Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 68 is out.

– Find Part 1 here – Chapter list here –

One of the men detached himself from the group and said, “Let me show you lovely ladies to your rooms.”

“Why all this cloak and dagger stuff,” I asked Annabel quietly as we were led to our accommodation.

“These are very secretive people,” she replied.

Annabell and I followed as our guide chaperoned us through the house, and down a tiled corridor, the atmosphere within feeling cool and comfortable after the heat outside. We followed, and when he opened a door and motioned me to enter a beautifully decorated bedroom I did so.

“You’ll find a few things in the closet here. A dress or two, a swim suit and a selection of shoes and things. Feel free to make use of anything you may find.” He smiled with courteous respect and as I sat on the bed the door closed as he left. 

Read on…

Mistress Meg wants to discuss the voices in your head.

As the voices tease you and taunt you, you realise you can’t fight them. You have to submit.

Finding you crossdressing, and ripping your blouse open I can only say I reveal you as you are. It’s time for you to stop pretending to be a man and to discover the real you. The ‘you’ that talks inside your head.” Mistress Meg

There are voices in your head.  They tell you how you want to wear panties and feel the softness of feminine clothes. And they’re getting stronger.

In this powerful self hypnosis exercise you will learn to accept the voices in your head. You will learn to comply with them. This brief hypnosis file should be used every night, and then loaded to your phone for use at intervals during the day.

Soon your feminization will be complete. Try the hypnosis file below and listen to it nightly for a week. Then let me know how you’re enjoying it.

Mistress Meg.

Find more Mistress Meg by joining the Seahorse Level.

Owasso Police Department fail to safeguard children.

Nex Benedict, a 16-year-old non-binary high school student, loved nature and watching the television show The Walking Dead. Nex enjoyed drawing, reading and playing Ark and Minecraft. Nex also had a cat, Zeus, whom they loved. Nex’s family trace part of their roots to the Choctaw Nation, and were on a journey to understanding more about Nex’s identity – like many other parents of transgender and non-binary youth. On February 7, 2024, Nex was brutally and viciously beaten inside a bathroom at Owasso High School in Owasso, Oklahoma, where Nex was a student. Nex was taken to the hospital and released, only to be readmitted the following day. On February 8, 2024, Nex succumbed to sustained injuries and tragically died.

Wondering where the police were during this incident? Yes, so is everyone else. You can call the Owasso Police Department at 918-272-2244 to ask them. Here’s their website – https://www.cityofowasso.com/161/Police-Department

Police Chief Yancey – public protector or coward?

You can ask the Police Chief why his staff are incapable for protecting children in his region by reaching out to him here –

Dan Yancey

Chief of Police

Email Dan Yancey

Phone: 918-376-1564

The Stories Your Mother Never Told You. – Mistress Meg.

There are stories which we choose not to share, for one reason or another. Perhaps it is related to shame or embarrassment. Or maybe we just hold them so dear, that in sharing them they would become devalued.

One of my visitors recently brought a rather unusual collection of note books with him when he came into my studio. He was an elderly man. I will not give many details as I do not wish to identify him in any way.

Wrapped in brown paper of the sort people used for parcels many years ago, these note books were dusty handwritten relics. I can well imagine them being tossed out with the trash when someone moved house, or recycled along with old copies of magazines when clearing out a loft or basement.

My visitor explained that they were among his mother’s personal papers in her house which he had inherited years earlier. For the purposes of this document we will name her ‘Valerie’. The papers had never really been sorted through as there was nothing of much importance there. Valerie had been well organised and secured all the financial documents with the family lawyer.

You will understand then that the contents of these papers were at first a mystery, then quite surprising — and ultimately quite shocking. The following is an edited version, mostly to protect the innocent, or not so innocent, and partly to keep the identity of my visitor confidential.

I would estimate the contents to have been written variously between about 1955 and 1973. I can only assume Valerie’s notebooks were written for her own satisfaction, or perhaps to one day share with someone completely unconnected with the events portrayed.

All that said, as you will doubtless see, the contents help explain her son’s unusual tastes in his personal entertainment. I should say that once he discerned the nature of the content he immediately stopped reading, having barely read the first few pages. At first he was unsure what to do with the material, even thinking of burning the precious documents. He said they made him profoundly uncomfortable.

My own interest was not so easily deflected. After studying the notebooks I decided on a rather different course. His particular interest was to be dressed and made to perform a number of humiliating tasks. Dressed as a young girl and forced to perform the duties (and personal services) suited to a young girl, he found a secret pleasure that surmounted anything else he had ever experienced. My assistant Stacy and I were always pleased to see him.

