So today, I'm happily wandering around Carnaby Street taking street shots of 'cool' people for inspiration and design details. Then lo and behold, an Irish man with a dog, a fag in his hand, a well scruffy beard and some tarot cards starts speaking really fast at my friend and I, telling us to take 3 cards then tap his hand, then tap Becci's hand so she can tap his hand and then tap my hand so we keep MY apparent (from the cards) 2 years of good luck between us 3. I also received a card that said I would make a lot of money in my life time, mainly in the next 2 years but starting in 9 months time. Conveniently, Becci also receives a card that says she'll get a lot of money in the next 9 months. He then obviously asks for a donation and we say "no".
Definitely cursed.
I however, told Becci not to worry because I'm a) Irish blooded and b) I'm going to Ireland next week so I'll sort it out. Perhaps find a leprechaun (I did in fact walk past a real life leprechaun one day by Regent's Canal so it's most certainly doable)...
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