Yes, I know. It seems incredible. However, it is true. The iconic serial about poor Andy, a man who stumbles from disaster to crossdressing disaster, all the time under the tender gaze of Davina, is now available free.
I was just getting ready to go out this afternoon, when a very distraught Max came and pleaded with me. I had my favorite heels on, and Hannibal was staring at me looking forward to his walk.
“You can’t make it all free,” protested Max, who has been handling our site rebuild.
“But my members love Andrea, and Davina,” I said. “We can’t just take it offline.”
“I don’t think I can separate it out,” he said pouring over some code. “At least not in a way that’s going to be easy to work with.”
“Then we’ll give it to our members free,” I said, and applied a little more lipstick. I have a spectacular crimson shade on today.
Enjoy the very best in crossdressing stories. There’s a new episode of Clothes Maketh The Man out later this week. Maybe Andrea is going to get a lucky break. Or not. Be sure to enjoy it when I post it later this week, free.
The other morning I walked into my kitchen and immediately knew something was wrong. I should explain that my morning yoga is a sacred time for me, and I let nothing interrupt it. Iâm only ready to start the day once I feel grounded and settled.
I usually follow my morning yoga with some tea, and a piece of toast, so I was surprised to find a deputation of some of my team waiting for me as I entered the kitchen.
“An odd choice of last words, Max,” said Mistress Meg.
Max, Katia and Mistress Meg fell silent as I entered. I glanced at them, and walked over to the kettle and put it on. To say the atmosphere was tense was an understatement.
âWell,â I said. âWhat are you all looking so worried about? Has someone died?â
Max, who was backed up against the wall looking a little scared, was the first to speak.
âMeg wants to hang me up by myâŠâ he faltered.
Then Mistress Meg cut in, âI want to hang him by his wrists and have Stacy give him a damned good strapping.â
Katia just looked angry.
âWhat on earthâs going on,â I asked. âMax, tell me whatâs the matter.â
Now, perhaps you remember that Max is my neighbourâs twenty year old son, and looks after much of the technology side of the work I do. Thereâs a surprising amount of work running the blog. He also manages my Patreon and a few other things, including entering Auntie Kittieâs content. Heâs our tame techie.
âItâs Patreon,â he said and everyone fell silent.
âOh yes. They recently named me as one of their top adult writing creators, didnât they?â
âYes, theyâve done very well from your Patrons. Youâd think theyâŠâ
âTell her what theyâve done, Max. Stop blabbering,â said Meg.
Max, who by now was close to tears, turned to Mistress Meg and said, âYouâre not the boss of me! Iâm just doing my best. You canât tell me what to do!â
Mistress Meg picked up a breadknife, rubbed her thumb against the blade and then said menacingly, âOdd choice of last words, Max.â
âI think perhaps we should all calm down,â I said gently. âNow, Max letâs sit in my study and see whatâs the matter.â
I took Max through to my study, usually my sanctuary away from others, and sat him down on the couch. His eyes were brimming over, and a tear ran down his cheek.
âItâs ok, Max. Just tell me what the trouble is.â
âWeâve been kicked off Patreon. They say our content is too adult.â
âWhat? Make up tips and hypnosis?â I said looking a little shocked. âOr was it that joke you said I should take out?â
âYou mean the one about stuttering?â
âYes, where I said that jokes about speech impediments were a big big âno noâ?â
âNo,â he replied. âI pulled that out before we posted that piece. Itâs more Mistress Meg and Katiaâs content. They say itâs too adult and they donât want it on their servers. But thatâs not the worst of it.â
âReally? What else is there?â
âWe have hundreds of members there. And theyâre not going to be happy. And Mistress Meg and Katia depend on the revenue from there,â he said clearly upset. âIâve let them down. And I think Mistress Meg might want to do something horrible to me.â
âMistress Meg does horrible tings to people all the time. Itâs sort of her thing,â I said softly. âI wonât let her do anything to you, donât you worry. She just want’s to look after the Seahorses.â
âI didnât mean to get us kicked. Really. I thought we were ok, but theyâve just clamped down.â
âDonât worry, Max,â I said soothingly. âWeâll take care of Patreon. If we have to be off it then Iâm sure our members will understand. We got along just fine without Patreon before, remember? Weâll just have to accommodate the members on the website.â
I thought about it for a moment and then said to Max, âMistress Meg is just concerned because her writing is more edgy. She probably thinks it really her fault. None of this is anyoneâs fault. Patreon are just trying to be careful.â
Max looked a little awkward for a moment and then added, âWell, thereâs more to it than that. I was thinking of saying we should get off it anyway. Some people feel itâs a bit of a scam. You should see the review of it.â
âWell, if thatâs the case then we should get off it anyway. Theyâve done us a favor. I want the best for my members,â I said.
