We’re having a paranormal scarefest here at TheGayUK for October. I love a good fright film and a scary ghost story but am sad to say that I’m not much of a believer in real life. I did however once have a slightly more gullible side…
In my early twenties I met a man at work who was a Romany medium. Well, to be honest he was more an extra large as he was carrying a lot of weight but he claimed he could read palms. My colleagues went in for it with gusto and queued up to have their fortunes told. I was a little more reluctant but eventually decided to have a go. It was free.
He looked a bit weathered and had the voice of a 60 a day man. Holding my palm he came up with the following prediction: “You will leave your job and run a haulage company.”
Now, I like Yorkies as much as the next man but as I can’t drive and have an established career, the a of me ever running a truck firm are pretty low. Maybe he had me mixed up with Hilary Devey from Dragons’ Den.
“You were a wayward teenager but you found salvation in physical activity. Maybe some kind of sport or activity which you did with lots of other young men.”
He was spot on but I’ve never actually heard that called a sporting activity before.
Years later I foolishly decided I would consult a medium. I was dubious but at the time I was more than a little messed up. I was hurtling towards 30, mildly depressed, stuck in a dead end relationship which I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever extricate myself from and desperate to find answers. In retrospect, a good doctor or counsellor and a break up were the answers but hindsight is easy.
I entered her cramped lounge and parted with my £30. She was a wizened little woman with bad skin and a distinct lack of nutrition. There were bumps and crashes coming from the adjoining room. This wasn’t a spirit. It was her husband papering the dining room. She showed me a badly drawn picture of a Native American in a head dress, who of course, was her spirit guide.
She dimmed the lights and started her patter. I tried to relax and keep an open mind.
Medium: “You’re very close to your sister.”
Me: “I don’t have one”
Medium: “Your mum is about to have a problem with her womb in the next year”
Pretty good guess. I was almost thirty meaning I most likely had a menopausal mother with gynaecological issues. As it turned out though, my mum has a very healthy womb to this day.
Medium: “Your car will get broken into in the next year”
I don’t drive or own a car but nice try.
Medium: “You have your grandfather’s watch in the drawer.”
She was spot on. However, upon asking around at work I discovered that the most commonly given gift from a dead grandfather’s estate to his grandson is his watch. 50% of my male colleagues have one. Likewise, bad knees: a large proportion of young men have dodgy knees from sports. I don’t. Do I look sporty? According to her I had or would soon get a bad knee. She was wrong.
She fumbled on for a good half hour and at one point I almost felt slightly sorry for her as I sullenly refuted pronouncement after pronouncement. Then I remembered that I was paying her for this rubbish. My sympathy ebbed away.
The final section went like this:
Medium: “Now, I know you’re gay and I don’t want to offend you but is there a chance you could have fathered a child?”
Me: “Absolutely no chance at all unless it was through sharing a towel.”
Medium: “Oh, it’s just that there’s the spirit of a dead baby hovering by your left shoulder.”
Me: “Could you tell it to do one? It’s not mine”
I know some people swear by psychics and mediums and I don’t mean to devalue their experiences. I’m sure there are good and bad ones like in any profession. Ironically, the medium I saw later went to jail for tax evasion. She failed to see that one coming. However, if psychic phenomena are your thing then I salute you. Whatever brings you comfort is fine by me.
I’ll just leave you with one thought. A well known celebrity medium advertises herself as being a close advisor to Princess Diana. Wasn’t there something she should have warned her about maybe?
Chris is a theatre and book obsessed Midlander who escaped to London. He’s usually to be found slumped in a seat in a darkened auditorium.
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