I can, however, entirely see the appeal psychics have. We’ve all lost someone we love – it’s part of life, part of the human experience, and it utterly and completely sucks. The idea that there’s something beyond the world we see, that somehow a form of our consciousness survives it and is able to come back through the void to reassure the ones we love is immensely attractive. It’s also, thus far, demonstrably untrue.

When I was growing up, I’d spend every summer at my grandparents’ static caravan in a little wooded caravan site, every year between the ages of 1 and 14 (or so). When I was maybe round about 4 or so I made friends with a kid there, and every year we’d spend the whole summer at each others’ side – he was the first person I’d go call for when I woke up in the morning, and other than mealtimes I’d be with him until I went to sleep, for 6 weeks every year, for maybe 14 years. We were as close as brothers. His name, too, was Michael, and though I’d only see him a few weeks of the year, for those weeks we were like family.

Still, kids grow up, and the appeal of a tin-pot caravan in the middle of small wood in County Durham soon wears off for a teenager, and I stopped heading to the caravan site every year, and in doing so I lost touch with Michael.

When I was 20, I learned Michael had taken an overdose, and had died. Understandably, I was knocked sidewards when I found out. To this day it still hurts that my best friend isn’t around any more, and that I’ll never see him again.

I got to thinking of Michael the other day, and how we were when we were growing up. I remembered one time in particular when – disaster! – I’d run out of cereal. I was a dramatic sod of a kid at the best of times, and early morning with nothing sugary to put in my bowl of milk is most certainly not the best of times. The small caravan site shop was pretty limited, and offered no solution – but a quick knock on Michael’s door and I was soon tucking in to a bowl of Sugar Puffs (something of a treat at the time, as my parents didn’t believe in buying named-brand cereals). It’s a memory that, for no clear reason, has stuck with me very distinctly.

The other day, I was making a similarly-urgent dash to the shops for cereal, and I found myself hankering for some Sugar Puffs – not one of my regular cereals these days, but I thought ‘Why not?’. Pouring myself a bowlful, I suddenly remembered the time I had it at Michael’s and it made me smile to remember my best mate at the time, and the years spent with him as kids.

I guess my point is: we all have people we’ve lost, and we all yearn to connect with them again. Personally, rather than paying a ‘psychic’ £30 or £40 to invent from whole cloth new memories about someone I loved, I spend a little money on something that brings back genuine memories. Listen to a CD they loved, go somewhere that meant something to them, or even just buy a box of the cereal they used to eat – that’s how we can truly re-connect with the ones we’ve lost.