Max stared into he distance and then said, âI can build a membership system on the site. We can ask Patrons to switch over. That way you can chat to them when they visit the site, using that chat window you use some evenings.â
âI love chatting with them,â I said. âNow, Iâd better go and calm down Meg and Katia. Donât you worry about a thing. Itâs not your fault.â
And with that I left and went out to the kitchen. It didnât take long to calm down Meg and Katia.
âWeâre just going to build a membership system on the blog instead,â I told them. âBesides that way we can service them much better. Patreon has never been that great. I know people canât find half the content you write, because their navigation is so outdated.â
Katia cut in, âYouâre right. Someone wrote to me the other day saying they couldnât navigate properly in their app. Half the time it doesnât work properly.â
âNow, letâs not be unkind to Max. Heâs going to have our website updated in a few days with a bunch more content for our members and weâll let everyone know exactly how to switch over to our website,â I said. âBesides, it gives us an opportunity to do more on the website itself, rather than someone elseâs platform. We can do even more cool things for our members.â
And thatâs why Iâm writing to you today. This has given us the great opportunity to improve the way we serve up content. Itâs also a heads up that Clothes Maketh The Man is soon going to be served entirely free. You probably know that the first 24 episodes are currently free, but that subsequent episodes have only been available on Patreon. Well, Iâll be making them freely available on FionaDobson.com in the next couple of days.
Now, if youâre a Patron youâll need to subscribe to one of the services here to continue your membership â and I want you to know how very much I appreciate each of you that does so. And if youâd just like to support the work my little team and I do then you can simply join for $1 a month in my Good Gurls membership here. You know how very much I appreciate each and every one of my members, and over the years weâve overcome hurdles like this plenty of times.
If youâd like to tell Patreon what you think of their decision to throw us off their platform, donât let me stop you. You can email them here: platform-support+id1217903@patreon.zendesk.com – It wonât change their decision but it might remind them that theyâre a bunch of homophobic self righteous dicks.
Donât worry. This isnât going to stop us delivering the very best crossdressing content, just as I always have. Now, I have to hide the cooking sherry. I can see Auntie Kittie coming up the drive, and if I donât sheâll be here all night.
What a strange time it’s been. Today in Vancouver we have the strangest light, as smoke from forest fires up and down the west coast fills the air. Visibility here is really quite terrible.
With Covid, and forest fires one can only think that a plague of frogs might be next. It does leave one wondering why more people don’t take climate change seriously. It’s going to get hotter and drier in the coming years, and if we don’t want this every summer we might as well get used to reducing carbon emissions.
Sylvester, my mechanic friend, swung by earlier, and told me how his week’s been going. Not much better than mine I think.
âIt took three of use, heaving and panting and sweating to get my erection up,â said Sylvester, my mechanic, sitting at my kitchen table and sipping tea from my finest bone china. Like many of my best friends he just appears in my kitchen sometimes. Like a big sweaty mechanic genie.
âIâm sure it did,â I said sympathetically. âNow, just tell me again, this âerectionâ, what is that again?â
There was a steady stream of water falling between Ali, my Syrian gardenerâs legs.
