The White Witch of the Western Isles

I was given a copper torc by the grandmother of a friend many years ago. The old lady was a native Gaelic speaker and would rarely admit to understanding English let alone speaking it, but that day she spoke it to me. She said “Wear this with seven blessings said upon it. Wear it for saving my grandson and may you never again have pain in that knee”.

I, perhaps, should explain some things here. First, I broke my knee at 17 years old in a silly accident falling off of my little sisters push bike. Old Mary, as she was known, had, as far as I know, no knowledge of the incident. She just knew. Second, her grandson, my friend, saved me as often as I did him.

That left knee used to predict rain. It would predict frost too and it would hurt like hell in the process. On occasions, without warning it would refuse to hold me up and down I would go. Embarrassing, to say the least, on certain occasions.

I have worn Old Mary’s gift ever since. The knee still predicts weather, but with a dull ache not stabbing pain and it has never, since the day I put her gift on my wrist, let me down.

I don’t claim this is because of witchcraft, be it white or any other colour. I don’t know if the copper does something which no-one quite understands. I have no idea if the seven blessings she claimed to have put on it have any effect at all.

It may be some sort of magic, or it may be simple psychology, that I sort of believe and my mind does the rest.

All I know is that for some reason it seems to work and I will not have that simple torc removed for love nor money.

Old Mary’s long gone now, as is her grandson, but I remember the pair of them every time my eye falls on that cheap copper torc. Cheap in monetary terms, but it means one hell of a lot to me.