The Baby Mind Reader: Amazing Psychic Stories from the Man Who Can Read Babies’ Minds

I didn’t fit in at college from day one. I wasn’t the engineering type and had no real aptitude for or interest in it. In my second year, I had what I thought was a nervous breakdown. When I initially went to the doctor and told him I was having panic attacks on the bus and hot flushes in lectures, he told me I was just going through an awkward stage in my life. He suggested I might subconsciously be finding the pressures of college life a little difficult, and struggling to come to terms with the possibility that my childhood dreams weren’t going to become reality. It was all very man-to-man, ‘it’s time to grow up’ stuff but I knew there was more to it than that. I understood the reasons better than anyone but didn’t want to share them in case I was ridiculed.

I went along with the doctor’s theory that the pressures of college had made me unwell. This was not a total lie because I did hate every second of it. However, the truth was that I was finding it really difficult to cope with being gay and couldn’t handle lying about my sexuality any longer. Additionally, I was even more conscious of energy at that time, and could ‘feel’ things from people, especially my fellow students. I could sense their health problems and personal issues which, quite honestly, were sometimes a great deal more than I needed to know. I really thought I was going mad. I knew I had some sort of sixth sense but hadn’t realized why I had it or, more importantly, how I should use this ability. At that time it was more of a hindrance than a blessing, and I thought I needed some professional help in order to get these crazy thoughts out of my head.

I was never honest with the psychologist who was assigned to look after me. Within the first few minutes of meeting her I realized that all she understood had been programmed into her by her profession, a profession that had a total disregard for all things psychic. I had to face reality – what I thought I needed wasn’t going to come from her.

What I’d been trying to cope with was draining me every day. I was exhausted, both mentally and psychically. My nervous breakdown took its toll, and I was forced to repeat my second year at college. When I went back to college after the summer break I felt slightly better about myself. I was more confident and was beginning to come to terms with my situation, albeit in a rather weird way. I had made some decisions during the holidays. I was going to put my worries about being gay and psychic in a little box, lock it and throw away the key. I decided that the more I ignored my issues, the less they would worry me and the happier I would become. I didn’t even stop to contemplate what this decision could do to me psychologically. I would pretend I was just a normal, straight guy, and this was the image I would portray to my new college buddies.

My new fellow students were very different to the ones I’d been with in my previous years. They were friendlier and more socially aware, and I quickly made friends with a group of boys who would become a great influence in my life, although I didn’t know it at the time.

One summer, I was looking to make some money, and one of my college pals, John, offered to go busking with me in Glasgow. John played guitar and I accompanied him on my accordion. We both had a go at singing but after a few hours it started to rain and we tried to find somewhere to shelter. John noticed that there was a music shop nearby so we went along to have a look as he was thinking about getting a new guitar.

I hit it off immediately with the music shop owner, Peter Bryce. I suddenly realized that if I bought a few guitars out of local papers or from students at college I could clean them up and sell them on in my new-found friend’s music shop, hopefully making a profit. Within a few months, after much negotiation and wheeling and dealing, The Guitar Store in Glasgow was born. I had new dreams now and knew that I had to follow them or I would be miserable for the rest of my life, so I left college during my finals, much to mum and dad’s annoyance, and set my sights on being a businessman.

Doing the business

The success of my new business was astounding. I was now running The Guitar Store on a full-time basis. Within a year I’d bought out my business partner, Peter, the owner of the original shop. I put every hour God sent into making that shop work. I needed something to concentrate on so I would forget about my sexuality and dim my sixth sense. The Guitar Store flourished and I moved to new premises in Hope Street in Glasgow in 1988.

I kept working hard, building up the business over the next few years until I sold it in 1994 to a major music manufacturer and wholesaler. By that time I’d worked non-stop for seven years and was totally burnt out. I needed time off. After a protracted negotiation period, I walked away with around £200,000 from my deal and started to think about my next move. The amount wasn’t anywhere near the magic million figure, but at least I was on my way to my dream.

I’d been working hard and making good money so I liked to splash the cash now and again. Looking back, I now realize this was the start of my problems with money. I had reached a stage in my life when I felt I needed money in order to be me. Money had become my God and I hadn’t noticed it.

During the summer of 1994, I made the biggest decision of my life: I told the world that I was gay. It was during that time that my psychic abilities took a hold of me and soared. I think that at the moment I was honest with myself about my sexuality I just became me – the whole me, not just the pretend me who had tried for years to fit into the heterosexual world. There was no more pretence and no more lies to hide behind. I was free.

To my surprise, no-one was offended by my revelation. It was the release I needed, and in some way it helped me come to terms with the dramatic event that had taken place at the Christmas dining table all those years before.

It was then that I decided to try my luck in the bar and club world, an area of business I thought would help me achieve my childhood goal. I still wanted to be a millionaire! I bought my first bar, Mojo, for £250,000.

During my time working in Mojo I noticed that my psychic abilities as a medium started to become more pronounced. Within the first few days, it became fairly obvious to me that the building was haunted. The ghost who would come to try and talk to me seemed, from the information I managed to get from her, to be stuck there, as if she was in some sort of time warp. She was always tearful, and I knew from the emotions that would run through me when I connected with her that she needed help quickly.

I was very inexperienced at that time, so through a friend of a friend I managed to locate a medium whom I thought would be able to help me deal with my spiritual encounter. The medium was helpful but honest enough to tell me that she was also out of her depth. I therefore decided to bring in the ‘heavy squad’, and located a couple of Glasgow University chaps who were part of a psychic society and asked them to come and sort it out for me. They did and were incredibly helpful. After much investigation, they told me that the ghostly presence I had been tuning in to was the spirit of a prostitute who had been murdered in the early 1920s in the building, and that she had obviously been seeking help to cross over fully into the spirit world. Thankfully, she had come across me, someone whom she knew could communicate with the dead, and had just managed to get her message through. We arranged for a priest to come to the bar and bless it in order for the prostitute’s spirit to be given the peace she’d been craving for nearly 80 years.

I started to see my first boyfriend, Michael, around the time I opened Mojo. Michael, a teacher, was very supportive when I began doing psychic readings for friends and family. His encouragement really helped me come to terms with my sixth sense.

Within a year of opening Mojo, I had achieved more than I thought possible. The bar was doing great and had become one of the coolest bars in Glasgow. However, I was beginning to get itchy feet. It was therefore a great relief when, in the summer of 1996, I received a call telling me that someone wanted to buy Mojo for £620,000. I jumped at the chance.

My next bar project, Ocho, also made me a great deal of money. Because it was doing so well, in 1998 I decided to sell it and open another bar in Glasgow, Bar Budda. I’d always wanted to be a nightclub operator as it seemed a cool thing to do, and work on Budda Club started in late 1998. During the renovation of Budda Club, located above Bar Budda, we went from one crisis to another. The budgets went through the roof, but somehow we managed to open for business in late December, just in time for the Christmas and New Year period.

Michael and I were working totally opposite hours at that time. I would be going to work when he was asleep and coming home just a few hours before he was due to get up for work. This issue, along with the advent of financial worries, started to put quite a strain on our relationship, so I wasn’t that surprised when Michael asked me to sleep in a separate bedroom.

By March 1999 I was beginning to panic when I noticed that the club’s fortunes were not turning in the right direction. I’m not proud to say it, but I was losing my nerve. For some strange reason, I just knew that this was the beginning of the end.

Michael had bought me some books for Christmas that I’d still not read by March. One night, in order to escape from the worries of life, I decided to read Richard Branson’s Losing my Virginity. I now wish that I hadn’t. I came across a couple of very interesting chapters that I felt had been written just for my benefit. I noticed that when the Virgin empire was in financial trouble, Richard expanded his company to increase cash flow. This gave him time to reconstruct his business and keep the creditors from the door. This, I thought, would be my plan too. I’d open up a couple more bars with borrowed money from the brewers, who at that time didn’t know the full extent of my financial troubles, and use the extra cash flow from those bars to pay creditors. This would also buy me time to figure out how to make the club work properly. I was excited and felt back in control again.