âAli,â I said. âWould you mind telling me what youâre doing?â
âAh, madam. Iâm watching Maxâs premature ejaculation. He did it for his motherâŠâ
I paused. Iâve learned thatâs a good idea with Ali. Iâm never quite sure if heâs serious, or just confused.
âHis water hose⊠Heâs got it hooked up to Google â that online house thing. It waters the flowers. Well, drowns them actually. Itâs coming on prematurely and the water pressureâs too high.â
âI see,â I said. I decided I had better talk to that English teacher of his.
I put my own success and good health down to my adherence to a strict and healthy diet. In Canada we have a wonderful chain of health food stores, called âTim Hortonsâ. Where ever you roam in this great land youâre never far from a healthy nutritious snack. In fact, I think it fair to say Tim Hortons has become a Canadian institution as identifiable as our polite nature, love of hockey and insistence that we elect a Prime Minister that doesnât have a serious personality disorder.
As you may know, my wife, Amanda and our neighbour Marjory, are traveling on an ornithological tour of Western Europe.
Amanda, my wifeâs appalling friend, has come down with a severe case of Canestin poisoning, which I understand is rare but not unknown in menopausal lesbians. I hasten to point out that I do not subscribe to Sylvesterâs view that when lesbians are exposed to large amounts of oestrogen they run a severe risk of having their ovaries explode. Sylvester somehow equates this to the idea that âmales have to masturbate at least once a day, or else their testicles burst into flame.â
In my kitchen with Sylvester, Bernard and Max, my neighbours son, I poured the tea.
âWhoever told you that nonsense,â I snapped at Sylvester.
âMy mother,â he said.
âSylvester,â I said in mock protest, âthatâs complete nonsense! We all know that Max has to masturbate at least four times a day to prevent such a mishap!â
Young Max blushed and pursed his lips. I smiled at him fondly. Since that embarrassing matter of the carrot, poor Max has been very subdued, poor lamb.
I made the mistake of asking Bernard how he was, since heâd only been out of the hospital a few days.
âItâs all these tests,â he said. âThey make me feel like a bloody pin cushion.â
âIâm sure the doctors are doing their best,â I reassured him.
âIâve become a slave to my prostate,â he said sounding downcast.
âArenât we all,â I replied a little uncertainly.
âIt seems to rule my life,â he continued.
âHow very awkward,â I commiserated.
At that moment the kitchen door was flung open, and in staggered Sebastian. He looked terrible, with a weeks growth of facial hair on his chin.
âGood God, Sebastian! You look like you got interrupted halfway through eating a raw porcupine. What on earth happened?â
Sebastian was shaking with energy. âJust got back from Mexico,â he shouted. His words word tumbling over themselves to get out.
âI did the ayahuasca retreatâŠIt was⊠It wasâŠâ he was stammering his words out, his voice shaking.
âI think youâd better sit down and have a glass of water.â I said.
I decided to call my sister, who works at the local hospital. To cut a long story short, she swung by and using the drug testing kit nurses often carry, she determined that Sebastianâs Ayahuasca retreat could more accurately be described as an LSD retreat. That, and that heâd probably spent the last five days sleeping in a burlap sack. Not bad for a cool $3000.
As my sister was leaving she glanced at Bernard, and said, âOh, Bernard. I didnât see you there. I didnât recognise you from the front.â
My sister does two shifts a week in Proctology.
This week I’d like you to take a good look through my Pinterest for some clothing ideas. As you know, I love my members to experiment. Have a lookand see if there’s anything there that takes your fancy. And before I leave you, I’ve a special request. Help our girlfriends at The Downtown Eastside Women‘s centre. They could use a hand. See the panel below for details.
Let’s make a difference this week. We’re appealing to you to help out some friends of ours. The Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre supports vulnerable women on Vancouver’s Eastside. Mostly these are people who have fallen between the cracks of society’s safety net. We’re focusing on this charity today because it’s in a cool city, it’s a cause I know my members will fall in line with, and because the big charities have the big advertising budgets – and the small ones are often overlooked. This is a small charity, and your gift will make a huge difference. You can support this charity by going HERE and giving something, however small, to help.
