Frequent Flyer Witch programme

Ever since I discovered the power of little black symbols on a white background, I’ve used every opportunity to jot a few of them down. I loved the touch of the fountain pen on a sheet of paper. I loved the ticking of an old-fashioned Remington typewriter, and the magic with which it transformed a hand-written page into something official, something book-like.

I’ve always been claiming, however, that I didn’t care about actually becoming  someone starting with a W, as the passion is in the doing, not the becoming.

But now I realise this wasn’t entirely true: there is at least one good reason to wish to be able to legitimately call myself something starting with a W. The reason comes from Chapter 55 of “The French Lieutenant’s Woman”, my beloved novel by John Fowles. The protagonist, Charles, is sitting in an empty train compartment, craving for solitude to reflect on the crisis he’s going through. Unfortunately, that won’t be long – there enters a particularly annoying stranger. A man in his forties, prophet-bearded, with an aura of confidence about him: “if not quite confidence in self, at least a confidence in his judgment of others, of how much he could get out of them, expect from them, tax them.” The man’s stare “became positively cannibalistic in its intensity”, expressing “a desire to know you in a way you do not want to be known by a stranger. In my experience there is only one profession that gives that particular look”.  That “positively cannibalistic” man is the writer himself, as is revealed a few sentences further.

What a great occupation that  is, one that gives you the right to stare voraciously at strangers and ask them inquisitive questions like: who are you? Have you found the sense of life yet? What is your one favourite food ingredient? Do you iron your own shirts yourself?

 I’ve always loved to ask those questions to strangers, to cut them open like you cut open the pages of some virgin books - but my problem is that I don’t always dare. Sometimes I’m paralysed by the fear of judgment they might make of me.  Chances are that they will suspect I want to abuse them, misuse them, earn money on them, talk them into something or plain seduce them. Sometimes they think I’m lesbian. Sometimes they think I’m looking for a one night stand (therefore, if it’s inquisitive questions or voracious stare your after - it's usually safer to attempt it in the morning. The chances that the stranger might suspect  you of being  a one-night-stand -hunter are smaller, as only extremely motivated people or extremely careful planners  begin their hunt already in the morning.)

But if I could legitimately call myself a name starting with a W, then I’d suddenly find myself beyond all suspicion. People would cheer up, feel at ease, and eagerly share their stories with me. At least, this is what I believe, as I've never tried this method so far.

And use them - I would indeed. Though probably without them noticing, and they certainly wouldn't be at a loss at all - not abused, not misused, not talked into something - only gently coaxed into telling me their story. You never know who's sitting next to you unless you start to talk.

You will never know if the serious-looking guy at the next table irons his own shirts, unless you ask. But why would  I want to know that in the first place? I don’t know. It just came to my mind suddenly, it popped up as the conversation unfolded. Within ten minutes or so I met two grown-up and be-wifed (married) men who assured me they do iron their own shirts and that they liked it that way. One of them even had the courage to give his testimonial on a video. I keep it on my phone and cherish the memory of it as a very special moment. The moment when I decided to become A WITCH.

I've decided I’ll ask all approachable strangers if they iron their shirts by themselves. It will go like this:

-          Excuse me, sir, do you mind if I ask you just one question? – no doubt the stranger will inspect me suspiciously, wondering  “What does she want from me?”, but saying probably something like this:

-          Ok, but just a short one. I’m in a bit of a hurry.

-          I’ll be short, I promise. You know, I’m a witch, and I’m currently doing some research for my new piece. Would you mind telling me if you iron your own shirts?

 I'll do it more often. I'll call myself a name. People find names so comforting. I'll introduce myself as a humble and hungry witch. A BeWitch. A Witch waiting to be BeWitched by your story.