Over the coming weeks I would often have him perform certain tasks, culminating with him being made to stand in the corner, on pain of a firmly applied spanking, and then listen to stories read variously by myself or Stacy. The stories of course, were the contents of his mother’s note books.

Valerie had such a lovely expressive style. Really, it was a delight to read to my visitor. Watching him squirm, unable to ‘unhear’ his mothers lascivious words was a delightful form of mental torture, of the kind I find simply delightful.

So, having witnessed the profound affect these writings had on my visitor, I am now pleased to be able to share them with you. I should warn you this writing are what today we would describe as Not Safe For Work.

I hope you will forgive some of the editing. It’s been done to protect others, and wherever possible I’ve
maintained the spirit of this extraordinary lady’s words.

Mistress Meg.

Continue reading “The Stories Your Mother Never Told You. – Mistress Meg.”

It’s Friday night, so let’s do this…

Look, do I really need an excuse to post this? So, here it is. It’s for all my lovely members who’ve been so kind this last few weeks.

In other news…

Faith from Gender Rebels has a new book out. It’s worth reading. No, I’m not paid to say that.

“When 16-year-old Matt Baily is expelled from his evangelical Christian high school, he faces the prospect of going to public school for the first time. There he firstexperiences the world beyond the strict, conservative Christianity he has grownup with. When he befriends wannabe Warhol Superstar Michelle, he is finally able to share his deepest darkest secret with another person–he has always longed to be a girl.”

Looks pretty good. Get it here – https://riverdaleavebooks.com/books/5477/disgusta

I’ll be online on the site chatting late. Win a free membership by chatting to me and starting off with the words “I think I just stepped in some trump!”.

🙂

Fiona

Become a Patron!

Enjoy the Fiona Dobson Crossdressing Playlist below – it’s sure to put a smile on your face.

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My program for women is a fun way to explore crossdressing with a partner.

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Imagine, what a fun way to introduce your partner to crossdressing. My program for women helps you take a step by step approach to the feminization of your partner. You’ll lead them gently but firmly into a new and exciting role in your relationship.

With guidance weekly you can enjoy the process of helping your partner explore their sissy side, with or without their knowledge. Join my program and see what you can do to bring that sissie to heel.

You will look and feel more confident, more in control. They will give you the respect that you deserve, and be unable to resist.

I’ll help you set goals, choose outfits and even suggests ways to encourage her to be more compliant. After all, wouldn’t they look so much more suitably dressed in a nice maid’s outfit like this one?

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Purging – How to stop!

How to avoid purging your wardrobe.

Everyone struggles with this in the early stages of their journey. Those guilty moments of looking at a collection of clothes and saying to yourself ‘what am I doing?’, followed by throwing out sometimes expensive clothes.

You don’t have to do it this way.  There’s a few things that will help, and all you need to do is step through this simple process to remove the purging and save yourself some money. So, if you want to end that wasteful process, read this, and act on it. 

Step One.  Understand this is all about shame. You swing like a pendulum moving from excitement dressing, to shame and regret that you’re doing this in secret. You can start the process of getting past this by understand that there’s nothing shameless about this.  It’s simply a part of you longing for fulfillment. The simplest way to start getting over this is to using my hypnosis content.  Try this for a start.

Step Two.  You are going to need to start understanding what this is about.  If it’s more than a passing fetish (and it is if you’re really feeling shame), then you ae going to want to understand more about trans issues, and how it’s perfectly understandable and normal for many of us. You may not be a ‘woman’ but you may feel like one. That’s neither an illness, nor a sin. It may be a signal that there’s something going on you’re going to have to organise in your head. If you listen to some of the videos in my Featured Friends sections you will find that most of us are perfectly normal and reasonable people. We’re not freaks. We’re probably just like you. Below is a video by Contrapoints that’s a fun place to start but gives you some serious things to think about. Listen to it, and then come back to it again a day later and listen to it again. Understand it. This stuff takes time and is a lot to assimilate, but if you’re going to understand this stuff you need to do it.

