Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #72 The King of Cups 16th-22nd March 2015

King cups

Look at him. He’s been sitting there with his great big cup in one hand and that thing with what looks like a bell on the end in the other, and he has let the ruddy tide come in all around him. But look at his face. He doesn’t seem bothered in the least. I reckon he has done it on purpose. He knows how deep the water is going to be, and he has had that stone platform built with his throne on it, just so that he can sit there for a few hours with the water splashing all around him. And why would he do something like that? Because he’s a ruddy man, that’s why. A slave to his obsessions!

It’s obvious that this one is obsessed by the sea. He has a fish medallion around his neck for a start. And there is probably something nautical about that ruddy silly hat he is wearing. It’s got wavy lines on it at least. And it is also obvious that he doesn’t give a monkey’s what other people think of him, because the hat has ear flaps an’all.

The sea looks pretty ruddy choppy though. There is even a fish that has been thrown above the level of the water, and a ship being tossed about a bit behind him.

I used to hate it when me and Raymond were having a snooze on the beach and the ruddy tide came in. We always used to wake up when our feet got wet, and then you would be gathering your stuff as quick as you could before it got ruined. Newspapers, People’s Friend Magazines, Sandwiches, Finest Virginia Hand Rolling Tobacco… none of them are much use when they are soaked in seawater and covered in sand. Same as tights, they are never the same again when they have had their feet dipped in the sea. You are always going to end up with gritty bits between your toes after that somehow. Even if you put them through a boil wash. If you are going to nod off on the beach, it is always best to settle yourself above the high tide mark if you can. Either that or do it on a tall stone plinth. Then again, in my experience, it is never possibly to get comfy enough to nod off on the top of a tall stone plinth. So there you are.

Any road, like I said. The king of cups has courted the situation, and he looks comfortable enough with his lot. In fact he looks ruddy well serene if you ask me. He might have investments in the cargo of that ship. He might be depending on that fish for a decent meal at the end of the day, he is certainly depending on the tide not coming in any further, but he is not letting any of it stress him out, If he does have a copy of the People’s Friend Magazine, or a few sandwiches, he probably has them tucked away under his cloak in a sealed waterproof bag, and you can bet that he hasn’t got one of them mobilized telephones either, so if anyone wants to get in contact with him and give him anything to worry about. They are just going to have to wait.

Four things that you might do this week. (i) Relax. Be serene. Don’t worry about a thing. ‘Cause every little thing is gonna be alright. Well… in the long run it is, any road. Look at me.. Ive been dead nigh on twenty years and it all came up roses for me. (ii) Have a picnic. It doesn’t have to be on the beach. It doesn’t even have to be outside. You can have it in your car, or in your garden shed, or at a ruddy bus stop. There is something nice about having your sandwiches somewhere different for a change. I would swear that they even taste different. Try it and you’ll see what I mean. (iii) While you are at it, have a snooze somewhere different too. Outside, in your car, in your garden shed, or a ruddy bus stop. Perhaps even in the bath, so long as you are careful not to get yourself drownded or anything. I would swear that it actually feels different, Try at and you’ll see what I mean. If you really can’t nod off, try having three or four small sherries. They usually do the trick. (iv)  Plan to be calm. Its easily done. Disconnect that ruddy telephone, turn the television off. Make as sure as possible that you are not going to be disturbed by high tides, or nosey neighbours, and enjoy a bit of peace. You deserve it. We all do.

Auntie Doris’s All Things Must Pass #6: Woman’s Realm

imageMy father used to say “a woman’s realm is in the home and not her husband’s counting house” What he meant was that she had to clean and tidy the house for him and do all his washing and ironing and cook his meals, and everything else, whilst he did what he considered to be important work, usually in the office at the Nonconformist Chapel where he was a lay preacher. I’m not sure what that important work was, but it probably didn’t have much to do with counting.

Not that I am saying that it was anything filthy mind. Not like most men and their “counting houses” which are full of ruddy magazines that they think that their wives don’t know about. No, my dad’s idea of important work was writing sermons to terrify people into behaving themselves in order that they would be saved from eternal damnation. His heart was in the right place I suppose, but not when he started taking it upon himself to punish sinners, by pinching their legs.
Anyway, I know that the whole idea of the woman’s realm being in the home is out of fashion, and not exactly textbook feminism. But in my opinion, men are generally such useless lumps that there’s no point in making the home their realm at all, unless you want it to go to rack and ruin.
Back in the day, any woman who wanted to make sure that her home ran smoothly had a ruddy good weekly magazine to help her take care of her realm. Woman’s Realm Magazine. It offered information and advice on everything, from how to make a successful cheese soufflé (as opposed to a failed cheese soufflé) or how to knit flecked wool cable stitch socks for the man in your cellar, (You wouldn’t want him looking at his ruddy magazines with cold feet would you?) through to hints and tips for home décor on a shoestring… Whatever a ruddy shoestring is when its all at home. Did they mean a shoelace? And if so how could you decorate your home on one of them?
The thing was, that when Woman’s realm was on the go, at least women were interested in things like that. Now it only seems that women only want to decorate their houses so that they can get on a property renovation television programme which is probably presented by some ruddy celebrity or other.
And ruddy celebrities are all that most women want to read about in their magazines. Ruddy celebrities injecting themselves with rubber solution glue to get rid of cellulitis or something, or having bad photographs taken of them in unfashionable swimming costumes by the same Pappa Asti photographers who hounded poor Lady Di to an early grave in a French subway station.
Any road, they stopped doing the Women’s Realm Magazine in 2001.
Thank the Good Lord that they still print the People’s Friend Magazine in Dundee. You can still get the odd knitting pattern and recipe in there, amongst the heart-warming fiction stories. Then again, people in Scotland do seem to have to have their heads screwed on a bit better than most of us south of the border. That’s why they don’t elect Tories up there.
I don’t know what my Father would have said now that a woman’s realm seems to be everywhere, including counting houses, chapel pulpits and the houses of ruddy parliament. I don’t think that he would have liked it. But he would have just had to lump it… because all things must pass.