Our quest to check out the world of alternative worship continued earlier this week.
A midweek visit to the a local Spiritual Church. What could go wrong? Well… funny story.
My friend had been to these services before so warned me what to expect. I was fully primed to hear a lot of vagueness along the lines of, “Does anyone here know someone called John?” or “Today is a good day to buy a green headscarf” – that type of thing. But we had to get there first.
Saltaire spiritual church. Off we went. Parked up. Crossed the road (looking both ways of course). Door ajar and in we went. Mister on the very clinical looking Reception was on the phone. I was impressed at how smart it all looked in there. However it was not to be. Mister told us the Spiritual Church hadn’t been at that address for about 2 years! No wonder it looked like a clinic. It probably was a clinic. There is a vasectomy clinic in Saltaire as it goes. I think that might have been it!
Bit of googling later and we found an alternative venue a few miles away, so off we went, hoping for the best. The signs were all good, particularly when we passed this inspirational bush en route.
We had time to kill, even after turning around to drive back past the Jesus bush so we could take this picture, so we had a toddle round Aldi and bought some chocolate.
My friend can’t eat nuts in the house due to her daughter’s allergy, so we sat in the car shovelling Whole Nut chocolate and staking out the Spiritual ‘church’ – AKA a small cottage in the middle of Royston Vasey until it was time to go in. We pretended to be Cagney & Lacey and then became convinced we were being watched while we were watching, (now they know that we know, that they know that we know). Like something from the Truman Show.
We had a plan to try trip up the Mediums by sowing the seed of misinformation before the ‘open circle’ of messages from the beyond began, just to see if this affected any messages we may or may not receive.
Meanwhile we were distracted by a van delivering props to the local Stage School. All kinds of backdrops and baskets of mysterious items. I have to say they were lucky nothing went AWOL as they kept leaving the back of the van open as they trooped various props and whatnot across the road in front of us. I had my eye on a large backdrop of a stained glass window but I didn’t think it would fit in the car discreetly.
The time came for when this ‘open circle’ was meant to begin, so off we popped across the road to the house we’d been staking out. It all looked a little quiet but my friend rattled the door handle while I peered in through the window saying “It just looks like someone’s house”. “It’s locked” says my friend. “Do you think it’s actually on tonight?” It was at this point that we realised that it looked like someone’s house because it WAS someone’s house. So off we scuttled, laughing away down the road like the oldest players of Knockadoor Run ever, before the poor owner answered the door – disturbed from watching Corrie!
We then decided to go into the local pub to see if they could help us. That was a tumbleweed moment in itself. Strangers in town and all that. We asked the whereabouts of the local Spiritual Church. The barmaid referred us to Tony in the corner, who might know. He did indeed and pointed us in the right direction, as his cohorts eyed us with a mixture of mistrust and derision. We didn’t help ourselves when we were in such a hurry to leave that we both got stuck in the doorframe together – bouncing off one another in our haste to escape.
Can I get another FFS please?
So we found the right place. We’d been parked on the wrong street. So now we were late. Too late to put our plan into action because the show had already started. We crept upstairs, hunched over trying to slink in unnoticed, Bit tricky as the stairs led right to the front of the open circle, right in front of this veranda thing where the Mediums were all seated as they waited their turn to ask out for anyone who might know a John.
Poker faces on, we took a seat and pretended like we’d been there the whole time.
Then it all went a bit Shirley Ghostman then when the youngest looking Medium sought out a lady on the front row and told her that her son was a growing lad and needed his own private time. He should therefore be left alone in his room to crack on with whatever it was he was doing in there that teenage boys liked to do so much.
(me whispering:) “Did she just tell that woman her dead mother watches her teenage son wanking?”
She then moved on to another lady who she said had recently had an operation. The lady agreed. Yes she had. “You keep looking at them in the mirror don’t you love?” “Well let me tell you that they’re not as bad to look at as you think” (as she made cupping gestures towards her own chest).
I maintained a straight face as I felt like I was on that episode of Phoenix Nights with Clinton Baptiste.
I’m not convinced that I was convinced by any of the vague messages from the eternal other side. They were all a little vague for me. Even though some of them seemed to make sense to the recipients. Something about cats and walking though leaves. The usual guff about a missing watch or a move. A less than impressive “I’m getting told that your mother has recently passed?” to a woman with a tattoo reading MUM RIP 2016 on her shoulder. Well done Derek Acorah – I could’ve told you that!
Despite sending out all the right vibes, I was not lucky enough to receive a vague message about a cat or a rabbit or that my cousin’s uncle’s mum’s budgie was now in a better place.
Maybe next time. It was very entertaining so I’d definitely go again but perhaps get there on time.