Step Three. When you purge you’re probably tossing out hyper femme clothes you feel, in a moment of shame, are not ‘you’.  You’re going to change how you dress. Instead of buying some excessively feminine clothes, you can by more practical androgynous clothes that move you into a semi femme aesthetic. There will be time to buy the more femme clothes later. That’s not to say you won’t have any super femme clothes, but you will also have some nice simple androgynous clothing. Getting the pastel lambs wool sweater and the more feminine cut jeans will not arouse others concerns, but will allow you to dress in a more androgynous way any time you like.  Putting on a little eye makeup is all you need to present much more femme whenever you wish to. You’re not going to toss clothes like that and you won’t feel shame associated with them.

Step Four. This is not meant to be a hard sell. I don’t need to do that, and people in my programs know it’s not my way. However, to send your expensive habit of purging clothes you will help yourself enormously if you join my Premium Program, because it will help you learn more and accept more about yourself. This is all about understanding your gender, and accepting yourself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of about being who you are. So subscribe to the damned program and stop wasting money!

These steps will help, if you do them. If you don’t, well I’ll see you back here when you do it all over again, because this thing doesn’t just stop. It’s part of you.

FD

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Women who love to feminize their men.

She’s just waiting for you to unleash her.

The many women who love to feminize their men can now enjoy FionaDobson.com even more. I’ve recently started a new Premium Program just for my lovely women members.

If you’d just like to try the basic program for women you can do so free here.

In the meantime there’s still all the wonderful content from Mistress Meg about women who feminize their men.

For the best in step by step guidance on feminizing your man be sure to check out my program for women.

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There’s thrush in Marjorie’s bush.

I was a little surprised to see Ali in my garden this morning, spying over the fence in Marjorie’s direction, looking through an enormous pair of binoculars.  Now, you’ll remember Marjorie is Amanda’s lover.

It’s very cold at this time of year and much of the wildlife of the garden retreats into the foliage where it’s warmer. Ali takes a keen interest in such things.

I quietly crept up beside Ali and tried to see what he was looking at so intently.

“What on earth are you looking at, Ali?” I asked quietly, pulling my robe tightly around my body.

“It’s Marjorie’s pussy,” he whispered back.

A moment later Marjorie’s back door swung out and she came striding across the garden towards us, her impressive physique sailing toward us like a battle ship with sixteen inch guns primed and being brought to bare directly at Ali.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, arms crossed across her thinly veiled breasts and looking like thunder.

“I was watching your pussy,” said Ali.

Thinking I’d better diffuse the situation before the chill air exposed any of us further I invited Marjorie in for a cup of tea, and Ali joined us in the kitchen.

“I don’t much like being spied upon,” said Marjorie, as I poured the tea.  At that very moment Sylvester arrived and joined us in the kitchen. He placed hi enormous mug on the table beside our delicate tea cups, and smiled expectantly.

Ali piped up, “I’m not spying on you.  I was just checking out your pussy.” I do wonder about Ali’s language skills at times.

Sylvester smiled, and I shot him a glance hoping he’d get the message to behave.

Ali continued, “it was about to get the thrush.”

Marjorie looked livid.

“I’ve noticed they’ve been getting into your bush in this cool weather,” he added not helping himself very much.

I managed to calm Marjorie down, and assured her Ali meant no disrespect. It’s so easy to offend when dealing with such sensitivities. I suppose I have learned to be more careful in my language recently. Especially with all the talk about pronouns we hear these days. I do find that the best approach is to try and be as sensitive to others needs as possible. After all, in the end we are all just trying to get along as nicely and with as much kindness as possible. I do feel that is the approach that brings the best in good taste to our friendships and our relationships.

Indeed, I was feeling rather pleased with myself as we all enjoyed some Danish pastries and a lovely cup of tea and chatted. You’ll probably appreciate that this is one of my great skills. Bringing calm where there was agitation and disruption, before I arrived.

As I walked Marjorie to the back door when it was time to go she smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

“I’m sorry if I’m over sensitive, Fiona,” she said.

“Oh, don’t be so silly,” I said. I added, “Besides, it’s nearly spring – I can hardly wait to see your tits in the garden myself,” and closed the door behind her.

Have a lovely week.

Fiona

Sylvester needs some help polishing his chopper.

I couldn’t help thinking, as I clutched my banana, that Sylvester really could use a better diet. He seems to exist on burgers, and grilled cheese.

I was standing in his workshop, having dropped off a fruit basket, thinking it would add some welcome vitamin C to his diet. So many of my friends succumb to the cold during the winter, and I’m sure a fruit basket staves of the flu for many of us,and personally,  I find a good banana a lifesaver at times, don’t you?

