Throwing spilled salt over your left shoulder wards off the devil

Emily: [knocks over the salt cellar while making tea] Oh no! Quick, pass me a pinch—got to throw it over my left shoulder before the devil sneaks in.

James: [raises an eyebrow] Wait, what are you doing?

Emily: You know, the old saying. Spilled salt invites the devil, but if you toss some over your left shoulder, you blind him and he scarpers off.

James: [laughs] Blind the devil? With a couple of grains of Tesco’s finest table salt? Come on, Em, that’s not exactly top-tier demon defense.

Emily: Don’t mock it! My nan swore by it. She said if you didn’t do it, you’d have bad luck all day.

James: Right, and did your nan also believe in black cats crossing your path?

Emily: Obviously. It’s all connected. Look, I’d rather lob some salt about than risk a streak of bad luck.

James: [smiling] But think about it—if salt really warded off evil, we’d just carry around salt shakers like holy water bottles. And why only the left shoulder? What’s the devil got against the right one?

Emily: Tradition, isn’t it? Left side’s supposed to be unlucky. Plus, isn’t it a small price to pay for peace of mind?

James: Fair point, but logically, the only bad thing about spilling salt is the mess and the waste. It’s not like Satan’s lurking behind your kitchen chair waiting for seasoning.

Emily: Easy for you to say. Last time I forgot to throw salt, my car broke down the next morning.

James: Or maybe your old Fiesta was just due for a service? Mechanics don’t exactly take salt rituals into account.

Emily: [laughs] True, but still—don’t you ever feel like these little rituals connect you to the past? My nan, her mum before her… generations keeping the tradition alive.

James: That I get. Traditions are comforting. Like a cultural inside joke passed down. But I’d rather keep the tradition without the fear. Salt’s for chips, not exorcisms.

Emily: [grinning] Well, you laugh now, but when the devil comes knocking, don’t come crying to me.

James: Fine. But if the devil shows up in your kitchen, I’m going to offer him a packet of crisps instead. Much less messy.

Emily: [laughs] You’re impossible.

James: And you’re salty. Literally.