Off-Topic: Psychics

When it comes to psychics, I'm a sceptic. They're all a bunch of fraudsters who read your mind by guesswork and suggestion. However, I had a strange experience in 2009 which I still can't explain.

At that time I almost never visited my bank. I did everything by online banking. One day I made an exception, because I wanted to deposit some cash. I went to the Small Heath branch of Nationwide. When I walked up to the cash desk, the girl behind the counter said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Hood".

That surprised me, so I replied to the girl, whose name was Ayesha, "Oh, so you remember me? It's been a long time since I was last here".

To which she said, "No, I've never seen you before".

That was weird, but I went on with my business and pulled my wallet out of my pocket. Before I even opened it she asked, "You want to deposit £200?"

"How did you know that?" I asked in return.

Her colleague at the next cash desk laughed and said, "She's psychic. Test her".

That was a challenge I couldn't resist. I asked her my date of birth, and she gave me the correct answer. But then I said, "You probably have that in front of you on your computer screen".

The colleague was leaning over and said, "Yes, she does. Ask something else".

It took me a few moments to think up an impossible question. "Where did I go on my honeymoon?" I thought to myself that there was no way she could possibly guess that I went to Brighton.

Ayesha stared at me for a few seconds, then asked me, "Where's the Black Isle? I don't know it".

That totally freaked me out. I went to Brighton on the honeymoon of my second marriage in 2002. That's the answer I was fishing for, but I went to the Black Isle on the honeymoon of my first marriage in 1982. How could she possibly know that? I wasn't even thinking about the Black Isle when I asked her. Another question I asked myself later was, if she's psychic enough to know I went to the Black Isle, why wasn't she psychic enough to know it's in Scotland?

I went home in a daze. I told my daughter, and she said, "I don't believe you. You're making it up". I was annoyed that she didn't believe me, but then I realised that if she'd told me the same story I wouldn't have believed it either.

I've kept this story secret for the last 10 years. I don't want people to laugh at me or accuse me of lying. Only my daughter knows about it, and if she hasn't forgotten it she must still believe I was lying. Was I hallucinating and imagined it all? Maybe I was. To a sceptic like me, a temporary loss of sanity is a better explanation than a Moslem bank clerk who can read minds.