Initially, my plan went quite well but by August the club was not making enough money for me to pay my many creditors and also keep the bank happy. To make matters worse, the successful Budda Bar was starting to lose credibility because of its association with the rather uncool club located upstairs.

After much soul-searching, Michael and I decided to sell our beloved home and try to shore up the company with the equity from the sale. It was a terrible wrench and put a further strain on our relationship.

This was one of the most difficult periods of my life. Friends who had made a great deal of money from me over the years were deserting me by the barrowful. People I trusted didn’t return my calls and, worse still, my staff began to lose respect for me. Many left and found other jobs in Glasgow’s overpopulated world of bars and clubs.

Now when things are bad they can get really bad, even when you think they can’t get any worse. One Friday evening in November 1999, I received a call from my lawyer, Brian. He told me I had a major problem. The liquidation accountants were on their way to the Budda Bar to close it down.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What the hell was going on? I knew nothing about this writ and was totally stunned. I literally dropped everything and ran out of the house. I could hardly breathe and was shaking with fear. There were tears in my eyes and my head was bursting. If I couldn’t get over to Brian’s office as quickly as possible I would be out of business within the hour. I tried desperately to find a taxi but it was almost impossible at that time on a Friday. So I started running. I ran and ran through the streets of Glasgow’s West End in the pouring rain. I’d been running for a good five minutes when I saw a taxi with its ‘for hire’ light on. Within minutes I was at Brian’s office, shaking with fear and in a terrible state.

Brian told me I needed to raise £25,000 by Monday morning to prevent my business being closed down. The weird thing was that the sale of our house was due to be completed the following week, so at the back of my mind I knew that if I could borrow money from somewhere I could repay it almost immediately from our sale proceeds. I lifted the phone and called my dad. He was pretty shocked when I told him about my predicament. He wanted to help but had only around £3,000 in ready cash. If I wanted more, he would have to make some calls and get back to me. True to his word, dad called back within the hour and told me that he could get another £10,000 from a friend of his. I managed to raise the remaining £12,000 from the weekend’s takings at my bars. I thought I was safe. I had bought time.

I don’t know how I got through those dark days of November 1999. I suppose I just dug deep and hoped that things would turn out all right in the end. I was still fairly young and in good health, which meant that I could always start up again in business if I felt the desire to do so. But the magic was slowly disappearing from my world of wheeling and dealing and bars and clubs. I just couldn’t see myself going through the trauma of starting up from scratch if my business went bust.

At this point, I found comfort in knowing that I could – if need be – take my own life. I understand that this may sound rather melodramatic or even selfish, but it was this thought and the ultimate level of control it brought me that really kept me going. No matter how bad things got, I had a get-out clause. It was also strangely comforting to know that I had an insurance policy that would pay out £1 million on my death, even if I committed suicide. If the worst came to the worst at least I’d be able to leave Michael and my family enough money for them to be fairly comfortably off.

I was constantly bombarded with calls from creditors. Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much in the kitty to pay them. I could feel my business slipping away from beneath my feet like quicksand.

When we finally sold our house, it wasn’t the anticipated answer to my financial problems. Once we’d paid off our mortgage with the cash from the sale we were left with approximately £113,000. As soon as the money hit our account the bank manager used some of it to pay off my company overdraft, so we were left with £73,000. The bank manager wasn’t finished though. Michael and I had credit cards, which we had been using for months to buy food and pay bills. Our card bill was sitting at £13,000 so the bank manager took our cards from us, tore them up and paid off the bill. We had £60,000 left but the bank manager still wasn’t finished. By the time I’d paid off some of my debts, I was left with nothing. Not a penny, absolutely nothing. I now had no money to pay back my mum and dad and I was devastated.

Michael and I moved into our new home and were settling in. Christmas was only a few weeks away but we decided not to buy each other presents because we were totally broke and struggling to get by from day to day. I felt terrible for Michael. He’d put so much effort into our relationship and his reward was a house that was soon to be repossessed and a failed business.

