You know the feeling.  You’re on your way out of the door.  You’re in a hurry; it’s vital that you leave NOW.  You reach out to pick up your keys, which should be right where you always keep them…and they aren’t there.  Nobody has moved them; they just aren’t there.  You ransack the place; aliens have apparently abducted the keys.  Three days later they turn up right where they should have been all along, or somewhere where you’ve been staring at them all the time.  The Imps are active in your life.

 

I first became aware of the existence of the Imps through reading an article by the late Madeleine Montalban.  Miss Montalban was an occultist and Magician who regularly contributed to Prediction magazine, writing about the Tarot among other things.  In one article, she wrote about the Imps and their habits.  For instance, apart from their habits of hiding things, they really dislike a clear surface.  Try it yourself; clear off a table or a shelf in your living space.  The very next person who comes in will feel compelled to put something- hat, keys, gloves- on that surface.  The story that I have always remembered, though, has to do with a whistling kettle.

 

The kettle, it seemed, was bright orange, a gift from a friend.  Madeleine took a dislike to it from the start – it had “an evil look in its eye” so she thanked the friend but put it away in a cupboard, as she already had a kettle.  However, the day came when her old kettle was no longer serviceable, so she was reluctantly forced to use the orange one.  Being in storage evidently hadn’t improved its temper, because whenever it boiled, it launched its whistle across the kitchen, breaking whatever it could on the way.  It didn’t matter how much or how little water was put into it; at the least provocation it would “launch torpedoes!” Leaving the whistle off only worked if there was no one else in, otherwise the guest would helpfully put the whistle onto the kettle’s spout.  It broke plates, smacked Madeleine on the bottom, and as its pièce de resistance dived into a bowl of trifle being prepared for a special meal, concealed itself in the whipped cream, and turned up triumphantly in the guest of honour’s bowl.

 

I once worked in an office where the door definitely had a resident Imp.  My desk was directly opposite the door, and if that door wasn’t closed, it got very draughty where I sat.  As long as that door was left open, nobody would bother us for hours at a time.  When I could stand frozen feet no more, I would get up and close it.  Within two minutes someone would come in, usually leaving the door open.  If by some chance they did close it, within a very short time someone else would come in and leave it open. 

 

I’ve had things vanish off shelves and then return, some weeks later, exactly where they should have been all the time but weren’t despite a thorough search by more than one person – and nobody has borrowed them, either.  I’ve seen keys fall down from the ceiling.  All the work of the Imps.

 

 I’ve learned to live with my Imp.  I call him Pyewackett, and he seems to like being recognised and given credit for his more spectacular performances; lately he vanished my husband’s keys and because Rune couldn’t be 100% sure that he hadn’t left the keys in the lock overnight when he came home the night before we had to have the locks changed.  The keys promptly turned up, in a place that we’d both looked for them several times.  Naturally.  He’s managed to hide the FrontPage for the Intellectually Challenged books that I need to help me build my website so that I have had to borrow books out of the library.  If I were to give in and replace my lost books the originals would turn up immediately.   That Imp is talented!

 

The only thing to do is make friends with your Imp.  If you do that, acknowledge his special abilities, praise him when he pulls of a particularly spectacular stunt, he MAY return your lost property if you ask him very, very nicely.  Perhaps!