OK. In November I put £20 into an on-line betting account at Betfair.com. I still have about £20 in there, having withdrawn a total of £75. So yes, I can predict certain future events given a bit of background info.
Gut feelings. 1997 World Cup qualifier, Poland v England. I'm in a pub in York (The Northern Wall, for those who know the city). England are 1-0 up and get a penalty. Shearer puts the ball on the spot and suddenly I just get this feeling. Amid the hush I tell my mate he's going to miss. And he does. This doesn't make me popular with some of the natives, but England win anyway so who cares. Had a similar feeling when Neil Harris lined up a spot-kick for Millwall against West Ham last week, with similar results, but this isn't scientific.
Slightly more sinister. At work we used to get results phoned in by a bloke from a local cycling club. He was a bit mad, and every once in a while his social worker would phone us up to see if he'd been OK while he was talking to us. A couple of weeks went by and we hadn't heard from him. Realising this I said something along the lines of: "Shouldn't someone give him a call and check he's still alive?"
Horribly, later that morning we got a phonecall from one of his friends to say he'd passed away over the weekend.
That was a really nasty feeling.
For all you dream-readers out there, can you decipher Friday night's for me? Somehow I took a cross-channel ferry to Prague (yes, the land-locked one in the Czech Republic), only to be turned back because I didn't have a passport. Only I had taken my passport but it was destroyed when the change in air-pressure (a regular feature of sea travel, especially when there's no sea, I guess) had caused a bottle of cherry coke in my bag to burst, ruining my paperwork. And then I met the thwarted love of my (real) life at the ferry terminal in Dover-on-the-Moldau and woke up. No mind-altering substances were involved, and I'm a bit embarassed about going to bed with one girl then dreaming about another