Nice Legs, Shame About The Face! Wise words from the early 1980’s. The last verse is the best one. You can always enjoy the Fiona Dobson Playlist HERE.
You are catching me at a very inopportune moment, so Iâm going to hope you can indulge me a moment. Here I am with my hands covered in a white solution â goodness, it getâs everywhere!
Let me explain. This morning, Sebastian was over getting ready for my daily yoga class, when I got a call from Marjory (Maxâs mother) from next door. She asked if perhaps she could come over and join our yoga class.
Now, I think you all know how important I find yoga. It really helps me get in touch with my feminine self. And wearing tight colorful yoga pants is just a bonus.
Naturally I agreed Marjory should join us, however she was not sure if she had quite the right clothes. I wouldnât want her colors to clash with mine so I sent Sebastian over to her place to have a quick look at what she was going to wear. This was a big mistake. To cut a long story short Sebastian now has a virulent rash which he seems to have picked up from Marjoryâs pussy.
I had no idea he was allergic. Fortunately he has some homeopathic tinctures in his first aid kit. Letâs hope this does the trick!
Have a great week, and remember, if you develop a nasty little rash itâs a good idea to treat it with plenty of lubrication, vigorously. And often. Itâll either cure it, or youâll go blind.
😊
Fiona
PS. If you are not a full member think about signing up –Â HEREÂ . When I see payment go through I will start you on your path. I work though everyone’s messages a couple of times a day and work to get you moving quickly. I know you’ll love it. Email me to let me know you’ve upgraded.
This music video simply has to be played. Thereâs a companion on here. Let me explain. In the 80âs we had some great pop bands. We also had some that didnât quite make the cut. In fact, The Reynolds Girls âIâd Rather Jackâ did get into the top ten on the music charts, but more recently rose to some fame as one of the top 100 worst pop records of all time. Personally I loved it. I love the energy and the girls sense of fun. They were so cool that they even did a reunion video in 2007 which is just painfully delightful and has to be watched. If only we could all be so honest and ready to enjoy life. Now, if you really want to elect a celebrity leader, why not one of these two?  For those who have been asking for a playlist of the music videos I use, it can be found here.
Few sights can be more disturbing than Amanda, my wife’s hideous friend, in a two piece bathing suit. It was this unsettling image that greeted me when I arrived home this afternoon following a photoshoot with Bernard at the advertising agency.
Amanda was in our back garden, trying to tan her body, in much the same way that if you leave a piece of leather in the sun it becomes hardened and cracked. As I let Hannibal, my little black and brown Dachshund, out into the garden to my surprise he sprang across the grass and made a leap to bite Amanda’s bikini bottoms. As you can imagine, Amanda’s scream was so shrill you’d think someone were cutting through concrete with a rotary saw.
âGet him away! Get him away,â she screamed. Never before has so much flesh been restrained by so little fabric.
I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, âCalm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.â
In response Amanda started to run round the garden, arms flailing, with a dachshund hanging from her bum.
âHannibal,â I mumbled, as I took another sip of my margarita.
âHe’s gone rogue!â screamed Amanda.
The last I saw of her she was flapping away down the street, hotly pursued by Hannibal, who doubtless thought it a great game. I suspect I’ll be hearing more about this incident later.
That however, is not the main reason I am writing to you. Tonight is a warm Montreal evening, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the latest Youtube version of Playtime With Fiona. This weekends offering is a special one, and a little unusual. I know you’ll love it. This weekend is also the perfect weekend to experiment with some lighter summer shades of lipstick, a summer shade of eye shadow, and of course some new outfits for the beach or lake.
