Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #41: Death: 11th -17th August 2014

This is the card that puts the ruddy willies up everyone. A Skeleton in a black suit of armour trampling everyone under his horse. He’s already got a King, and a little kiddie and it’s mother are next. And there’s a ruddy bishop stood in front of it, asking it to stop, but I don’t see him getting anywhere with that idea. Death comes to us all! If you think you can avoid it, you’ve got another think coming. No wonder people don’t like this card, what could be worse?
Well, as far as I’m concerned, there could be a lot worse than this card. Look at me… I’m ruddy dead aren’t I? And it hasn’t done me any harm. When I was alive hardly anyone at all knew me, and now I am a world famous blogger and entertainer with literally hundreds of friends, and not all of them are just on Facebook either!
The main thing about the death card is that it means “change.” Of course, death is a big change for anyone who goes through it, but there are other types of change as well, ones that you don’t have to die to experience.
For a start there’s “the change” that ladies of a certain age go through. When my sister Pearl went through that change, she was ruddy intolerable for a bit. It was about the time that my mother died, and she went right overboard about how she should have had that Chinese tea caddy when she knew fine well that mother had wanted me to have it. She didn’t speak to me for years over that.
But there’s other changes as well, in the card there is going to be a change of monarch, because that old King’s ruling days are over, what with him laid under the horse with his crown knocked clean off his head, like Emily Davison at the 1913 Derby. And a change of leader might not be a bad thing. That’s why people change their jobs isn’t it? And why football teams change their managers.
Not many people like change; moving house, a new job, dying… things like that always involve saying goodbye to something that we are used to, and it can be worrying and uncomfortable. But there are symbols all over the card that give you the hope that the change might not turn out as bad as you thought they might. I reckon that the sun is rising in the background, and look at the skeleton’s horse, it is white, and pure and noble, symbolising change for the better. That little kiddie hasn’t been trampled into the ground yet, and even though her poor mother is fainting away, she might yet wake up to find out that her and the Bairn have been spared. Even the bishop symbolises sprititualism defying death. Or something like that.
Finally that ruddy great flag the skeleton has got. It has a white Rose on it, rather than the black Rose of death. The white rose symbolises good things, new beginnings, love, honesty, integrity, and, of course, Yorkshire, the home of all such things.
So don’t go having nightmares, the death card is your friend.
Four things that you might do this week: (i) Apply for a new job, or if you haven’t got one, either apply for a different type of job than you normally do, or take up a new hobby. You never know what will happen when you change your game. (ii) get that skeleton out of your closet, confess to someone about that thing that you did all those years ago. Yes… you! You know exactly what I’m on about, so don’t go pretending that you don’t. I’m not saying that you should go running your mouth off to a vicar or a policeman or anyone, you can tell some drunken stranger in a pub, or ring the Samaritans for all I care, but you will feel better with it off your chest. (iii) Try and make a few new friends, either on Facebook or in real life. Don’t worry about not succeeding, their loss, but it might be fun and it might be life changing. (iv) Book a holiday in Yorkshire. Even if you already live in Yorkshire. The Yorkshire tourist industry could always do with the money, especially in Withernsea, which is a pleasure to visit at any time of the year.

The Auntie Doris Years: 1995

daisy-logoIt was a ruddy funny thing. At first I put it down to all the little kiddies in the family making me feel broody. But you shouldn’t get broody at 81. I couldn’t deny it though. My bosoms were getting bigger. I told myself not to be so soft. I enjoyed having kiddies in the family. I had always enjoyed being around kiddies. But it was way too late for me now.
And then they started leaking. It looked like milk! I didn’t know what to think. Leaky milk bottles… At my age!
I hadn’t been feeling all that good, so I went to see the doctor. He prodded and poked them a bit, and then he telephoned the ruddy hospital and got me an appointment. He got it pretty sharpish an’all. It was only a few days before I had them prodding and poking and taking x-ray photographs of me without my bra on into the bargain.
I didn’t understand it. I had always been in decent health. I had always looked after myself. Yes I enjoyed a few ciggies and a glass of sherry but who didn’t? I know that I had been feeling run down lately, but I was 81. That was understandable. Along with the belly ache and the diarrhoea, I wouldn’t have thought that was out of the ordinary, particularly as I liked to have a fish shop tea now and again. Although I hadn’t had one in a while. But that was only because I hadn’t been really hungry.
Any road, they told me that I would have to go into hospital for a bit while they did some more tests and see if they could sort me out. Told me to go home and pack my nightie and a few bits and pieces and wait for them to phone. It shouldn’t be long before they had a bed ready, they said.
So I did as I was told. I called in on April May on the way back, and told her all about it, and she helped me sort a little suitcase out. That was good of her because I was really tired. It had been a long day.
They rang the next morning and I went in. They had a bed ready for me on a ward with some other old girls, who looked the worse for wear. I remember wondering why they had put me in with that lot, because they looked properly ill. But by then I was beginning to realise that I wasn’t really all that good myself.
Its funny, but when you go into hospital, you sort of become ill because of where you are. Outside, its all focused on getting on with it and being well, ignoring aches and pains as best as you can. In hospital, its more about wallowing in it. Everyone wants to know about your aches and pains. You are your aches and pains. Before I knew where I was, I felt as badly as the other old lasses. And them doctors prodding and poking and dripping ruddy stuff into me didn’t help. After a while, they had to give me a little thing over my face to breathe through, and then they wired up my front bottom so I didn’t even have to get out of bed to have a wee.
It was nice of people to come around with their grapes and lucazade, but best of all was having April May there holding my hand, and talking softly about old times. She was 60 now. My little Shirley Temple, 60!
I remember one afternoon the Salvation Army or some ruddy lot came in and started singing Christmas Carols. What the Ruddy Hell they wanted to do that for the Lord alone knows. It was still summer. Or was it? I couldn’t keep track. It was hot enough any road. It was a good thing that they kept giving me water to drink.
It was all very confusing… Was April May my sister? Was she my daughter? Did it ruddy well matter? She was holding my hand, and that was nice. And they were singing “Once in Royal David’s City” or some such ruddy nonsense. And then she wasn’t holding my hand any more. She wasn’t even there any more. But My Mother was. And next to her was my sister Pearl.
“Hello Doris,” Mother said. “Welcome to the other side…”

To donate to the Daisy Appeal a medical charity which helps people who live in the area where Auntie Doris came from – Please click here

A song from 1995 “You are Not Alone” by Michael Jackson. – Remember that…