“Don’t knock it until you try it” said Garry, my friend in the UK. He had just walked into my office in South Kensington, London, and was extremely excited. He’d been to visit his psychic at the London College of Psychics and had made his way directly to my office to let me know what she’d told him. Up until that day, I never even knew he went to see this lady, but apparently, after a brief explanation, he revealed to me that he was seeing her once a month and had been for the previous 6 years. My initial reaction was to burst into laughter and I remember distinctly telling him to his face, and I quote, “You are one mad crazy fucker. I can’t believe that YOU of all people actually think what she is telling you is true and not some made up BS.” He looked at me straight in the face and said, “Have you ever been to see a psychic?”
He was right, I had never experienced anything like that, nor had I any inclination to do so. In my opinion it was all made up nonsense, and without another thought and with the blonk of an eye, I told him,”You are right Garry, set me up, I’ll try it!”
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, my belief is that if a psychic is that good, then why are they not all millionaires? They should be able to predict the stock market, the Lotto, the next time a rich client will walk into their office and who will win the 3:30pm race at Santa Anita, all in the same day! So, with all their powers, why do they need to worry about seeing people like you and me? Garry was adamant. “Please just try it?” He was begging now. So, off we went to lunch, where he told me all the news from his current reading, most of which I thought was total crap, but ALL of which he completely believed and was obviously hanging his entire future earnings on. Poor Garry! I’ll say one thing for him though, he inspired me to try it and then to judge. Off I went in search of a psychic, and one that didn’t know me from Adam. That was my criteria. If seeing was believing, then I didn’t want to know the psychic and I didn’t want the psychic to know me. It was important for me to go into a session completely neutral, knowing that whatever was said was either crap or accurate but never influenced from knowledge of who I was and who my friends and family were. I scoured the country, prepared to go any place in the UK that made sense, as long as the psychic taking my reading was impartial. I interviewed all my friends, asking each and every one of them if they’d ever had the opportunity to sit in front of a psychic, and eventually, Tracy, a lady who I’d been doing business with, came to the rescue and suggested a woman who lived in the countryside about 1 hour north-west of London. Bingo! Tracy told me that this lady was very normal, and I use that word with the best possible intent, and that she would be the right place for me to start. I asked her how often she’d been to see this particular psychic, and she told me only once and many years before.
After plucking up the courage to call, I had made a plan. I would tell the woman I wanted to see her, give her a false name and when I got there, I would be completely non-committal to everything she would tell me so as not to give away anything that might possibly be accurate and or hit a nerve. I was all set. I made the call, made the appointment and then one week later I made the drive into the English countryside to see what the future had in store for me.
Her house was set in very nice suburb deep in the county of Oxfordshire. It was a large Tudor style home, which surprised me greatly, and was a far cry from the examples of other psychic’s I had imagined and seen in person, lining the beaches and boardwalk of Brighton, Bournmouth and Blackpool, your typical UK holiday resorts. Yes, this was class, and not seedy at all. There was no sign outside, no crystal ball or other fake ornaments in the doorway and best of all, there was a certain feeling of calm and serenity as I ascended the stairwell to ring her doorbell. As I waited at the door and her footsteps grew closer, I started to get a little nervous. If she was who she claimed to be, then wouldn’t she already know that I was not who I claimed to be? This was doing my head in, and just as I decided that I would come clean with her, the door opened and a short, well dressed, articulate middle-aged lady stood in front of me and invited me in. “Here we go” I thought, as she guided me into her spacious living room. There was a cat, a Siamese, strolling around casually, and a grand piano, some gorgeous contemporary furniture, and a huge floor to ceiling mirror to the left of a glowing fireplace. All very nice and normal so far! Having been offered a seat on the couch, she came and sat opposite me on a chair, and the cat joined her after jumping up on her crossed legs. She introduced herself, and the cat, and then without warning, the conversation began. It went exactly like this.
“I am going to record this conversation”, she said, as she placed a cassette tape into the machine. (Remember them?)
“Your mother has eyes problems” This was not a question, but a statement of fact. And my mother DID have eye issues. In fact the day before my mother had complained to me that she couldn’t see a damn thing out of her new glasses. This woman had me hooked from her very first utterance.
“Tell her to go back to the optician and let them know they put the wrong lenses in” she said, while she sat stroking her cat. I remember now, the cat was called Llewellyn !! Funny how things come to you when you least expect them!
“Your father” she continued,”has severe stomach issues. Tell him that he needs to stop drinking alcohol or he will be dead before he is 65.” Geez! Straight to the point, but again, I was floored. My father was told two days before the exact same thing by his own doctor. So, by now I am looking at the walls for hidden cameras, looking into this woman’s eyes for any hint of recognition that she might have of me, and all the while trying to remain calm and non committal, by shaking my head up or down to signal a YES or left to right to say NO, without actually opening my mouth. This was turning out to be nothing like I’d anticipated, and yet, I was still so skeptical, even though her first two claims had been absolutely dead on. She sat for the next 45 minutes, on her couch, continually stroking her cat, and when it was all over, yes, there had been some truths, very serious and accurate truths, but were they just great guess-work or compelling and almost impossible facts? I was so undecided, that I decided to do it again! I was driving home, with the cassette tape playing in the car, re writing all of her conversation in my mind, and trust me, it was only her who had spoken, all I did was nod, when Garry’s words entered my mind again and again. “Don’t knock it until you try it” Well I’d done it once, and the beauty was, no one knew I’d gone there, so why not find another person and do it again? If psychic’s were really who they claimed to be, wouldn’t the second reading be the same as the first? The more I played her tape, the more I began to put two and two together and the more sense a lot of her comments made. There was a certain clarity in some of the facts that at first, seemed unbelievably wild. Now, upon second listen, perhaps they weren’t so stupid after all. I was intrigued and captivated by, not only the effectiveness of the manner in which she’d conducted the meeting, but also her temperament, which hadn’t changed from the moment I’d walked in the door until I’d left. I was under the distinct impression that she had no clue what she was saying, and just rambled on as if she was talking to no one in particular. Her summation of my love life at the time was excellent. I recall that she described it as ‘turbulent’ and that, to say the least, was an understatement! Of course, she could have summed that theory up about 95% of the UK population, but when she mentioned the name Debbie, and the context in which it was brought into the conversation, I nearly fell off my seat and had a hard time remaining nonplus. I’d done the impossible. Walked in and out without revealing who I was, how many sisters I had, how many times I’d been married, what my health was like, and most importantly, I gave absolutely nothing away when she had commented or made insinuating conversation about anything on the periphery of my life. I was chuffed to bits! (Remember, if you don’t know a word or phrase, Google it!)
What to do next? Call Garry? Call home? Call another psychic? How about call time on this escapade for now? So I did. I went into psychic hibernation for the next 6 months until my next opportunity arose, quite by chance.
To be continued, unless you’re a psychic, then you’ll know how it ends!!