Feel free to share some pics. Don’t forget you can always submit a photo for me to share on the website here: https://fionadobson.com/your-pics/
As you are probably aware I lead a strange and varied existence. Since Angelina has returned to Los Angeles, I’ve been very busy and had a houseful of friends today. As luck would have it my personal trainer, Sebastian, brought a friend of his over for my workout, and we opted to do something a little different. Â She was a delightful little thing and came to teach a yoga class.
This was wonderful, as I’ve recently bought some stunning new leggings, which when worn with a little pink tee shirt combines to make a lovely simple outfit. Misha, the yoga teacher also had cooked a delightful curry, which we enjoyed and then sat about talking for about an hour before laying out a few mats and beginning the class.
Now, I should point out that Sylvester, my mechanic, who had dropped by to help me with some lubrication issues, is something of a stranger to Yoga, but having enjoyed some curry, decided to join our little class. I also had Ali, my Syrian gardener join us. Bernard my photographer, happened to have come round for tea, still recovering from being Tazered and having a heart attack, also joined us. Â It really was a full house.
Max, my neighbors 19 year old son, who I must say I find spending far too much time goggling at me, also took time to join us. It was quite a lovely group. I have on many occasions lately, noticed how Max has been looking at me. I think he’s given himself one too many selfies lately, if you get my drift. Can’t be good for the eyesight!
Sylvester shifted uneasily as he took up a ‘warrior 2’ pose, and Misha cooed that yoga is all about fluid movements. Bernard glanced at Sylvester, who lurched into another position, and grunted that the curry was taking care of the fluid movements â and quietly slipped off to the bathroom.
Ali was looking off into the far distance, very serenely, enjoying every moment. When Sylvester returned he adopted a pose that resembled a shed in a car park, more than it did a yoga position. That said, his body is very muscular. Almost Neanderthal, actually.
Max, positioned behind me as I adopted a forward fold from the hips, stared with adolescent lust. I couldn’t help thinking of the many handed god Vishnu, and how Max wouldn’t mind being him about now.
We did enjoy the class and as it wrapped up Misha told us all how she loved the yoga lifestyle. She teaches and also has a small business selling soaps and perfumes. She’s a very creative young lady.
âI’ve even released my own fragrance,â she commented.
Looking very uncomfortable with the situation, Sylvester added that he had as well, and hurried to the bathroom once more.
Life really is never dull!
If you have not already signed up for the Premium Program please consider doing so. I have some great exercises and tasks in there for all my gurls. Â Before you know it you’ll have your ankles behind your ears and be enjoying fluid movements of your own!
I sincerely hope you are enjoying the news I share with you. You can participate and comment even more at http://FionaDobson.com
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Weâre experiencing a little bit of a cold spell here in Vancouver. I keep my house quite warm as I like to do yoga and workout in my large airy living room. Recently my next door neighbourâs twenty year old son, Max, has been joining me to do yoga and then study in the calm of this lovely room.
I was doing some stretches just this morning, when Max was there with his books. Heâs quite a diligent student, and is working on his Shakespearean era literature. He always seems to be here, with his nose pressed between the covers of a good book.
As I executed a perfect forward fold from the hips, I asked him if he had a favorite passage.
He looked at me thoughtfully, and then read from one of his text books:
When it lay fallow, smothered in dust,
Ignoble passion turned to lust.
And from his goodly wholesome thighs,
Came forth his manhood of great size.
And finding bended willing game,
He plunged himself into her frame,
With heaving buttocks and strong intent,
He thrust and ground till he was spent.
âWell,â I said, a little taken aback, âthatâs very nice, if you like that sort of thing.â At that point I felt I should return to my workout, and did so until the next interruption – my wifeâs appalling friend, Amanda phoning thinking my wife had returned from a business trip.
âIâm sorry, Amanda, sheâs still in Costa Rica,â I said.
âI donât blame her,â she replied. âProbably trying to get away from this cold snatch.â
âIâm sorry,â I replied.
