Intrepidly I entered. She beckoned me in, held both my palms.
“These are very creative hands” was the first thing a fortune teller said to me.
Well, before that she told me that recording was not allowed: it was bad luck, so was inviting people to sit in on the reading. Everyone will tell you that, she said. This was all news to me.
I then had to make a wish holding a crystal ball. I did. It’s already come true.
So, creative hands then. A good start. She went on.
“You’ve had rough times. But the next twelve months will be better.
“You’ve got a good health line – there are no signs of dementia. But I do see sugar in your palm – let me ask, do you have a history of diabetes in your family?”
I do. But she suggested it could be in my future, too.
“You’re stubborn… and you can be a bit pig-headed, can’t you… and you’ve made a few wrong decisions in the past, haven’t you?”
My marriage line is strong and healthy, apparently. I will only be married once, and she could see two children.
She saw a birth, a death and a marriage in the next year. The death will be someone over seventy, and it will not be a surprise. She then told me she saw a glass and bottle, and asked if there was someone I could think of who had a drink problem. I could. She said to be careful, it’s not yet a problem but could be.
“You have a very strong life line: you will live to a good age. You won’t be a burden.
“You’re going through changes in work, aren’t you? It will be better, don’t worry.
“There’s someone around you who you worry about? Things will get easier.
“And is there someone close to you who you think is a bit two-faced too… Be wary of them.
“Are you considering moving? It won’t be forced, you will make the right decision.”
She ended the reading by wish me health and happiness, and invited me back in twelve months to let her know how I’d got on, and maybe have my tarots read.
I gave her £10 and left.
Interesting and informative. But will you write about this one more?
[...] A year and a week after the first trip, it was back to the seaside town that they forgot to shut down, where every day is like sunday. Morecambe always held a special place in his heart, for no real reason other than nostalgia and his childhood – but since August 2009, it also meant this. [...]