Last weekend was one such workshop and we were looking at spreads - everything from the value of single card readings right through to a big 36-card spread.
I spend ages writing the hand-outs, packing in as much as I can into the 2 hours with lots of practical excercises for the attendees to experiment with. I even stand in my bedroom and deliver them to the wall so that I can work out my timings so that I manage to get through the entire worksheet. Oh yes, I CAN work quite hard when the mood takes me.
So at the workshop, one lady, who is a regular, is sitting in front of me while I deliver some lines. I pause, allowing the team to start getting their decks organised for the first exercise.
'You know, Hestia,' she says earnestly, 'what you post on Facebook is really...... excruciatingly funny. REALLY funny.'
Inwardly, I begin to swell with pride, like a Paul Hollywood loaf. Only without the adultery. Yas, dear reader, I likes to be funny. And show me the person who doesn't like to be told that one's every utterance on facebook is a glittering GEM of wit and humour and I'll show you a liar.
'Yes, you're wonderfully funny....' she continued.
'Why thank you. That's really kind of you to say so.' I beamed, saintly in my new St Kevin of Bridges status.
'and yet....' she continued...'He're you're so.....not.'
Hear that? That's the sound of my ego crashing and burning, man, crashing and BURNING.
I did laugh, eventually (and perhaps a little brittlely) because she's right - I'm not very funny when delivering these workshops. If I was funny whilst talking, I'd be on the telly doing stand-up alongside Michael McIntyre, not tippy-typing away in the darkness of my spare room, yanno?
Still, the flaming ruins of my artificially inflated ego should keep Sonshine and I warm for many nights this week.
Go on tell me - when has someone complimented you and then whupped it away again just as quickly?
BTW, if the Kevin Bridges reference has escaped you, here's the man himself: