Three weeks to go....

...I can't really believe that it's just three weeks until I get to marry Mr Jones, there was a time about six years ago that I thought it would never happen.

My first job was for a complementary health magazine - we featured all sorts of weird and wonderful things and in that first summer I found myself on the hot, fetid tube to Earls Court of all places. I was going to see a woman, who for her sins, became known as the spherical psychic.

Her flat was opposite Olympia, the sun was shining outside and as I knocked on her front door I was imagining that it would be opened by a Morticia Adams type - or failing that someone Hepisbar-ish like the character in Carrie's war - with wispy white hair and a jolly smile. But no, when the door finally opened there appeared a woman who's girth was matched in proportion only by her height. She looked like the magician from King Rolo. She was indeed spherical and just slightly odd.

She looked disgruntled at my presence, as if our pre-arranged meeting came as a shock (surely if you're a psychic nothing is a shock?). To hide my embarrassment I asked to use the loo. Now, to say I like things to be clean is possibly an understatement, but I fear that her bathroom hadn't seen "clean" for some years. I washed my hands and tried not to touch anything.

The rest of her flat wasn't much better. I was ushered into her sitting room, where she busied herself finding a space for me to sit. No mean feat, given that every surface was covered in knick knacks, bizarre figurines and the obligatory moons and stars. Everything was shrouded in a layer of that thick dust that you only find in London - dead skin, pollution and general city grime. I perched on the offered chair and handed over my palm.

For the next two hours I was given an insight into my past and future. Apparenlty I hold a lot of resentment for my mother (it hasn't yet appeared), I will have four children - the second of which will be sickly. I will have two career paths - the second won't be as successful as the first. I have healing hands and at some point in the future I will go on a pilgrimage to India where I will learn how to use them and possibly develop a penchant for wearing jewel coloured kaftans.

Of course the part of my palm I was most concerned to hear about was my love line. Mine starts with two lines, which apparently means that I would have two great loves - the first would last roughly two years and was the relationship I was in right now (Mr Jones), the second would be the man that I would marry and go on to have four children with. I listened in stunned silence, my 23 year old self starting to panic that I was soon going to wind up alone and single in the wilds of London in a matter of weeks - Mr Jones and I had been together just over two years!

Eventually she released me and my palms into the 'fresh' London air. I started to cry and I called Mr Jones to relay the news of the imminent demise of our relationship.

A brief note on Mr Jones: Unlike me he is incredibly rational, he takes everything at face value, he doesn't do "spiritual", he also doesn't like crying - especially if I'm the one doing it - it tries his patience.

So when I called him, sobbing by now, and told him where I'd been and what had been discussed, he calmly explained that there was no such thing as a psychic, that the fat old woman knew nothing whatsoever about our relationship, that he loved me and that he had no intention of going anywhere - and as if to drive the point home he told me - in no uncertain terms - that he would never have four children.

The spherical psychic had told me at the beginning of my palm reading - as a kind of disclaimer - that the times given in her reading could be "give or take a few years". So once Mr Jones and I made it to our three year anniversary I re-evaluated her reading - thus:

The relationship before Mr Jones - lasted two, very boring years. I thought I loved him, with hindsight, I'm not sure I did - but for the purpose of spiritual accuracy I choose him as my first "great" love. That means that Mr Jones is my very great love number two, the man I'm going to marry and have four children with - hurrah.

Mr Jones is still yet to be convinced on the four children. I am still waiting to start hating my mother and I have no current plans to change career or visit India - only time will tell if psychics do really exist and if your future can really be told by the lines on your palm. I'll keep you posted.