A Postcard From Withernsea


I had a lovely year manifesting myself through the corporeal form of my nephew Michael. And there is a lot of written material that he needs to get off his arse and start editing into something coherent, like he ruddy well said he would. But just as we were getting into it all he only went and decided that he “needs a little time to think things over.” I turned around to him and said “its funny how quick the milk turns sour, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” And when he couldn’t think of a decent reply, I added “I don’t know about a little time…  You need a little room… For your big head”  Then I poked him in the ribs a couple of times and repeated “Don’t you?” while I did it.

Any road, you are dead a ruddy long time. And I’m not wasting too much of it hanging around waiting for him to get his act together. So I thought that I might as well spend some of it somewhere nice. So I am currently lodging in Withernsea, in the olden days, well before that useless lump of a nephew of mine was born.

But I know that there are a few people missing my pearls of wisdom, and it has been nice to hear from them. So I persuaded him to don the tights once again, just so that I could send you this postcard. Luckily, he still keeps a bottle of sherry on top of the cupboard next to the fridge, so it was worth the effort.

He reckons he will get around to that editing with me some time in the not too distant future, but at the moment, its all about that ruddy silly pop group of his. He is spending all his time  time cataloguing and writing about the 50 songs he has written over the past few years. And he says that he doesn’t need my help with that thank you very much.

Charming! Seeing as I am the one who trained his ruddy fingers to type out five hundred words in less than an hour, and trained his ruddy brain to make sure that at least three hundred of them weren’t complete shite.

And, to add insult to injury, he has decided not to serialise any of that stuff on the internet, because he wants it to have a ruddy impact when he releases it to a world that doesn’t care. He was born too late that one. Hardly anyone bothers reading more than a couple of hundred words at a time these days, not since they invented that ruddy U-bend Tube thing anyway.

Mind you. They come in handy for some things. Like the time my Raymond got drunk and was sick down the toilet. The plumber only managed to fish his dentures out because they got stuck in the U-boat, They were as good as new too, after we had rinsed them out in TCP.

Anyway. My Raymond isn’t staying in Withernsea with me. He’s still pining for that Muriel Dewlap, although I don’t think that she is as interested as she was after she first passed over. Especially now that that Val Doonican has arrived on the scene. Apparently she once had a fling with him whilst he was appearing at the Futurist in Scarborough, and she fancies that he might want to posthumously rekindle the flame. Aye, her and a couple of hundred others. I reckon he has got enough on his plate at the ruddy moment, and he will have rekindled a fair few flames before he gets around to her. If ever.

Any road, I have been enjoying the company of one of them minstrels here at the seaside. And before you ask, no I don’t know what ruddy colour he is because I have never seen him without his makeup on. Not that it makes any difference to me anyway. But he’s a bit shy about things like that. I said to him, I said “I don’t know what your thinking about my baby, it don’t matter if your black or white.” I fancied that ruddy Rudolph Valentino, and he was black AND white.

I got a parcel from a Punch and Judy man from America the other day. Trying to get me to do fortunes again.  It was a ruddy rum looking Tarot pack, and that was in black and white too. I might use it yet. But I’ll probably not serialise it on the ruddy internet because our Michael says that we might run into copyright problems. Mind you If he ever lets me back into the light entertainment industry, then it might come in handy. You never know.

Well, I shall love you and leave you all for now, with these time honoured words…

Having a lovely time… wish you were here.

But don’t go doing “anything stupid” in your haste to join me.

God bless,

Auntie Doris.


Auntie Doris’s All Things Must Pass #12: Auntie Doris


I had been dead for about 17 years before I first manifested myself through that ruddy nephew of mine. At first I was just helping him out with clairvoyant acts now and again, which was just basically him showing off in front of his mates down at the pub. I still do a bit of that now. I’ll be doing a pantomime with him this year at a proper ruddy theatre an’all, just like I did last year. But when it boils down to it, he’s still just showing off in front of his ruddy mates.
It was my idea to start writing these little homilies every day. I started writing them on the Facebook last October, with Auntie Doris’s Guide to the Zodiac, and after that I developed a taste for the writing, so I carried on with it. My ruddy nephew thought he was onto a winner. After a few months he decided that I was too good for Facebook, so he starts having them put on what he calls a “blog” on the WordPress, and by then he was pushing me to write 500+ words a day. But do you know what? I ruddy enjoyed the discipline. And so did he. Although part of his discipline was wearing a pair of my old tights to help him “summon my spirit” even though if I have told him once, I have told him a hundred times that he doesn’t ruddy need to. The filthy so and so.
Any road. I have now been producing an article a day for a year. And it is time to stop. No more daily homily from me. I have had enough of it. All things must pass. But don’t go thinking that you have heard the last of me. Ohh no.
Michael’s idea was that he would collect all my little homilies and then try and get them published under a title like “Auntie Doris’s Almanac,” and then, with my help he would become a world famous writer. But as things developed, we both changed our minds. That’s why we are both comfortable with having all the articles since March on that WordPress Site where all and sundry can find it and read it to their heart’s content. And once we are not writing every day, the ones from before last March will be going up soon, so you will be able to see how much better I am at stringing sentences together than I was last October.
When I was a young lass at school, I had an art teacher called Mrs Johnson. And in one of her lessons I drew a picture of the King in his carriage in London with all the horses and soldiers and that. Some of it I copied out of a book, and some of it was out of my imagination. Mrs Johnson said that it was a vet good picture, but I thought that she was being kind. It was ok. But the horses’ legs looked a bit wrong, like they came out of the wrong parts of their bodies and were a bit wonky. The Kings fingers were the wrong size for his hand, and the wheels of his carriage were all wrong. I took it home and worked on it for three nights, rubbing bits out here and there, re drawing bits, and slowly improving it. When I took it back to show Mrs Johnson, she really did seem thrilled, and made a real fuss of me for going that extra mile, and making something that was good into something that was really, really good.
And that’s how I feel about all this writing. I’m not letting my ruddy nephew waste it by publishing something that’s only half polished. And that’s the main reason that I am not going to write daily homilies any more.
Here’s the plan. Me and Michael are going to put in some real work on “The Auntie Doris Years” from 1900 to 2000. Expanding them and filling in more detail about the history involved, both the textbook history and the stories of how me and my family responded to it. Its not going anywhere to be published until I have all the horses legs, the kings fingers and the undercarriage worked out properly. Then we will see what happens.
I’m not leaving the ruddy internet alone completely though. Theres still about 28 Tarot Cards to do, and I’m not stopping the Sunday Posts until I’ve done them. And I will still be doing the occasional “Auntie Doris’s Book Club” and stuff like that. I will also be doing a regular weekly post about how the work on the other stuff is coming on, without giving too much away, so that people will still want to buy it when it comes out as a book. And then there’ll be negotiating the film rights. I have thought about it, and want that Helen Mirren to play me. And Timothy Spall to play my nephew Michael. He has just the right gormless expression.
I will only be putting the writing on WordPress from now on though, and just linking to it from Facebook. I know that many of my l;oyal Facebook friends will consider this to be a bit of a pain in the arse. But there you go…. All things must pass.