'You're much sexier than your clothes suggest' she says, looking me straight in the eye. 'But you've been hurt recently.' I've hardly had a chance to catch my breath - I have just finalised a traumatic divorce - before she goes on: 'You have no need to worry, you will be better very soon, as soon as you have put things behind you.' WITH that she asks me for my date of birth, and whispers: 'You are an eight. It means your key word is power and you can accomplish a great deal - although you are also a crab, ruled by the Moon, which gives you a strong feminine side.' The compliments are beginning to make me feel a little light-headed, but who am I to quibble with a woman whose clients include Bill Clinton, Cher, Bill Gates and Geri Halliwell?

Smoking feverishly - 'I read better when I do' - she asks me to pick nine cards from a pack with my left hand.

When I've done so, she announces: 'You have a son whom you love very deeply' (true); 'you have also been divorced recently' (true again). 'You can accomplish whatever you set your mind to, providing you allow the past to fade away,' she murmurs (true again, I think, but a tad on the obvious side).

I select another three cards. 'You will meet a new partner more quickly than you think,' Mama Love announces, with something of a glint in her eye.

Well, that really does take my breath away. I'm not contemplating another relationship, not for a long time any way. But she is not to be deterred: 'You will find your soul mate.' Somehow, it is impossible not to warm to this sixtysomething-year-old, who discovered Europe, and particularly Ibiza, in the early Sixties after a conventional childhood in the United States. 'I've had six husbands,' she confesses, as she changes the pack of cards. 'I get bored, you see. Now I go out with younger men. Men my age are so dull.' Now, dull is not a word you would use to describe this sparky former hippie with a taste for red nail-polish.

When I cut the new pack, I reveal the ace and Queen of Hearts. 'There,' she exclaims. 'I told you. You will definitely marry again.' By now I am utterly captivated, if a little stunned.

More cards: 'You have no need to worry about money. The sun will shine upon you and you will continue to grow,' she says swiftly, before adding defensively: 'I do have gloomy cards you know. It is just that you are lucky.' By the time I got to taking three runes out of a cloth bag and reading their meaning in her tattered, well-worn book, I was positively glowing.
'It is all very positive' she announces, stabbing out her fourth cigarette in the hour-long session. 'I hope you feel more confident now,' she adds. I certainly do.

Will it turn out to be true? Who can say? But I would confess to feeling much more cheerful since meeting the woman who claims she can even tell when a couple might not be right for each other by numerology, cards and runes. I wouldn't bet against her: for my money she's more of a tonic than any marriage guidance counsellor.

TV JOURNALIST and mother-of-two Rachel Royce, 42, married broadcaster Rod Liddle in January this year.

The couple were separated by May and Rachel is now dating Piers Gibbon, 38, a freelance TV presenter.

MAMA LOVE looked at the photos she had asked me to bring. One was of my estranged husband, Rod Liddle, the other was my boyfriend, Piers Gibbon.

She asked me when my birthday was and, after adding up my dates, told me I was a 'five'. Then she did the same with Rod and concluded he was also a 'five', which made him a good match for me. Piers was a 'two', which apparently makes him a brilliant lover but not Mr Right.

Why not keep the husband and just have Piers for sex, she suggested.

I pointed out that my husband went off with someone else on my honeymoon and has now proposed to her. 'He's a pig. Make him suffer.

You should make him bleed!' Mama Love is alarmingly outspoken.

Then she hit on a great idea: 'I know, why don't you sell your story to the papers! She seemed very excited at this idea, which made me feel like a total fraud. I didn't want to blow my cover, but she obviously hadn't seen my Diary Of A Divorce column in the Mail.

Because I hesitated at her proposal she accused me of being a doormat.

'You let this happen. It's all your fault for being too weak and letting him walk all over you,' she said. 'You're a Taurean woman, you're meant to be strong. What's wrong with you - you're 42, not a little girl. I want to see your anger!' I muttered that I was angry. She looked unconvinced and irritated. I suggested we start the card reading.

I lost count of how many times she did the cards but it wasaround four or five times - I was still rather flustered by the doormat accusation, probably because, when I consider what went wrong in the past, I think she's probably right.

The cards supported her thesis that I had to stick up for myself more and then I would be happy in love and make lots of money. 'You see,' she said.

'Get on the phone tomorrow and ring the papers.'

The consultation concluded with a reading of the runes. Happily, the outcome was good. More money (once I'd become strong) and a happy love life. That was the ending I wanted to hear, really.

Then she gave me a flyer with her details. It revealed that Mama Love does consultations with couples.

'Perhaps I could bring Piers next time and you could tell me if we are right for each other,' I said, trying to end on a jolly note.'NO,' she almost screamed at me.

'How many times do I have to tell you? Piers is for sex only. He's a number two - you need an eight.' Anybody know any eligible eights?

JOURNALIST Justin Gayner, 27, is single and lives alone in West London FIVE minutes in and my cynicism evaporates. Mama's analysis is gripping and I am hooked. 'Your numbeenables you to do whatever you want,' she says, smiling broadly. 'You have always changed jobs, whatever they might be, with the greatest of ease.' Spot on. Before becoming a journalist, I was a City headhunter, an internet entrepreneur and a chef.

She continues: 'You have a very inquiring mind, and you multitask brilliantly. Neither are you are afraid of anything nor

anyone.' She drags deeply from a cigarette. 'In fact darling, I wouldn't be surprised if you are a journalist.' She brings out a pack of cards, and asks me to pick nine.

'Your mum is very creative, and loves to have a laugh. I like her. Your dad is very busy. He always has a lot on his plate and I suspect he pushes himself too hard. This might affect his health.' Right again. My mother is an interior designer, with a wicked sense of humour. Aside from being a successful GP, Dad also collects art, buys and sells property, and plays golf and tennis at least once a week.

He's also just had heart surgery.

Nine more cards go down and Mama starts talking about my brother. 'He has always harboured a dream of moving abroad, and he will only find true happiness when he does. He is very sociable, and is good with people.

Toby, 26, owns a successful pub in Fulham. He loathes British winters and has long talked of opening a bar in the Caribbean.

I've heard enough. This exotic woman has convinced me of her powers and I leave the pub feeling disoriented.

Hell knows what Mama Love is up to, but it's good. Damn good.

JOURNALIST Corrie Jackson, 24, has been dating Simon Johnson, 24, a financial consultant, for six months. She lives alone in South Kensington, London.

I'VE been wary of clairvoyants since a psychic at university told me that I would have 'a fulfilling life, but a short one'.

I was stunned. How short was short? Did she know when or how?

So I confess I wasn't exactly openminded when I went to meet ht and I was a Spiritual Warrior (I liked the sound of that).

Her description of me was very accurate and I was rather enjoying myself, until she revealed that I would get married six or seven times. I was horrified.

Apparently, I get bored with men quickly (not untrue) and will work my way through several husbands.

Her advice was to write out all my life plans on a piece of paper and then burn it so I wouldn't become obsessed by it (which I have since done and found quite liberating).

Mama Love is a blast; she is loud, rude and eccentric. But with regards to my future as a serial bride, I look forward to proving her wrong.