'Predictions from my virtual psychic reading were baffling and raised awkward issue'

In these uncertain times, more and more of us are finding solace in the nebulous world of psychics, palm readers and astrologers.

According to Google Trends, searches for “birth chart” and “astrology” both hit five-year peaks in 2020, with many in the profession reporting booms in business.

Companies in the astrology sector have seen a growth of 10-30% last year, with the “psychic services” industry - which includes services like fortune telling and tarot reading - worth a whopping £1.46 billion.

Like most in the industry, Cardiff-based psychic medium Leigh-Catherine Salway has been forced to use online-based platforms to deliver her services - but says she has seen so much interest this year, she won’t go back to face-to-face readings.

Psychic medium Leigh-Catherine Salway (Richard Swingler/Wales Online WS)

Leigh-Catherine, 50, gave our features writer Laura Connor a reading via a WhatsApp video call.

Here's what happened...

Leigh-Catherine starts by asking what I would like to explore today - perhaps communicating with the afterlife, or looking into my future?

I say I thankfully haven’t suffered much bereavement, but I was upset when my Grandma Marjorie died ten years ago.

“Your Grandma is there, in the room,” she says suddenly.

“I can see blinds, maybe some curtains.”

“Well, I am looking out of the window,” I offer.

“That’s it,” Leigh-Catherine injects.

“She is the light coming through the window.”

I am not entirely comfortable with the idea of my dead Grandma watching my every movement, so I try to change the conversation - but Leigh-Catherine is on a roll.

“She had bad knees,” she tells me, as I nod away, remembering her arthritis - not entirely uncommon for an elderly woman.

“And she was a pillar of the community.”

While it’s true everyone did seem to know my Grandma on the Number 33 bus to Oldham Asda, where she’d be greeted by a chorus of “Morning Marjorie!”, I am not sure she quite held that esteemed title.

Still unnerved by the vision of Marjorie in the room, I move swiftly on and decide to bring up some general existential anxieties that seem to threaten most 30-something women.  

“So, what does the future hold for me?” I ask.

“Marriage, mortgage, babies?”

“You will meet someone,” Leigh-Catherine instantly re-assures me.

“Oh, well I do have a boyfriend,” I reply.

“Yes,” she hesitates for a moment.

“Your boyfriend is lovely.”

I nod.

“But he’s not the one for you.”

I must look crestfallen because she then starts to list my Future One’s numerous physical attributes.

“You will meet a man with long eyelashes and blue eyes,” she says.

“He will be tall - 6”2 or 6”3 maybe. And you’ll meet in normal life, like in a bar or a pub, not on these dating apps.

“And he’s really funny. You love a funny man.”

I am momentarily distracted by the thought of being back in a pub - then think: Yes, I Do love funny men. Just like 99% of the heterosexual female population.

Keen to hear more about this long-eyelashed Adonis, I ask for more details.

“He has got olive skin, like a Mediterranean skin tone,” she continues.

“And he isn’t your usual type at all. Although he is funny, like I said.”

She ponders this for a moment.

“He’s a bit like Billy Connolly.”

While Billy is no doubt lovely, the 78-year-old stand-up certainly isn’t my usual type.

Maybe Leigh-Catherine is onto something after all.

“And this is the man you will buy a house and have children with,” she adds.

This seems to be quite a sudden courtship, so I ask for time frames.

I need to know when to break up with my boyfriend to make way for the Mediterranean hunk.

Funnyman Billy Connolly (Getty)

“Oh, you’ll be like 32 by the time you start settling down, getting a house and having kids,” she says.

Considering I turn 32 in just six months, I start to worry about how I’m going to fit all this in - first we will have to get out of lockdown and be back in the pub, I’ll have to break up with my boyfriend and then start pro-creating with this new man.

And then I start to blush as I see a shard of light shine through the window, remembering my Grandma is listening to all this.

But Leigh-Catherine is unperturbed by the small logistical inconvenience of a global pandemic.

She’s now whipped out her fortune cards, disconcertingly showing me a card of a snake.

“I can see Dubai, something to do with Dubai” she says.

“I have never been to Dubai. I don’t even know anyone in Dubai,” I say.

But she also already moved swiftly on, shuffling her cards as I wonder if she has envisioned my future career as a bikini-clad influencer. I suppose Dubai is the one of the only places in the world right now where I can visit a bar and meet my future husband.

Leigh-Catherine was told by other mediums she had an ability (Richard Swingler/Wales Online WS)

Now there’s a picture of a circle on my phone screen, followed by a lasso, which means I am going to have a row with a friend.

“At a hen party, or something like that,” Leigh-Catherine adds, once again making shrewd predictions about the social life of a millennial woman.

I leave the WhatsApp call feeling confused and a bit deflated, as if I have had a particularly bad therapy session.

Oh well, 2021 is looking up, I think - we’ll definitely all be back in the pub soon and I have a hen party to look forward to. I should probably let Boris Johnson know that his roadmap's on track.