âThis cold weather.â
âOh, I see. I thought you saidâŠâ
âItâs a cold snatch. Swept in from the north.â
âIâm sure it is,â I said and returned to my workout leaving Amanda to get on with writing this weeks breaking news for Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly.
Now, if youâre looking for some great gifts for yourself you may want to look at my special shopping list. You can find it here.
If youâre already a member of my Premium Program youâre enjoying some great offerings. If not, perhaps itâs time to sign up!
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Fiona
Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube.
Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?
Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:
 âImagine,â Julie said, âif our Little Black Book members could post a chat message with a pic of themselves right there.â
I should say that on Julie’s insistence we’ve been playing a very intricate game of Twister with Sylvester and Sebastian. Now, I must admit that while Sebastian is very flexible, Sylvester is about as loose limbed as a fridge. In fact, now that I think about it, I have compared Sylvester to a fridge on several occasions.
Julie, by the way has a very mischievous way of playing Twister. Itâs quite simple. She calls it Strip Twister, and one can only touch the floor with oneâs hands or feet. Any slip up results in the loss of an article of clothing. Now, imagine that image uploaded to My Little Black Book.
Max was so intrigued by the idea that he got to work on it and now we have exactly what Julie was looking for. You can now log in to My Little Black Bookand chat with others, and upload images of yourself in the middle of a Strip Twister game, or anything else you feel like.
Donât worry, the images scroll off after a while. You might post what you’re wearing right now, or how you’re doing some eye makeup or even a pic of your cat in drag, if that’s your thing… (Ilena!).
If youâre not already a member of My Little Black Book and would like to join the fun, why not go and sign up tonight. You never know whatâs going to pop up next!
Now, Sylvester is trying to get his leg over Julie. I think Iâd better intervene.
I hope youâve been practicing your makeup routine, in preparation for Halloween. So many crossdressers spend time on their clothes without realising that the most attractive thing a gurl can wear is a smile⊠preferably under a nice coating of YSL or Chanel lipstick.
Iâm emailing you having just returned from the heart unit, where I am happy to relate that Bernard is in the process of recovery from his rather unfortunate incident with a carrot. This is much to the relief of Max, who for a moment thought he may have blood (or rather carrot juice) on his hands after shooting Bernard with the aid of Sebastianâs motorcycle. If this is all a bit confusing you may be able to catch up here.
I arrived home to find Sylvester sitting at my kitchen table looking more confused than a Trump supporter who had recently learned that heâd won a months free food at Hooters, only to discover that he had to complete a skill testing question asking him to calculate the area of a square measuring 2 inches by 2 inches, before being eligible to collect his prize. I asked Sylvester what could possibly be wrong.
âItâs this business with North Korea. My dad was out there years ago, and that didnât go so well,â said Sylvester.
Now, in case youâve been living under a rock â which might be the safest place to be under the circumstances â then you might be unaware that people are talking about the possibility of nuclear war. At times like this one is forced to ask the big questions. âWhatâs it all for?â, and âIsnât there hope for humanity?â, and âWhat does one really wear for Armageddon?â.
As I looked down at my troubled friend, I was forced to conclude that one should always look on the bright side, and dress up for the occasion. Seeing Sylvesterâs legs, also brought something else to mind, and consider that this is a man who looks like a gorilla and a fridge got together and created a baby.
I am of course talking about the need to deal with body hair when one crossdresses. The need to look oneâs best supersedes all other considerations as the nuclear clock ticks toward midnight. Sylvesterâs legs are very hairy, and if one is to meet oneâs end looking fabulous either waxing it off, or at least disguising the body hair is a great place to start.
Not all of my members are able to shave their legs. For those who discretely dress without the knowledge of their partners, suddenly appearing without leg hair may be something of a give away. One member did successfully claim that their new swimming regime required them to remove as much body hair as possible, but this isnât going to fly for some members.
In the quest to disguise body hair the fishnet pantyhose are your friends. Better still, try a fishnet body stocking. No one should be without one, in my opinion. If youâre unable to find one locally, you can follow this link and order one on my website.
