I confess to having a bit of a penchant for them.
It all started when I was supposed to interview a clairvoyant for ABC Newcastle. I toddled along cluelessly with my recording equipment and the full intention of coming away with a story but I ended up having a reading wherein I was warned against the dangers of soy milk and told I would buy a renovator’s delight in Windsor, marry a boofy bloke and have a baby girl.
And thus started my addiction to soothsayers.
I have since been to many, many psychics. The last three have agreed on a few points and predicted some things with alarming accuracy.
God knows how they do it but they told me I would move back to Sydney for a really good job (check) and that I would spend the next few years ‘wearing off a bit of shoe leather’ travelling (check). The next part – the part that all three agreed upon – is the most perplexing part. They all said that I would meet the man I am meant to be with a) through work, b) in November 2014, c) and that he would be tall, have dark hair and wear a suit. Also, d) I would get accidentally pregnant to him and we would move overseas.
So essentially I have two months to meet this guy if the prophecy is correct. This is bothersome because I have started giving every tall, dark, suit-wearing guy the hairy eyeball wondering if he is the father of my surprise foetus.
At least we’ll have an answer soon.
I wish I could give up seeing clairvoyants but I know I won’t. They give me hope, cheer me up and give my brain something *positive (if entirely imaginary) to fixate on.
*notwithstanding the clairvoyant who is convinced I have polycystic ovaries.
Have you ever been to a psychic? What did you think?