It started with a story of my grandad who would use a pocket knife up his sleeve to steal cuttings from a garden centre. Naughty but clever. I thought he was a magician because he hid things up his sleeve. After recounting that story I now know how my mum became a magician.
My dad taught me how to cut a deck of cards with one hand and told us how they used to gamble illegally when he worked in the dessert. I gambled ‘illegally’ in school with cards, marbles and lunchboxes.
My mums friend taught me how to play cards and riffle shuffle. God rest her soul because he gave her vodka. She gave me my first job that bought my first deck of new playing cards.
From then my mum a master crafter gave me a doorway to a world hidden by books with no barcodes. Even she didn’t know what she was buying but gladly Malcolm did.
Malcolm owned the magic shop. None more said. I’ve spent time in that shop and time outside it performing for anyone who dares to stop.
I met friends who had the same spirit. Lost friends with greater spririt and sought people who could show me wonder was real.
Now I make wonder real for people of all ages. Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes it’s wonderful. One thing is for certain you’ll remember that feeling forever. And the memories are priceless.