I had to laugh when everyone in Budda Club started counting down the final moments of 1999. The worst year of my life was just seconds away from finishing, and what could be the most difficult year ever was just about to start. I hugged Michael. I knew that we wouldn’t last the next 12 months together and I think he did too. We smiled as we held hands and watched the crowds party as the champagne corks popped and the streamers flew all around us. The club was full for once, which was an achievement in itself. I knew that this would be my last time in the place. People would be starting back at work within the next few days and credit managers would be on the phone looking for their money. What a totally crazy situation this was.

That Sunday evening I’d had enough. Budda was in chaos and I had to get away from it. I thought long and hard and decided to go to London. I wasn’t planning on coming back. I remember standing on Tower Bridge one Thursday evening. I hadn’t been sleeping too well and had started taking Night Nurse tablets. They seemed to dim my senses and got me through most days. I looked into the Thames and started to think about climbing onto the railing. The water seemed a long way down. I began to think about my life; all the highs and now the terrible lows. It didn’t seem fair that I’d ended up with so much pain, but I told myself that life wasn’t fair. I didn’t care. I was on my way out of this madness. I put my foot on the railing and started to pull myself up. I managed to get one leg onto the other side when I suddenly heard a voice. It wasn’t the voice of a passer-by. It was all around me, engulfing me. It was in my head but it wasn’t a part of me. It was surreal.

‘Go home and face the music,’ this man’s voice said. ‘You will come through this and will grow from it. This pain will not last forever. Go home Derek.’

I looked around me but there was no-one there. I was shocked. I felt as if someone had just put their arms around me and I was being protected in some way. It was an amazing feeling. It was warm and calming and I felt consumed with love. Somebody somewhere was looking out for me, and I suddenly realized that this message was coming from a greater source than I’d ever known. If this was my guardian angel then I was going to listen to him. No question. I quickly pulled my leg back from the other side of the railing and picked up my bag. I wasn’t shaking or nervous. I was almost being led away from there. So I walked back to the flat, called Michael and asked him to book me a ticket back to Glasgow.

I was tired and lonely but I’d decided to come home. I knew we didn’t have much time left, and that it was a matter of months before our new house would be repossessed. I needed to salvage at least something out of this situation, even if it was only my dignity. After hearing the voice I’d realized that being in London meant that I was running away from my responsibilities.

Within a few days of my return to Glasgow, my gran died. She’d been ill for some time but her death seemed incredibly poignant to me. Was she leaving me now in order to help me out in another way?

Gran’s death left me with an even greater issue. The £3,000 that mum and dad had lent me was gran’s funeral money that she’d been saving up for years. Mum and dad now couldn’t afford to pay for the coffin, the funeral, the lunch or a headstone. I was devastated.

I knew I had to do one final deal and do it quickly. I’d been negotiating the sale of my business for some time, but I wasn’t at all happy with what I was being offered. I wanted to find some other way out of my financial mess. However, I’d reached a stage where I had no choice. On the day we buried my gran, the deal was finally agreed. I called Brian, my old lawyer, when I got back from the funeral, and his advice will stay with me forever. ‘Derek, get out of Glasgow. You have upset many people and they will be coming after you. You aren’t safe.’

When the business was sold its assets didn’t cover all of its liabilities so it went into liquidation. As I personal guarantees to the bank, the brewers and some of my suppliers I had to sell off everything I owned to pay these outstanding debts, but it wasn’t enough and I was made bankrupt by one of my creditors. Mum and dad got their £13,000 because I fought tooth and nail to make sure they did. Apart from the odd phone call, I didn’t really get any hassle from the majority of my creditors after that. I think they all realized there was no point wasting any more money in legal fees as they had no chance of getting anything if the pot was empty.

During this period, my relationship with Michael continued to deteriorate. We weren’t seeing eye to eye, and it was proving rather difficult for us to sit in the same room together.

