P is for Psychic

*Dims the lights dramatically and leans forward conspiratorially* I have a secret.  *Lowers voice impressively* I am psychic.  *Leans back and flips the lights up* Ok, I’m not actually psychic, but there have been a few times in my life where I have “just known” a specific thing was going to happen, and it later came to pass.

My earliest memory of this is on holiday as a child at a caravan park, so I must have been under 8 years of age.  I entered a Treasure Hunt competition, where you had to mark the spot on a desert island map where you thought the treasure was buried.  I was given a number 8 sticker to mark the map with, and scrutinised the map with the intensity and seriousness that only a child can accord such a minor event.  I decided upon the woods, and as I stuck down my number 8 I knew, just *knew* that I’d won.  My prize was an enormous colouring book that was almost bigger than me.

Now you could argue that some I subconsciously registered some twitch in the staff member’s face as I applied my sticker.  So far as I recall I was so intent on making sure not even a nuclear blast could detach the sticker that I was blind to everything else, but the scientist in me concedes it’s a possibility.

On another occasion however, I purchased a raffle ticket, and as I took hold of the ticket “just knew” I had won.  I chose an alarm clock from the prize table when my number was called.  Now how or why I *knew* is anyone’s guess, since the tickets were randomly drawn at the end of the evening.

For today’s post I thought I would tell you my lottery scratch card story.  Now I’m not usually a scratch card purchasing kinda gal, but whilst standing in a till queue, my gaze happened upon the scratch card display on the counter and I “just knew” that the next card was a winning ticket.  I duly requested a scratch card, and was faintly shocked to receive the response “That’s £5 love, is that alright?”.  I choked back the “How much?  They were a pound in my day!” that rose to my lips, allowed myself a moment to feel tragically old before my time, and purchased the card – it was a winning ticket after all.

Now, I recall feeling oddly calm.  I made it all the way home with the scratch card tucked in my wallet, before I seized my fate and began to scratch off the panels.

What’s that?  Did I win?  Well of course I did.  I won a bloody fiver!!

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4 Responses to P is for Psychic

  1. Cath says:

    This may explain the pictionary night then!

  2. Laughing out loud – love it. The picture’s cool too.
    Psychic Jay could be a sideline for you.

    • Jay says:

      Hehe, it used to happen quite a lot in my teens, but the scratch card incident was the first for years. Unfortunately it has yet to make me my millions 😉

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