I had my fortune told by Mme Zsa Zsa at the Big on Bloor Festival. I asked three questions: When will I die? Will I always be poor? And will I be remembered.
The responses: I’ll be relatively healthy until I’m in my ’80s when I will die suddenly.”You’re not poor now, Madge”. And, “who cares if you’re remembered? You’ll be dead anyway.”
Now that I know what the future holds in store, I can spend less time anxiously fretting over my levels of fame and fortune. These predictions have brought me a lot of peace. There is comfort in knowing that one will not suffer a long, drawn out demise, a middle-class existence is better than abject poverty and that posterity is maybe not the most important thing in the world.