CLIVE SMITH: Getting in touch with the dead! What guff

Would you go to a caf to get in touch with a dead relative?
Would you go to a caf to get in touch with a dead relative?
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A lot of themed cafés have opened in recent years – cat cafés, cereal cafés, crisp sandwich cafés. Another has just opened at Havant, a psychic cafe. Got to say, I didn’t see that one coming...

It’s been started by medium Tim Robbins. Good luck to him, new start-ups should be encouraged.

Nevertheless, more fool the people who are taken in by all this guff.

Apparently ‘people can take something away from this cafe that other cafés can’t offer – their mum and dad, their nan or grandad’.

Come on, dead people don’t talk to living people. they never have and never will.

I even read something about dead pets getting back in contact.

Get a grip! ‘Oh, I hear meowing… or maybe it’s barking; Anyone lost a pet recently?’

I’m sure if someone wanted to contact me from beyond the grave they would have done so by now.

And they would definitely have found a better way of doing it than through some stranger while I’m sitting in a café having an Americano and a Danish pastry. It’s absolutely ludicrous.

It’s been going on for donkeys' years though, from old hags in a tent at the carnival to readings on the internet – Psychic Sally giving you a personal reading all the way from Lagos, Nigeria.

You might as well buy yourself some tea leaves, swill them about at the bottom of your tea cup and predict yourself a lottery win. Or tell yourself late aunt Doreen forgives you for wrecking her 80th birthday celebrations after one too many pinot noirs.

It’s nothing more than a trick and that’s how it should be viewed – a bit of fun that’s all, not some life-altering epiphany.

Back in 1964 a prize of one million dollars was put up for grabs for anyone who could demonstrate so-called supernatural abilities.

It ran until 2015 with more than 1.000 participants.

Guess what? No one won a sausage. Strange that. Wouldn’t it be easier to win the million, retire and have none of the hassle of opening a café and cooking fry-ups?

Blowing in the wind – what  is the point of wind chimes?

Obviously we’ve  been sleeping with the windows wide open to make it feel less like trying to get some shut eye in a furnace. That’s fine, but things have taken an ugly turn in my neighbours’ garden. Wind chimes.

No one wants to hear other people’s wind chimes. Absolutely no one. Is it meant to be some boho life choice for people who drink green tea and don’t vaccinate their kids?

What’s the point of them? Someone explain it because I can’t see anything other than insomnia. The ones next door don’t even sound nice. It’s like an ice cream van coming down the street at 3am. I wake up tired and craving a 99 with flake, chocolate sauce and nuts.​​​​​​​

Claim culture society is to blame for paddling pool ban

Some residents have got the hump with the council after being told they can’t keep paddling pools in communal garden areas. Every council and housing association has these kinds of rules. It’s the same for trampolines or bouncy castles. Paddling pools are popping up everywhere because of the heatwave.

It does seem like an over-reaction. People and kids should be able to have a bit fun without a man in a suit and clipboard coming around ruining things.

These days people are so quick to phone ‘Claims R Us’ when a lamppost looks at them the wrong way or a low branch ruins a hairdo that these things have to be in place to cover themselves.​​​​​​​