Daisy Waugh

Tarot reading

If I can do it for angry strangers from Wisconsin, I can do it for you

Already a subscriber? Log in

This article is for subscribers only

Subscribe today to get 3 months' delivery of the magazine, as well as online and app access, for only £3.

  • Weekly delivery of the magazine
  • Unlimited access to our website and app
  • Enjoy Spectator newsletters and podcasts
  • Explore our online archive, going back to 1828

The radio show’s a one-off. Normally, I sit in a darkened booth somewhere in Chelsea and wait for punters to walk in off the street. They cross my palm with silver — and oh, the things I’ve heard… which I obviously can’t reveal. Enough of this! America is calling, and I have advice to dispense. It’s a bad line. I can’t work out who’s saying what to whom, or whether we’re even on air. The producers are in Seattle; the two hosts are in California. And I am here in Barnes, SW13, with the future of our nation laid out on my tabletop. All of which makes it hard to concentrate.

Worse, nobody’s phoning in. The Californian hosts drum up a flirt-atious squabble to kill time, involving… storage space? An orange case, perhaps? One of them makes a joke about ‘DOG’ being ‘GOD’ spelled backwards, and for a moment, from Seattle to LA, panic reigns. We all agree that we all love DOGS. And then — thank dog — there’s a caller. Denise? Denis? I can’t hear what s/ he is saying, but s/he wants to know… something about love, I presume. You’d be amazed at the things I can learn from the cards when everything’s going right. Tonight, though, I feel a fraud, more concerned with my referendum findings than with Denis’s lonely nights.

‘Great news, Denis,’ I say. ‘I think you’re going to be very happy.’ Denis has to leave after that. Then it’s just us again, filling space. ‘We’re asking listeners out there to tell us what little things make them happy,’ says one of my hosts for the seventh time. ‘What little things make you happy, Daisy?’ ‘Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,’ I reply. ‘And dogs, obviously.’ ‘Oops, wait up, Daisy! Sorry to interrupt. We have Andrea on the line. Andrea in Wisconsin! Welcome to the show! What little things make you happy, Andrea?’

There is an incredibly long silence. And then: ‘WHAT! ME?’ It would be impossible to exaggerate the rage that is packed into those two short syllables. We have a nutjob. They cut her off. And finally the show is over, and I’m all alone with my referendum results. Will it be in or out? Book in for a reading, my pretties, and I’ll tell you. Forty quid for 30 minutes. I may even throw in some advice on your love life for free…because we all need that.

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in