I vividly remember one night in March 2000. Michael and I were asleep when I heard a loud bang on the door at around 5am. I had no idea what was going on so I quickly ran downstairs and opened the door. There on the doorstep was one of my creditors, and he didn’t look all that happy. He had what appeared to be a baseball bat in his hand, and he forced his way into our home. He started screaming at me for his money and threatened to take our furniture away in the van he had outside. I explained that we had nothing and what furniture there was in the house was Michael’s, but he wasn’t one for reasoning with me and started hitting me with the handle of the baseball bat. I fell to the floor and screamed in pain at each blow to my head and body. By this time Michael had rushed downstairs and was trying to stop my attacker. Michael pleaded with the man to stop, and within a few minutes he left, jumped in his van and drove off. The police arrived 20 minutes later, but by this time Michael and I had decided that we weren’t going to press charges. I knew who the man was and where he lived but I also realized that he was a single parent and had lost his wife just a few years earlier. The last thing he needed was a criminal record. He was angry and frustrated and I understood that. What he did was wrong but I forgave him at the time and I still do to this day.

The rest of my life just fell into place after that. Michael decided that he didn’t feel safe in our home anymore and thought that he no longer loved me, so the next day he packed his bags and left. I was very confused at this point about who I was, and with my home about to be repossessed by the bank in the next few months, I didn’t know where my life was going. Once Michael left, I suddenly became aware again of my amazing ability to connect with the dead. I think this was because I was now on my own and didn’t have to mould my life to fit in with another person. I started to see and hear spirits but I was having trouble coping with my psychic powers. My friend Philipa knew a couple of people she thought I should meet. One was a lady called Elspeth, and the other was a chap called John who owned a hotel in Tyndrum.

Elspeth lived near Philipa in Helensburgh, so I went to see her one summer’s day in 2000. Elspeth was such a warm and friendly woman that the moment we met I started to cry. I’m not sure if it was just me releasing all the hurt and pain I’d been through or if I felt something more from Elspeth. Looking back, I now realize that it was the beginning of my spiritual awakening, and that this meeting – which was to be the first of many – would open me up to my true potential. I received something spiritual from Elspeth at that first meeting, something I’d never had from anyone else before. She seemed to be connected to me in such a strange and unfathomable way. We held hands like we were brother and sister and we chatted like we’d known each other for years.

Elspeth was a healer and I received some healing from her. In return, I gave her a reading which turned out to be very emotional for both of us. The son she’d lost as a small boy came through for her that day. He told me about his death in great detail; about the journey in the ambulance and his mother’s despair as she stood by while the doctors tried to get his heart started again. I remember being so pleased that I could return to Elspeth the love she’d shown me that day. I continued to see Elspeth during that summer and still see her to this day. She has been a great help to me and will never know how much she helped me come to terms with my ability.

Philipa’s friend John was also a healer. It took us ages to drive to John’s hotel, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. John seemed like an ordinary bloke to me. He was quiet but cheery, with almost exactly the same demeanour as Elspeth. When he touched me I could feel his energy piercing my body. I really had no idea why Philipa had brought me to this man. She had mentioned something about opening me up to the spirit world but I didn’t really understand.

John took us into one of the hotel’s large function suites. It was empty so we had lots of space to work in. John asked me about my circumstances and I explained about the past few months of my life. He seemed to understand how difficult it had been for me, and as we spoke he held me in his arms. I felt totally at ease with John. This wasn’t anything sexual. It was love like I’d never known before, and it was an amazing feeling. He truly did have healing hands. Within a few minutes, though, I began to feel rather faint. I lay down and John knelt over me. He held his hands a few inches from my stomach and I began to feel this rush of energy to that point of my body. It felt heavy and black. It was also a very negative feeling and I could sense that it was stuck there. I began to cough. I felt this energy rise through my body. It came up and up, slowly but surely, through my lungs, up to my throat. Then, as I opened my mouth, I could feel this rush of energy gushing out. I could feel the sensation of this negative, black, angry energy flying off the walls of the room. I started to scream and cry, like a child. Within seconds I had started to convulse and I was squirming and writhing all over the floor. Philipa had to help John hold me down. I started to swear. I cursed like I’ve never cursed before. I was scared to open my eyes in case I saw something that would frighten me, but my instinct got the better of me and I slowly opened my right eye. I couldn’t believe what I saw. There were black spectres bouncing off the walls of that room, about six or seven of them. I saw large ones and small ones, and as I was now more consciously aware of what was going on, I noticed that the more I coughed and spluttered, the more of these horrible black shapes were flying out of my mouth.