15/08/2026
The Accidental Water Diviner (And Why I Stopped Taking Requests)
Long before I married my husband, I found myself invited to his family's Christmas lunch.
I was already a bit of an oddity to them: I was a practicing psychic, and I happened to be nineteen years older than him
Naturally, I gravitated toward the family grannies—they are infinitely less judgmental and much better company than everyone else.
While I was deep in a pleasant chat, I overheard the host’s parents complaining about the abysmal luck they were having trying to drill for water on their farm.
Without really thinking, I piped up and suggested they drill near the "V" in the main road rather than messing about on the boundaries.
Instantly, you could have heard a pin drop. The silence was deafening, mostly because I had never actually set foot on their farm in my life.
Three months later, a mystery box of mangoes arrived via my sister-in-law. There was no note, no explanation, and certainly no "thank you."
That explanation didn't arrive until three years later, when a severe drought hit, the family panic-dialed, and I was officially summoned to find water. (For context, these folks are major commercial farmers who supply late-season mangoes to boutique outlets, so high stakes were definitely in play.)
True to form, I don't charge for this sort of thing, which apparently means you get paid in farm produce and sheer terror.
The expedition itself was a romantic masterpiece.
I walked the entire farm swinging a pendulum, while my then-boyfriend had to march in front of me beating the ground with a large branch just in case I accidentally stood on a puffadder.
By the end of the day, my feet looked like raw pork chops from getting thoroughly scorched in the sun.
Eventually, I marked two spots with stones:
Spot 1: The water was closer to the surface, but it didn't feel particularly strong.
Spot 2: It felt overwhelmingly strong, but it was going to be very deep.
Naturally, the professional drilling crew was deeply offended by a psychic amateur telling them where to drop their heavy machinery.
The driller was outright derogatory, sneering that he never drills down that deep.
I politely informed him that while I wasn't a professional, he really needed to go to the exact depth I indicated.
Long story short? The well wall collapsed in the final 1.5 meters, revealing the single biggest cache of water found in the entire district.
While it was a massive triumph, it was also deeply, profoundly stressful, mostly because drilling for water costs a small fortune and I didn't fancy accidentally bankrupting the extended in-laws.
After that little miracle, I was hounded from pillar to post to divine water for every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the area.
Suffice to say, I officially retired my pendulum. I only ever did it for family—and frankly, the mangoes barely covered the sunburn, but hey i love mangoes.