I happened to have arrived at Sylvester’s workshop on a slow day at his business, and he was busying himself polishing his chopper. He was breathlessly working away at it, wanting it to be in great shape before the first days of spring.

Quite suddenly, I felt I simply had to help, so I found myself leaning over his great machine, polishing away as only a good gurl knows how. I must say, my tight leggings and my slim hands working away on the surface of the rich round pipe raised a few beads of sweat on my brow!

Sylvester becomes full of anticipation, during these final days of winter. He seems to become agitated at the promise of the excitement of the spring sunshine when he and all his big hairy friends can get together and show each other their choppers. It’s such a male ritual, that I feel quite intimidated by it all. It fairly takes my breath away.

Having said that, climbing astride a throbbing beast and feeling it thrust itself down the highway has always been a secret desire of mine. As a young thing my mother once caught me on a friends ride, and I can only say my cheeks were burning red with shame as she chastised me for my foolishness.

Yes, I’ve often inserted myself into the leather clad world of the kings of the road. And the queens for that matter.

That is not, however, the main reason I am writing to you tonight. I have recently put up a new episode of Playtime With Fiona. This one helps you get into a little shaving that will make you feel great. These are fun activities you can enjoy between tasks in the Premium Program, or even just when you feel like a little adventure. The video below is the most recent, however you can always find some here: https://fionadobson.com/tag/playtime-with-fiona/

Have a wonderful weekend, and if your excited about the onset of Spring be sure to polish up your equipment!

🙂

Fiona

Playtime With Fiona - Get out your razor and slip into something silky!
Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube.

Splashing out on lingerie.

Hi,

I have been treating myself to a few enjoyable gifts to myself lately. Victoria’s Secret, and one or two other places have been benefiting from my self indulgence.

On Wednesday, this week I asked Max, my neighbours twenty-year old son, to come with me to a lingerie store. This was admittedly partly to tease him, and partly to teach him a little lesson.  He’s been hanging around a lot lately, and seems to spend way too much time at my place. When I am doing yoga he seems to get extremely agitated. When I am working up a sweat he seems unable to stop watching at me.

“Max,” I said to him, “sometimes I don’t know what’s got into you. You spend so much time over here! You might as well help me with some shopping.”

I drove down to the lingerie store with him, and explained, “Things have been so hard lately,” as I smoothed down the skirt I was wearing.

“Don’t you ever feel like,” I searched for words, “…splashing out on some new underwear?”

Max seemed quite overcome by the thought. He carried my bags back to my car once I had bought some new items of hosiery.

Once at home, I took out several boxes of my underwear and asked him to help me sort them into colors and fold them nicely. He seemed very happily engaged in this task when there came a knock on the door downstairs. I asked him to go down and see who it could be.

Max took himself off and some minutes later, when he didn’t return I glanced out of the window to see him clutching at his stomach and heaving into a flowerbed in my garden. This wasn’t going to help the petunias. After all his efforts to keep them looking full and flowery, Ali, my gardener was not going to like that at all.

I opened the window of my bedroom and called down, “Max, are you all right?”

In reply he pointed toward the kitchen and called back “Amanda,” And then staggered off toward the gate to his parent’s house.

I groaned inwardly. Amanda, my wife’s obnoxious friend, had obviously slipped through the perimeter defences. I decided to go downstairs and see what the unbearable woman wanted. I slipped into pair of gender neutral yoga pants and descended the stairs.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy,” Amanda blurted out as I entered the kitchen. Apparently she had got away from work editing Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly a little early today.

“What did you do to the poor lamb, Amanda?”

“I just asked him to help me with something. You see, I’m taking some pain medication for my back. Anyway I’m supposed to,” and at this point she lowered her voice, “use these.” She pulled a package from her sac like handbag.

“And what are these,” I asked not wishing to get too close.

“Suppositories,” she relied, and my stomach turned over.

“And you wanted Max to help you with them?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied in a matter of fact voice. “They’re supposed to bring my temperature down. It’s a side effect of the medication, you see.”

“You don’t think that’s a little odd?” I said, my mind reeling as I stared at the pack on my kitchen counter.

“Is that even a thing?” I made a note to Google suppositories and temperature.

“You don’t understand,” she stammered as though suddenly realising she’d made a horrendous mistake.

“Amanda, I really don’t think you can ask young Max to…”

“It’s the packaging. I can’t get it out of the blister pack,” she protested, suddenly realisng there had been an unfortunate misunderstanding.

“There are some things, Amanda, you just can’t ask people to do!”

