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Opinion: This time of year is seeped in superstition, so I indulged myself by visiting a psychic

I’m not too sure why I went. But I like to think of myself as cynically superstitious; my heart can spot the signs, my head dismisses them.

Michelle McBride Freelance journalist

IT’S THAT TIME of year again. Local teenagers are syphoning whatever flammable objects they can get their hands on in preparation for the battle of the bonfires. Kids and adults alike are putting the final touches to their fancy dress costumes in an effort to trick those ghastly ghouls. People are avoiding black cats who attempt to cross their paths and I, for one, am holding out for the ring in the colcannon.

Halloween is full of traditions steeped in superstition. This year I decided to indulge my superstitious side and pay a visit to a psychic. I’m not too sure why I went. Perhaps I was seeking some direction. Some objective guidance. Or maybe it’s just because I didn’t get invited to a fancy dress party this year and needed to seek an alternative treat.

But I like to think of myself as cynically superstitious; my heart can spot the signs, my head dismisses them.


The first thing I noticed on the psychic’s kitchen table while I waited to be “seen” was a box of Black Magic. The chocolates – not a box with Voodoo dolls and a candle. I couldn’t help but laugh. My psychic clearly had a sense of humour.

My palms were sweating. I was nervous, despite my cynicism. Was it because I feared she’d pull the death card (although I’m sure in the Tarot world that’s a good sign)? Or was it something worse than that?

Was I afraid she’d predict nothing of any interest whatsoever? Imagine seeing into your future and seeing beige. What would I do if she told me I was going to be unhappy? Bored? That my life would be uneventful? I guess if my head wins the argument it’s OK because I don’t believe her anyway… right?


You know it’s going to come up. It’s part of the holy trinity of psychic reading topics. Love. Money. Health.

Love is the money card. And not just for single people. I know those of the coupled variety who have sought the advice of a psychic whilst in a relationship. It seems that psychics have the power to maintain, as well as predict the onset of, love.

Anyway, apparently I have met HIM. And he’s great. We’ll be married in a year, too. Which is exciting I guess, seeing as I don’t know who HE is. So if you’re out there you better get a move on – we have a wedding to plan.


Well, if I was surprised by my upcoming nuptials I was sufficiently disappointed by the predictions for my financial success. I have money coming to me. But don’t get too excited, it’s just a few quid that someone owes me. Not even enough for a shopping spree.

I don’t know how I’m going to pay for the wedding.


This is where things get tricky. She didn’t have much to say about mine. She did, however, mention someone in my family. This is where my heart wins out.

Perhaps she knows this is where she seals the deal. I might dismiss my upcoming wedding and house on a hill with a wave of a hand… but a relative’s health? I take to heart. I wonder – why would she say it if it wasn’t true? Is this why I came here, so I could intervene?

I passed on the news to a family member.

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They quickly dismissed it.

Devils’ in the detail

Any psychic worth their salt will be sure to pad out the aforementioned trilogy with some malleable detail. Non-committal of course. She asked if I had a good singing voice. I told her it depended on the song. She took that as the clue and ran with it. She proceeded to tell me I would be on stage. A musical perhaps.

I failed to mention to her that I had once cleared a Karaoke restaurant in Thailand.

I didn’t dismiss the idea of the musical and people looking up at me in stage as she suggested. I quite liked the idea. The following day, however, the penny dropped and my heart sank. In the middle of a Halloween-themed song with my class I realised they were the audience she was referring to.

So, do I believe?

When it comes to psychics, I fall in the non-committal agnostic camp. I’m not dismissing it entirely, although I would be more surprised if what she predicted actually came true.

I have put my dreams of a career on the Westend on hold for the foreseeable future. And I do wish she had given me the heads up about my faulty fog lamps before I brought my car for its NCT.

Michelle McBride tweets at @MichelleBride and blogs at MissUnderstood Teacher.

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About the author:

Michelle McBride  / Freelance journalist

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