I present, for the record, my approach to tarot before it is any further sullied by official magic. It’s called ‘Terrible Tarot’ and is entirely of my own invention. So there.
When I was 12 and trudging home from school one Friday springtime afternoon, I happened upon a fledgling bird cheeping in the gutter. This is the story of that bird.
When I turned nine I was finally allowed to go to the park with just a fellow kid for company, instead of an adult chaperone.
Then – a momentous day! The leaky hosepipe was unravelled and the pond filled with water. This took a full day and a night, and – I’m sure – infuriated any hosepipe-ban-conscious neighbours.
I’m attending an NLP Life Training course – the Secrets of Hypnosis with Dr Richard Bandler and Paul McKenna – tomorrow.
I was sat in a boardroom with 10 global CEOs when I began to comprehend the power of pens, pencils and other writing paraphernalia.
There was no such thing as a different perspective. You were either right – or you were seeing red.
He didn’t waste a second getting stuck into the DIY. The most pressing task was disconnecting the downstairs hot water.
I knew magic was real because, when I was seven years old, I received incontrovertible proof that the Easter Bunny existed.