Entry for June 22, 2007

I am a sceptic when it comes to matters supernatural. When I see mediums on the telly, I immediately begin to sigh loudly with undisguised irritation.
I do not believe in ghosts. This is a difficult position to maintain in my household as Mrs B's grandmother is one of the West of Scotland's most accurate mediums. You can regularly pop down to hers for a cup of tea and find that there are several invisible visitors taking up all the seats. You may have to stand for several hours before the incorporeal guests vacate the chaise longue.
Anyway, my scepticism runs so deep that I have decided that, if I am wrong about the existence of ghosts, and I return to this earth after my death, I am not going to haunt anyone. I am going to sit by the sea in a deck chair and read a book. I am not going to make my presence felt in any way. I do not want to give anyone evidence that I was wrong.
I like to imagine that there are ghostly deckchairs dotted around our coast where sceptical and bloody-minded ghosts sit, cursing their flimsy existence and doing Sudoko for eternity.