Secret Tarot and Lenormand Reader

My first tarot read for money :

Work experience as part of an exclusive course in Hampstead Heath, London, England. I went to work in a crystal reading shop opposite the train station. I was nervous as hadn’t ever experienced this type to work. However, when we got comfortable in the cosy basement warm room I knew we were in a place I could be of help for another as the ‘unknown angel’ had been for me.

‘He was in London to assist an international bank get back on the tracks after a series of disasters and some internal problems, he had been called from Canada.

His problem was, his new boss hated him and made no pretence otherwise. He was totally confused as he was known as a nice guy. None of his usual ‘trouble busting - problem solving’ seemed to be working and he resorted to tarot.

As it happened the cards actually did have a solution for him.

“Invite him and his partner home for a meal”.

He sat back and put his hand up saying : “my wife isn’t due to arrive for anther three months as the children’s school delayed her arrival and she was the one who could cook, he was terrible, so terrible he ate out most of the time”. Oh I asked the cards. “Buy ready made stuff from M&S” the cards said.

He had the cards solution, his problem solving hadn’t worked so he gave it a try. A few weeks later I heard, he had employed a catering company and now his boss and partner were his friends at last. His boss had been afraid he had been sent to fire him somehow, which was not the case as they needed them both to work together.

Tarot and Me

After choosing A levels in economics, English Law and English I wondered what to do next. I was already reading ‘tarot’ books.

I completed a secretarial course, Business Education Council Diploma and still didn’t really know what to do. NLP, hypnosis and various psychology therapy courses convinced me I was looking at ‘tarot’ as a language. That was 1974 - 79 all near home in London.

Years later, I was in Inverness, doing a psychology course and the lecturer was talking about something and it looked like the Major Arcana Card “16 Tower”. Sure enough he was about to talk of a behaviour pattern I would have previously switched off from. I was brought up in the Church of England and it formed part of my Superego that prefers ‘NOT’ to deal with some issues.

Over the years I’ve learnt to welcome all issues and refer to the poem “Guest House”Jalaluddin Rumi

My early years

My mum died when I was 12 years old. My youngest sister was 2 and my eldest sister was nearly 16 doing her GCSE’s. We were 8 children altogether, 5 girls and 3 boys.

My mum was 44 years old, went to the bank on Friday 27th December with my little 3 year old brother to get some money for restocking after Christmas and had a heart attack. She died of Arterial thrombosis on the 29th December 1968 in The Brook Hospital, Shooters Hill, London SE18 where by Aunty was a matron sister. We now know she was a really bad candidate for the birth control pill she was taking as she smoked.

As a family we went into a deep depression. Excluding the outside world as my dad became the main carer.

I thought I saw her in a red telephone box, which was strange as we had a black telephone in our light yellow hallway.

The years passed, the family moved on with life except me, I still grieve for her today.

My dad was terrified of us going to Bombay, India, where he met my mum, he thought we would all die there. He was born in Rangoon Burma and went to India with a friend because my mum was known as an amazing maths teacher and he desperately needed her help to get though a maths exam he had one last chance to become an engineer. 

We are all the ‘sum’ of that meeting’ and I tell the story, at the great embarrassment of my young grandson, marrying your maths teacher is ‘well dodgy’ now.  She was even 2 years older than him!

When my dad died I went to Bombay and met my mothers brothers who were like Bruce Forsyth, one was fairer than the other, how I might imagine a tall Italian man to be, from the gangsters movies

They were living relics of the British Rag and typical anglo Indians in their late 80’s very old for the area and very fit.

The fears I had when visiting was imagining my dad turning in his grave and saying : “I told them not to go there”.  I actually prayed :

“Please, let me die anywhere but Bombay” (now called Mumbai) imagining my dads horror.