Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #70 the Five of Cups 2nd – 8th March 2015.

5 Cups

Whoops a ruddy daisy, someone has been a butterfingers haven’t they? Three cups spilled all over. Red, White and Rosé by the look of them an’all. But they were obviously big heavy cups, too much for one person to manage comfortably. And never mind, dear, there’s still two left. The thing is, they obviously do mind, don’t they? They have their back to the two full ones and are just gawping mournfully at the spilled ones. Nobody likes a mournful gawper though. My advice would be turn around, pick up your full cups, thank the Lord that you still have some left, then forget about the other three and get on with your ruddy life. The clue is in the picture, it’s all water under the bridge.

So it’s staring you in the face. This card is about coping with loss, and moving on. I was devastated when my Raymond trod on my Hairy Mary. She was my little comfort, and it always made me feel better when I gave her a stroke. Then that clumsy clot trod on her when he was getting out of bed one morning, and killed her. My lovely little Yorkshire Terrier.  It was a big loss and I could only cope with the grief by encouraging my Raymond to share the pain by regularly hitting him over the head with my soup spoon “dreadnaught.”

But then he died an’all, and the house was safe for little doggies again, so I got Madamoiselle Tuppence, and life gradually regained its sweetness. I could cope with the stresses and strains of daily living by sitting on the settee and tickling my Tuppence. She was my companion until the end of my days in the land of the living. My Hairy Mary was all water under the bridge.

And if you really can’t cope, there is always religion. See, there, over the stream, there’s a little church. Of course, as far as I am concerned, the jury is still out on religion. I’ve been dead nearly 20 years and I still haven’t had any evidence one way or the other. But then it always has been a matter of faith. I never had all that much myself, knowing what filthy so and sos them vicars can be. But that’s what with them being men. And as we know, all men are filthy so and sos, whether they are vicars or not. But these days women are allowed to be vicars an’all, and women tend to have a bit more sense than men. That being said, it begs the question, why would they want to bother being vicars. I don’t suppose that I will ever get to the bottom of that one.

Four things that you might do this week (i) Get down off the fence and nail your colours to the wall. What are you? White, Red or Rosé. Myself, I am a sort of Sherry Brown. It is worth knowing though. Just in case anybody asks you what you are having. (ii) Count your blessings and smile. Never mind about what you might have lost. Think about what you’ve still got. (iii) Life is always better if you have something to stroke while you are sitting on the settee. It may be a gerbil, a guinea pig, a cat or a dog, or even a cock or a beaver, although one should always bear in mind that some creatures are more relaxing than others. The secret is to find something that responds well to a tickle. (iv) Make your peace with your religious figurehead, whether its Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha or whatever. Make your peace with them, and then say, thank you very much, but I am not doing any ruddy violent nonsense in your name thank you very much. And if you don’t like it, you ca ruddy well lump it. These religious figureheads are all well and good, but you would do well to show them who’s boss and keep them in their place, and if saying that means that some soft so and so is going to seek me out and gun me down in cold blood, then so be it. He’ll have a job on any road. I’ve been dead for nigh on twenty years.

Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week. #66 The Four of Wands – 2-8 February 2015


Well.. one of us has got themselves in the family way, and its not me, I’ll tell you that for nothing. So if its not exactly you,  its someone close to you. And if you don’t know anyone close to you that’s in the family way, then they haven’t told you yet, probably because it was more than likely unplanned. Any road, you had better get those knitting patterns for bonnets and bootees out and get ruddy well cracking.

How do I know? well its simple when you know your cards. Four strong staffs, bursting with goodness, standing vertical. Someone has had the idea that if you do it standing up, you cant possibly conceive. Obviously that’s a load of old nonsense. Have you seen the length of those things? They are like them ruddy exocet rissoles. They can accurately place the gravy within a fraction of a millimetre of an egg whether the parties concerned are horizontal, vertical diagonal, inverted, animal, vegetable, or mineral. (although I’m not sure that you can get mineral eggs, but you could try boiling them in mineral water – whatever that is, when its all at home) The standing up method of birth control may work with men of a certain age who haven’t got the stamina to remain in the upright position for very long and do not scatter their seed with quite the same gusto as the young men in the parables, but I wouldn’t risk it, even with my Raymond, and sometimes he couldn’t even hit a dinnerplate with his gravy, especially after a Sunday morning Session at the Rose and Crown. Many’s the time I had to put the tablecloth on a boil wash.

Any road, just because its unexpected, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a cause for celebration.  There’s the happy couple in the background, waving their pom-poms about.  Of course, sometimes the ruddy bloke makes himself scarce as soon as there is a whiff of nappy in the air. Like My sister Pearl’s chap, American soldier he was stationed round here during the war. Took her for a magical weekend in Blackpool, but as soon as he realised she was expecting he had scuttled off back to Cincinnati, probably before his wand was properly dry. Pearl was left to look after Little Walter, although my mother pretended that he was hers, so nobody found out, but they had their suspicion when Pearl married Uncle George and “adopted” him.

Four things that you might do this week. (i) Invest in some protection. There’s allsorts you can get nowadays for both men and women. Even things made out of goats bladders for people who are allergic to rubber. Although If my Raymomd had ever come at me with a goat’s innards wrapped around his thing I would have hit him on the end of it with a spoon quick sticks. I’ll tell you that for nothing. (ii) Invest in some knitting needles and some pink or blue wool. You can easily determine the sex of an unborn child by putting your keys on a shoelace and twizzling them over the woman’s belly. If they go clockwise its a boy, anti clockwise its a girl. Unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere, where its the other way on, like most things are in that part of the world. (iii) Invest in a decent gravy boat to increase the chances of hitting the plate rather than the tablecloth. But why ever anyone would want gravy on their eggs, The Lord alone knows. Save it for Sunday dinner. which is a good rule of thumb for many things in life. (iv) Invest in a plastic tablecloth, they do all sorts of designs these days, and they just wipe clean, which is better for the environment than adding to global warning with boil washes. Get some plastic mattress protectors while you are at it. I think that they also make mattress protectors out of goats bladders. The filthy so and sos.