Roz

We parked the car and walked through the winding streets of Bath, peering in caf? windows, looking for signs of busyness – our unwitting psychic subjects. At last, we found a caf? with people clustered around circular tables. We positioned ourselves in a corner and ordered breakfast with large coffees.

At the table directly in front of us, there was a woman with tousled blonde hair. I focused six inches above her head, held my gaze steady and tried to see her aura. Nothing. I looked across the room at a man in the corner, reading a newspaper. Again, I tried to see his aura and again, I saw nothing at all. I had lost the ability to see.

‘I can’t do it, I can’t see anything.’