So, the question remains, faced with the unpleasant eventuality of nuclear annihilation, what would your outfit be? Personally, I think nice summer dress and some heels, pretty pink bra and panties. Feel free to let me know.
Now donât forget, you can now join My Little Black Book for just $2.95 a month by using this link – https://gumroad.com/l/mMgcZ. Be sure to let me know once youâve paid and Iâll get you set up.
Well, Iâm sure youâre aware of the latest events around Bernard being shot in the chest with a carrot â if not you can catch up here â which has left us all very worried about his health.
To get you up to date, it wasnât until several hours after heâd been carted off in the ambulance, following Max getting so upset about what he described as Sebastian and I doing yoga âdoggy styleâin my garden, that I managed to get through to the emergency department. The head nurse left me on hold as she went to see what had happened to poor Bernard.
Now, as you likely know, Bernard recently had a heart transplant following a Tazering incident, and we were all most concerned that he may have been severely hurt by the flying vegetable. Additionally, Max was getting increasingly worried about the idea that he may have committed a crime.
I had the phone in my kitchen on speaker, as Max and I waited to be transferred. I remember the moment in some detail, as I had just finished freshening my nail polish and I couldnât very well hold the cell. Really, though, that scarlet color is simply to die for!
I asked Max to paint my toe nails, as I waited on hold. I was standing there on one leg, my other foot on a bar stool, my tight leggings showing the well defined shape of my legs, as Max painted my toes. You know, you might think me a little cruel, but I do get a little thrill from the fact that his eyes would drift up my leg from time to time. Torturing the puppies is a secret pleasure of mine!
âIs that Fiona Dobson,â came the nurses voice.
âIt most certainly is,â I replied.
âYes, Ms. Dobson. Bernard has you listed as his primary contact.â
âOf course he does!â I said, attempting to keep the frustration from my voice.
âWell, Ms. Dobson, Iâm sorry to tell you thisâŠâ
At that moment Maxâs hand shakily managed to paint one of my toes.
âJust a moment,â I said, then turning to Max, âfor goodness sake, Max. Please be more attentive!â
I turned back to the phone, âGo on, dear,â I said.
âYes,â she continued, âIâm sorry but I have to tell youâŠâ
âMax!â I shouted, as he slipped once more. âDo be careful!â
The nurse continued, âIâm sorry but Bernard is no longer with us.â
There was a pause, and Max fell pale. I took the phone off speaker mode, and said to the nurse, âBut ⊠How?â
âHeâs no longer in the emergency department,â continued the nurse. âHeâs been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, heâs scheduled for heart surgery later today.â
Now, I am sure you know I am not an unkind individual. However, I do confess I thought briefly about leaving Max in his growing sense of panic. Mentally, he was already gathering a few things and ready to head to Mexico.
I arranged to visit in the morning, and hung up the phone.
âDonât worry, Max. Bernardâs having surgery. Iâm sure heâs got a good chance of a full recovery. It was a nasty accident, thatâs all. We can go to see him in the morning.â
With that, Sebastian entered the kitchen, doing his very best to be helpful. âI feel I should come, too. After all, it was my exhaust pipe from which he was hurt. I feel a kind of karmic obligation.â
âHow thoughtful you are,â I said. âMax, my nails arenât going to paint themselves!â
âPerhaps I could take him one of my nice recordings of relaxing sounds. Thatâs sure to make him feel better. Fiona, whatâs the most relaxing sound you can think of. Whale song? The sound of the wind through a forest?â
âI think the sound of the door closing as Amanda leaves my house following one of her visits. That always leaves me feeling better,â I said.
âI think whale song might be more relaxing,â murmured Sebastian.
With that we did our best to put our fears for Bernard to rest. Max continued to do my toe nails and we resolved to visit the hospital the following morning.
And so it was that we decided to visit the following morning, Max and Sebastian bringing both guilt and karmic balance, and I some perfectly painted nails and a rather smart pleated skirt.
