoid, as though I had been cut off from my money. After a few more tries, I realised that the menu text on the screen was misaligned with the buttons. I got my cash out and went on to the library, where I found that my library card wouldn’t go through any of the machines so had to ask the librarian to do everything manually.

I got some takeaway breakfast items. My plan was to eat them in a local public garden. I walked down a steep street and along the park railings. The gate I wanted to use was chained up: there was a lot of construction work going on. I had to walk all the way back to another gate, past all the vans and workmen.

I was sitting on a bench drinking my coffee and reading my library book when I was interrupted by a group of young people who asked me if I would complete a survey. I don't like doing this sort of thing, and I felt jarred by having my concentration broken. The food I bought was not as good as I hoped it would be either. I walked back up the steep street to the main road, which was exhausting. I had intended to walk through a market area and back home, but I had lost all energy and inclination so got a bus back. 

I was getting my entry fob out when a strange man appeared and wanted to come in too. I told him that he should ring the bell of whoever he had come to visit. He didn’t seem to understand and still thought I would let him in, but luckily a friend came along and we both got inside by ourselves. The man was probably ok but it is amazing how these things happen at the wrong time, just when I don't feel up to dealing with them. 

Mary Webb’s legacy: curse or coincidence?

Stella Gibbons wrote Cold Comfort Farm as an antidote to and comic parody of a certain type of fiction: the rural novel as written by authors such as Mary Webb and Sheila Kaye-Smith. 

I have never been able to see the attraction of what is known as the ‘Loam and Lovechild School of Fiction’ myself  - not even Thomas Hardy’s books have the power to hold my attention – but when I read in an article I found online while researching Stella Gibbons that Stella once expressed her regret to the writer Michael Pick that she had parodied Mary Webb "because she had such an unhappy life", followed by “This was perhaps oversensitive. Webb had, after all, died five years before the publication of Cold Comfort Farm. Her life, though dogged by illness and depression, was by no means without happiness, and her childhood, compared with Stella's, had been idyllic”, I became curious about Mary Webb and decided to investigate further. 

I read the biographies The Flower of Light and Mary Webb, both by Gladys Mary Coles, and the novel Precious Bane, which is generally considered to be Mary Webb’s masterpiece.  

I found some familiar scenarios in Precious Bane; I decided to produce this article after reading about what happened to Mary Webb’s husband after her death.