With her joyous cackle and machine-gun delivery, Sally Morgan doesn’t sound like someone who earns her living by communicating with the departed.
There are no hushed silences, no sepulchral tones and - thank goodness - no messages from my late and cantankerous old granddad or unwarranted advice from the other side from grandma Dolly. Sally doesn’t do messages when she’s off duty.
This is why you won’t see her accosting people in public.
“When people tell me stories about so-called psychics or mediums going up to them randomly in a shop I’m horrified by that, it’s such an intrusion on one’s life,” she says.
She also doesn’t go up to the people who work in her office and regale them with the thoughts of their dead auntie.
Not that she doesn’t get feelings about places or people but: “I do it at such a heightened level at this stage in my life, I like to think I’m in control of this energy, I don’t allow it when I’m not working.”
When she is working she can receive “Two or three messages at a time,” from those on the other side.
“I have what I say are people queuing in my head so I can be talking to someone and something else will be happening,” she says.
“I mention it, I stop what I’m saying to that particular person, tell them to wait, I’m talking to the audience at the same time, so it’s what I do, you hone it like a skill - it’s like a stagecraft you could say.”
Sally says the messages - which she says she has been receiving since she was nine - come to her.
“I don’t call the dead, the dead basically come to me.”
Which naturally leads to me inquiring if she’s heard anything lately from her former client, Princess Diana.
The unkind may wonder whether Sally ever passed on any messages about fast cars in Paris but she wants me to know that “I don’t communicate with anyone for me. People say do you still speak to Diana and I say why would I? I spoke to her when she was alive.”
She hopes her shows are uplifting and always looks forward to the Bournemouth ones: “Who doesn’t love Bournemouth?” she asks.
“Even in winter on the coldest days it just lifts you, doesn’t it?”
She also hopes her compassion comes out in the messages she delivers and tells a story about an audience member for whom she started singing a song about a lollipop.
“This woman nearly collapsed - her grandfather always called her lollipop and sang this song.”
Experiences like this, says Sally, provide ‘validation’ for her audience.
“The evenings are about validation, I get these thoughts in my head; lets validate this message - ‘Where are you Mary, because I’ve got John here,’ every passing is unique.”
Essentially, she says, she deals in loss; of people, places, circumstances.
“I don’t know what I’m picking up on, what am I picking up on?” she says.
“I’m not an academic and I don’t wish to look at my work as an academic because if I did I would lose what I’ve got at the moment.”
But she believes her ability is ‘meant to be used’. “If it wasn’t meant to be used as I use it then I’ve no doubt there would be circumstances that would stop me.”
She likes to feel audiences get a lot of comfort and hope from her shows because: “They keep coming back”.
She’s not wrong there - her shows sell out - and she says the only reason she does them is because she can’t actually devote the time for the personal readings for the hundreds of thousands of people who have requested them from her.
In the past Sally has been accused of cheating - claims she has successfully fought off in court. “I am not a fraud and I have never, ever cheated the public in any way,” she says.
In fact, she is acutely aware of her responsibilities.
“I’m a mouthpiece and a very good one,” she says.
“At the end of the day you’re only as good as your last message and if your last message is accurate then that’s what people are going to remember.”
- Psychic Sally on The Road, May 29 Pavilion Theatre, Bournemouth