“I can’t open the packaging, it’s my fingers. Not with my arthritis!” she protested.

“All the same,” I said doubtfully. “I think you may have scarred Max permanently. He looks pretty traumatised.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped. “You don’t think he thought I wanted him to…” Amanda looked horrified.

“Yes, I do, Amanda. I think you may have left a very damaging and lasting impression on his fragile young mind.”

However, all this is not the main reason I am writing to you this evening. We’ve got some great new content on the website here: http://FionaDobson.com and I’d love to see your comments and questions about it. Go right ahead and make comments on the site, and I’m thrilled to answer them.

Have a great week and remember not to let your temperature get too high.

Fiona

When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go.

Sylvester informs me that should I ever be caught in an avalanche, I should make a point of peeing myself, so I can figure out which way the gravity takes the pee, and then I will know which way is up, and which down.  As you know, Canada has been having some quite hard weather recently, and such pieces of information are very helpful to know.  However, I do have a problem with this.

First of all, I don’t think I’ll need any reminding to piss myself if I’m caught in an avalanche. I really don’t! Second, I’m not sure knowing which way is up is going to make a great deal of difference if I’m under a hundred tons of snow at the time.

Sylvester tells me there was one man who was caught in an avalanche in his car, and drank 48 beers while he was trapped in his vehicle which had been rolled over and buried under the snow. He arrived home later covered in urine and told his wife the whole story. Frankly I think he probably made the whole thing up. It sounds to me like a pretty good Friday night out after work at the advertising agency.

I am currently working on a very interesting report for the advertising agency called “Understanding Women Who Love to Feminize Their Men. The Dobson Report.” This will soon be available to my Seahorse members.  For those who join my Patreon at the $1 a month level I will make it available as well just for the next 6 weeks.  I should be complete with that report in about a week. So, there’s a great reason for you to either join my seahorse level, or my Patreon if you haven’t already done so.  In the meantime I want to thank all my Good Gurls, and my Seahorse, Unicorn and Premium Members. I couldn’t do what I do without your support.

And speaking of support, I have recently shelled out for a new phone for Auntie Kittie. She has one those fancy phones that are tethered to the wall to prevent them being stolen. She asked me to buy her a new one because something called ‘the rotary dial’ broke on hers. It all sounds far too technical for me.

Have a lovely week.

Fiona.

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Featured Friends – Leeja Miller

From Anita Bryant’s crusade against the gays, to the infiltration of the religious right and moral majority into presidential politics via Reagan, to the election of Donald Trump and the growth of the white supremacy movement in the United States, the anti-trans fervor gripping the United States is the culmination of many disparate hateful groups and movements coming to fruition all at the same time. This is Why Conservatives Are So Obsessed With Trans Kids.

Support Leeja on Patreon HERE.

Come and sit on my Zamboni.

Hi,

I am out of breath as I write this. I’ve only just got home after a most disturbing incident. I feel I have to write and tell you about it.

The day started calmly enough. I did my early morning yoga class, and then as I sipped a morning coffee I watched Ali, my gardener, picking figs from a tree I have in the garden. He really is a treasure, and as I went out to check on my bees, who are prodigiously working away producing honey, I could hear him humming a strange tune.

I am finding these summer mornings delightful. It’s my usual practice to wear something simple – a plain tennis skirt, some wedges, and a pastel top. I like to keep things very simple. My brightly colored nail polish sets it all off rather stylishly.

Ali glanced round and saw me in the garden and then fell into silence for a moment.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, and carefully selected a juicy fig and handed it to me. “Such a health food, and a perfect one for you.”

“I do appreciate healthy foods, Ali,” I mused as I bit into the succulent fruit.

“That must be how you keep so trim,” he continued. “And is it not written that it is easier for a fat man to enter the kingdom of heaven, than to pass through the eye of a camel.”

I frowned and said, “I don’t think it is written. At least nowhere I’ve read it.”

I do wonder about Ali’s English. He was a professor of botany in Syria, before the terrible crisis over there. However, since coming here he’s been studying English. I’m not quite sure where his difficulty with English begins and his sense of irony ends. I added, “However, that is a perfect fig.”

It really is peaceful in my garden. The ripe fruit and soft early morning sun on my face reminded me how very fortunate I am to live here. Canada is truly a blessed country.

