Last week, my daughter visited a fairly prestigious medium. She wanted some answers, and she also wanted to hear from her father.
I know, I know. It’s not an especially wise thing to do, and I wouldn’t do it myself, but I have to confess to being quite excited to think that she might hear from my late husband (a close friend of hers had visited the same man about her sister, who’d died of cancer, and she was much comforted by what he said).
Anyway, the meeting was not a success. Part of it went a bit like this:
Medium: I think your mum is very anxious about Christmas, and where she’s going to go.
Medium: I’m getting a William - he’s a William - or perhaps a Bill? Does that mean anything to you?
Medium: there’s a Sanders, or possibly Sanderson. Did you know anyone with that name?
Medium: when you were a child, did your father bring you back a teddy, or perhaps a doll?
This man aso told her that she and I were going to “cross swords” within the next fortnight. Well, we have never, ever had a row (well, not since the one occasion when she played knock and run in the village where we lived, and that was a very very long time ago.
We’ve got a week to go before that fortnight is up, and we’re watching what we say very carefully.
(Btw, her father sent his love, but didn’t want to talk to us. Make of that what you will!)