Tuesday, 8 May 2012

It's Hard To Believe When You're The Grandson of Jesus

 My grandfather was the next Christ.

He was certain of this, the lines on his palm formd a cross which was evidence enough for him. I've always viewed crosses the way Bill Hicks summed them up, d'you think Jesus ever wants to see a cross again?

My Grandfather had been through the Second World War and written up his life story which ended with the words and then I married and had two children. The End..

Later in life he found he could heal by laying on his hands and rinsing the wound in blue spirit water. When I was 13 he phoned and told me I wasn't me, I was his deceasd brother. A picture I had given to him had fallen from his wall 3 times and landed beside a picture of his brother which had lead him to conclude that I was his dead brother reborn.

You're Eddie

I said nothing.

You're Eddie.

I continued saying nothing.

You should change your name to Eddie.

I said Uhm.

He continued on this theme for a while. I didn't need to be scared, but I was the reincarnation of Eddie who'd died at 13 after a bit of bad diagnosis by a doctor. It would make sense for me to change my name to Eddie, and change my surname to his surname. My deceased relatives wanted me to do it, he wanted me to do it. When was I going to do it?

On around the 4th phone call of being told I was Eddie I had my James Dean moment of teenage rebellion and shouted into the phone


I ran off in slow motion and played Def Leppard on my headphones standing under my Bruce Willis poster.

The Eddie situation was dropped and was replaced with advice along the lines of -

Don't every get drunk, if you are ever want to know what being drunk is like I will tell you.

A few years later I ignored this advice, drank a bottle of Thunderbird Apple Wine and vomited in someones sleeping bag. I forgot to confess this and 2 hours later woke up to see my mate step into his sleeping bag, then leap out of it covered in my half digested Pringles. I got drunk and vomited in many more places after that – graveyards, bathrooms, out of windows, on motorbikes. I had a fair degree of fun getting to the vomiting stage and damn I looked cool smoking.

Use your powers, learn to travel astrally.

Years later I had an out of body moment. I found myself floating above my body drifting towards the ceiling. I drifted along seeing in extreme close up how badly the ceiling was painted and looking down on the cockroaches that shared the apartment with us. I drifted through the lounge toward the air vent above the front door. I knew I could float anywhere, I could travel back to London and see what my friends were doing, I could fly across the oceans and watch whales breach and freighters freight. I could sit and wait to see Monkey be born from an egg on a mountain top. Then I became very aware of how quick I get lost. I can turn left out of my street and loose my bearings and I have lived her for 7 years. I get lost on the far side of the office from my desk. I even get confused going for a pee in the night. With the world laid out ahead of me on the other side of an air vent as I nudged against the ceiling I panicked. I didn't want to get lost in Tibet and be late for work. I didn't want to get stuck in Milton Keynes trying to figure which roundabout would point me back to Australia via the astral plane. This panic caused me to snap back and tumble back into my body and since then I've never drifted ceiling-ward again – which isn't really something I mind.

You can heal if you love absolutely.

He was a faith healer who – in his own words – even healed a black woman once. My daughter had an accident and one bereft clutch at anything night I thought what harm could it do to try? I loved my daughter absolutely, so surely if I could do this, if he had been right about powers then this would be the time to discover it. I held her bandages while my wife and my son slept. I pictured the burns falling away, washed with the same blue spirit liquid he'd told me about, and I hoped. A few days later the dressings were removed - and the burns were still there.

I went to a church of his once. The room was full of folding chairs and folk in winter coats. The air smelt of tea, nicotene and wet socks. A man stood on stage reasurring the audience that their loved ones were on the other side in the light. My grandfather introduced me and the crowd made happy sounds. I was asked up on stage to read auras and I stood there blushing as a woman stood, pink scarf, aged face, wide smile.

What coloours do you see?

I saw the colour Uhm. The colour Hmm. The colour Err.

Just say what you see.

I squinted.


Excellent, and where do you see that?

Around her – head?


The man clapped and explained that she had yellow around her head as she was a bright, sunny person.

What else?

I had hoped to get away with one colour but they wanted more.



Around her – hips?


She nodded fiercly.

My hips are sore come winter and I've had some stomach flu.

What else?

I had an urge to sing a rainbow.

Red – around her – her – her – hands.

I thought of Lady Macbeth.

Around her hands?


Are you sure?


I – I can't see that. Are you sure about red.

They were all staring a me so I frowned.

Maybe it is pink?

YES. Pink. Because she has loving hands, giving hands, generous hands.

I finally got to sit down and have some lemon squash. The old lady hugged me and stroked my face with her ethereal pink and generous hands, then handed me a Rich Tea biscuit and kept the Chocolate Hob Nobs for herself.

My Grandfather died, and he hasn't come back yet. Maybe he's biding his time. Standing on stage though, picking random colours that I couldn't see, was one of the first moments I thought Hold up lads, this faith business is a load of old nonsense isn't it?

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