About 18 months before I decided to come to Sweden I went to see a Tarot reader. I have always been very interested in the notion of fate ruling our lives and if this thing we call ‘life’ is all predestined, could a 45 year old woman wearing far too much blue eye shadow and an amethyst necklace really see into my future….
Curious about this but also very skeptical I went along with my good friend Brenda one Sunday morning to The Mystic Fair, where a whole host of kooky looking folk had assembled, ready and willing to part with their hard earned cash for future insights and messages from beyond the grave. ‘As seen on TV’ and ‘Psychic to the Stars’ claimed some of the readers signs. They sat behind tables covered in purple velour monogrammed with moons and stars and all it seemed had a penchant for that blue eye shadow. My reader told me that I would take a train from a big city maybe Rome with a guy that spoke English with a strange accent, she thought he maybe came from New Zealand…but couldn’t be sure…maybe there could be romance…and who is it that is pregnant she asked? Whoever it was, would maybe have some minor issue with the pregnancy but I should assure them it would be OK. Finally she could see me studying, I was going to go and learn something, I was surrounded by books she said.
Honestly I thought ‘what a crock of shit!’
The likelihood of someone somewhere in my life being pregnant and having a ‘minor’ problem was not exactly a genius forecast rather more a normal part of life. The whole ‘romantic stud from New Zealand or somewhere’ was all a bit too vague and could easily be interpreted as taking the train home from London one night with a drunk Kiwi slurring in my ear. And finally there was no way in this world I was going to be going back to school. Been there done that, thank you! When I updated PSychic Sue on my CV and suggested that maybe I had been to school and University for enough years already, she was adamant that I was indeed going to have my head in the books in the not too distant future.
As I handed over my 25 quid, I felt sorely ripped off and skepticism turned quickly into the realisation that this whole psychic tarot shebang was no more than old ladies predicting that people would have babies and maybe, just maybe, it would require some sort of medical attention in the process. I don’t really know what it was I was hoping for personally…I did momentarily think that maybe I should try to see what Rita, the lady who reads tea leaves says instead… but… NO! From then on I took the view that we make our own destiny.
Note there was not even a whiff of predictions about me moving to a new country, albeit a cold country with much the same climate as England, but all the same an exciting new life lay ahead….ooooooohhh. No. Nothing.
Fast forward to life in Sweden…and here I am sat at my kitchen table surrounded by cups, glasses, pots and pans…and…um…ohh…books!! Swedish grammar books, concise guides to common Swedish verbs, text books, exercise books and note books full of scribbles from my days at school. SCHOOL!!! Can you believe it? I sure as hell can’t believe it still. I am actually back at school studying. After all that protesting to PSychic Sue about enough schooling, she was right after all it seems.
And of course, now that I come to think about it my sister-in-law did have that small problem with the birth of her son, and it was all OK in the end. And I actually did have the misfortune to meet 2 very drunk Kiwis on the train home from London one night with my good friend Becky (remember that one hon?) But far from being romantic studs, they had mullets straight out of the time when Jason Donavon was still in Neighbours and were deluded into thinking that the train journey was an episode of Jackass, kicking each other, farting and p**sing into used throw away coffee cups. They said they were longing to head home so they could become butchers. Nice.
I am still not totally back on the side of the psychic, I think that they use such ambiguous language that you can end up reading anything into what they say and matching it to your actual life experiences. Ahem!
But, of course, say if, maybe, my Swedish boy (who speaks English with a strange accent doesn’t he?) was to take me off on a romantic little trip to Rome and we happened to take the train on to Florence thus leaving the big city of Rome by train…..maybe, just maybe, I could be won over again…..and get rushing down to Revealing Rita and her tea leaves to see what lays ahead in the Fuuutttuuurrreeee! oooohhhhhh!.