I paid a psychic £130 to try and communicate with my dead mother... this is what happened

Daily Mail​

07-06-2025

I don't know what I was expecting… but to be left crying and filled with regret at how much I'd paid wasn't it.
A few weeks earlier, I decided to book an appointment to have a one-hour tarot card reading with a woman who describes herself as a psychic and medium.
A friend had recently tried it and said how uplifting it was, and a year earlier I'd watched a woman on TikTok discuss her 'eerily accurate' reading.
It just so happened they both went to the same place in London - I took it as a sign.
Around 40 minutes before my appointment, the psychic - who I shall called Harriet - calls me to apologise that she's running late as there is an issue with the Tubes.
Cue my friend's 'she didn't see that coming' text…
Alas, another reason I'd wanted to give this a go was down to Michael McIntyre.
In his autobiography, the comedian tells how on a whim his then-19-year-old mother goes to a tarot card reading with a psychic who tells her she's pregnant, it will be a son and he will be 'word-famous'.
When we finally start, Harriet tells me how honoured she is to be giving me my first reading. Gentle music plays in the background and the room is full of crystals.
'The spirit brings me the right person at the right time.'
Harriet assures me she won't deliver 'scary' or ominous news but that 'every message that comes through is what you need to hear' although 'sometimes not what you want to hear.'
'I see you looking out a bus window, wistfully,' she begins.
Harriet wasn't kidding about it not always being what you want to hear.
'Most people come in when they are at a crossroads in their life. But you feel like you've got it. You've got an underlying sense of what is going to change and what's coming in. We need some reassurance.'
Harriet begins with my career.
'I just get changes,' she says. 'But sometimes not in the way you want - and not in a good way.'
Hang on, Harriet. I thought you weren't meant to deliver bad news…
'There's a feeling of 'I need to change'. Maybe relocation.'
Hmm, I ponder, I am quite happy in London and have no desire to move from my lovely flat. So where did she have in mind? A cottage in the countryside? A villa in the sunnier climes of Portugal?
'Manchester,' Harriet signals her spirit guide is telling her.
Oh. I've never thought twice about that part of the country. I am from the south originally, so Manchester seems quite a rogue choice but you never know in the distant future…
'Two months. End of August,' Harriet confirms.
Crikey. I'm locked into a contract on my flat until next year so that could be problematic.
'You're about to jump on that train,' she continues.
Note, I have upgraded from a bus.
'I feel like it's the same field, same kind of work but it's just broader. More of a place you can get to the top, that you can spread your wings and develop.'
Ok, well this sounds more promising.
'It feels like you have a bit of a coach around you,' Harriet continues as she 'tunes in with my energy and her team of spirits'.
'This spirit pushing you and giving you all these wonderful words: 'that's the name of the game', 'we're going to go for it'. It feels like they've been with you for quite a while. It feels like a female spirit that's around you. Do you feel like that.'
Er.. no I don't.
'Sometimes you might be given a message that this isn't the right time and you have to wait six months or so. But opportunities are coming sooner rather than later.'
So what are the spirit guides telling Harriet my next career move could be?
'Behind the scenes, I see scripts,' she says.
'Have you ever worked in the theatrical arts? I'm seeing theatre and dialogue. It does feel like it's something unexpected. And colourful, I see a lot of colour around what you're writing. Explosions of colours around it.'
I continue to listen, puzzled, I have never worked in theatre and it's never appealed to me.
'I'm also getting the message keep some mystery and secrecy around what you're doing. You've got some really good ideas that are not quite ready to be revealed.'
I must already be doing such a good job of keeping some mystery, I'm leaving myself in the dark.
'I'm getting your mum,' Harriet then says. A lump forms in my throat.
'Feels like you have support there.'
Now might be the time to confess another reason I found myself sitting in front of the psychic was because of my mum.
She died last year from cancer and I have been bereft without her ever since and desperate to somehow feel close to her again.
'She steadies you,' Harriet says.
'Feels like a steady relationship. You can confide in her. And that will be stabilising.
'She feels like she can be an ally through this process. If nothing else really giving you some encouragement. But also she'll catch you if you fall is what I hear. You don't have a lot to lose by taking a leap of faith here. She's got your back.'
At this point I'm feeling both emotional and awkward. My mum was all of those things, but I can't bring myself to say anything to Harriet.
But then it gets worse…
'I'm seeing your mum again,' she says.
'Have you ever travelled with your mum? Maybe it would be a nice time for you two to go do something nice together, even if it's a long weekend. Because when you're around your mum's energy it does change your reality.'
Ah the real kick in the teeth. I'm too polite to say anything.
Could it get any worse?
Yes.
Harriet pulls out the death card… supposedly it doesn't represent death, but the end of something, it follows the marriage card. Reassuring.
The card showing people being stabbed in the back also makes an appearance, plus the one showing a man barely able to walk and 'left outside in the cold'.
I make a mental note to quiz my friend again who found her reading 'uplifting'.
It dawns on me how foolish I was to think my mum would send a message to me via a random woman in a rented room in London, or how she could actually predict my future.
I message my brother in tears feeling silly.
He swiftly brings me down to earth.
'How much did you pay for that b*******?,' he replies.
'Everything she said is complete chance and guess work. It means nothing.'
He's right.
Sigh, what a waste of £130 - but a lesson learned*.
*Unless in August I am working at a theatre in Manchester after going on holiday with my mum who has returned from the dead…