Picking up my bag and cell phone I decided to make the most of the morning, and took Hannibal, my dachshund, for his morning walk. As I strolled down Huckleberry Close I got a call from Sylvester, who has been learning to drive the Zamboni at the local ice arena. He’s really becoming quite skilled. He called to ask if I wanted to have breakfast with him at a café nearby. Naturally I agreed. They do the most delightful croissants, orange juice and coffee. The mother of the family that runs the café keeps bees and brings in her own honey. It’s really most delightful.

And so as Marjory was leaving for work, rather than drive I asked for a lift and rode with her the three miles to the arena, where she dropped me and decided to join us for breakfast. I think that after some years Marjory is warming to me. She still finds me a trifle odd, but she’s been a lot more settled since she started dating my wife’s childhood friend, Amanda.

Marjory and I walked into the huge ice arena, and there across the rink was Sylvester driving the Zamboni. The cool air wafting off the ice was a welcome relief from the heat. When Sylvester looked up he recognized Marjory and I and stopped the big ice grading machine.

“Come on over,” he shouted across the ice. “You want a ride?”

I’ve never been on a Zamboni before, so Marjory and I gingerly stepped out on the ice and tottered across to the vehicle. For those not familiar with the Zamboni, it’s a vehicle driven on an ice rink to resurface the ice. We do this so that the hockey games are played on a very flat surface. Ice has small crenelations if not properly smoothed making it unpleasant to skate, and the Zamboni does the job very well. Sylvester has been learning the skill recently, and now does the occasional turn at the arena cleaning up the surface for the skaters, and preparing it for the ritual slaughter of foreign hockey teams that keeps Canadians so amused. Really, it does. And they just keep coming back for more!

I stepped up onto the vehicle, my little tennis skirt riding a little high as I did so. Marjory followed me, looking a little bemused, and then Sylvester was off and driving around the ice, leaving a smooth glasslike finish behind us.

Now, keep in mind this was very early in the morning, and through the large windows out in the deserted car park I could see Marjory’s solitary car. As we rode around the ice I noticed someone was doing something to Marjory’s little car. The next thing I knew, the car was pulling away toward the exit of the car park.

“Marjory,” I said. “I think someone’s stealing your car!”

She looked out of the window, and sure enough, she shouted, “My car! My car!”

With remarkable composure Sylvester swung the big machine around toward the huge doors of the arena. He hit a remote control and the doors slowly began to open. I have to say I was most surprised at the turn of speed the Zamboni then displayed. Accelerating toward the opening doors Marjory and I clung on to our swarthy friend as the Zamboni flew off the ice and started out across the car park.

“Don’t worry,” said Sylvester, his hair swept back in the morning air as we raced across the car park. “I’ll catch him!”

The little car was exiting the car park and moving out into the slow moving morning traffic. Sylvester piloted the Zamboni skillfully out into the road and we shouted after the car thief, who was becoming increasingly ensnared in the traffic as we maneuvered between lanes, to the surprise of other drivers.

While Marjory called the local police, I hung on to the Zamboni and Sylvester steered us skillfully between cars with startled drivers looking incredulously at us as we navigated down the road in the ice smoothing machine.  It’s really not the sort of things you expect to see on the morning commute in 32 degrees of heat (89 degrees Fahrenheit).

As the cars ground to a halt at the traffic lights ahead, a police car appeared and started cutting through the traffic. Marjory was talking to the emergency operator, who relayed her instructions directly to the police cruiser.

A moment later the traffic stopped, police car on one side of Marjory’s car, and Zamboni halted flush with the drivers side. Marjory’s little car was completely boxed in. It was at this point that I decided it might be wise to make myself a little scarce. With a smile to Sylvester and a polite wave to the car thief, who was trying in vain to open the car door, I slipped of the Zamboni and made my way to the sidewalk.

As I left I could hear the sound of other sirens. Likely this would turn into a dogs dinner of police and press and god knows what.

At that moment the appalling Amanda called my cell.

“What on earth’s going on with Marjory? I’m trying to phone her and it just rings and rings,” she said sounding both annoyed and annoying.

“Ahh…. Her phone’s probably in her car.”

“So?” came the reply.

“Well, nothing really…” I wasn’t going to get into that with Amanda.

So, next time someone asks you if you’d like a ride on a Zamboni, keep in mind it may not go the way you planned. So much for breakfast! I’m sure Sylvester and Marjory will be occupied for a while there. I felt it best to hurry home to my kitchen, where I am writing this to you now.

I hope you’re enjoying the site. If you’re not, just come back a couple of days later and you’re likely going to find a whole lot of different content!

Have a lovely week,

🙂

Fiona