Before I go any further I would like to say that like my valued members I stand with all our brave people serving in the military regardless of color, gender or race. I strongly believe that anyone who has ever been exposed to the realities of conflict knows very well, we have other more important things to get on with, rather than focusing on distractions that do nothing but further the questionable agenda of one sad old man. Our servicemen protect our rights and freedoms – which is kind of the point, isn’t it?
I’ve received several emails from members of the services who are members of FionaDobson.com. All I can do is reassure them that their service is appreciated and that this will pass. Calmer heads will prevail.
Now, let me see if I can give you the short strokes to get you caught up with the exciting happenings here in Montreal. You may remember last week, Bernard, my photographer, had been shot in the chest with a nefarious carrot. Unknown to me at the time Max had pushed the offending vegetable  up Sebastians exhaust pipe after becoming agitated while watching Sebastian and I doing yoga.
As the ambulance raced off Max sidled up to me, looking the picture of guilt ridden youth, and said “Fiona, there’s something you should know.”
I bent  down and picked up the carrot and frowned.
“What on earth is a carrot doing here?” I said, as the ambulance siren faded in the distance.
“Actually, I might know something about that…” said Max, where upon he told me the whole grissly story.
“But what on earth possessed you to put it there?” I asked.
“It was seeing the two of you in the garden. Seeing you do yoga, doggy style!”
“I think you mean downward dog. Well, these leggings don’t leave much to the imagination,” I mused.
At this point Sebastian, who had been inspecting his motorcycle for damage, wandered over.
“Pretty bad luck, that. You don’t often hear of someone being carroted to death.”
Several years ago a young man I was acquainted with had a nasty incident with a squash (that’s a marrow if you’re in the UK), but I thought it better not to mention it.
“You don’t think he’ll die, do you?” Asked Max.
“He was doing a pretty good impression of it, when he was choking here in the driveway, three minutes ago,” said Sebastian. “I always told him he should eat more vegetables.”
“He’s only just recovered from a heart transplant. I think the sooner we dispose of the evidence the better. Max, why don’t you get rid of that carrot and if anybody asks, the bike just backfired, Â ok?”
“Why?” Said Max, looking genuinely niaive.
“Because, Max, if the wrong people ask questions, someone might get the idea you accidently murdered poor Bernard.”
“Urgh! Murdered?” Gasped Max.
Sebastian interjected at this point, “I’m not sure you can ‘accidentally’ murder someone.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Stammered Max.
“Of course you didn’t. But anyone dumb enough to believe that Bernard was shot in the chest with a carrot is dumb enough to believe it was murder. It’s better all round just to say there was a bang and Bernard collapsed.”
I handed Max the carrot. “I suggest you feed the evidence to your rabbit.”
What an extraordinary week it has been, with the most exciting things happening about the place. But before I get into that, I will first answer a couple of quick questions from my valued members.
Yes, Ellie in Texas, when you have a costume party to celebrate your ten years NRA membership a piñata is a very suitable idea for a game, though we do not generally feel that putting ammunition in it as prizes is a very good idea. Perhaps crystal wine goblets or a decanter would be better.
Olive, in Halifax in Yorkshire, we find the best remedy is to plunge your plums in boiling water. Both Julie and I enjoy making jam, too! What a small world it is.
As we revel in a beautiful summer here in North America itâs definitely time to delve into your wardrobe and find a mini skirt. Whether itâs to do a private set of selfies, or get out in the park and brave going out in public, the summer gives us all a great excuse to expose our legs to sunshine and get a beautiful tan. Youâll find one of my very popular self hypnosis recordings that so many of you love right HERE. Of course, in the Premium Program thereâs many to help you along. If youâre already a member I hope youâre getting the most out of these. If youâre thinking about joining the Premium Program enjoy the self hypnosis filehere and see how you feel. Itâs likely to harden your resolve to getting into a lovely skirt.
And speaking of hardening my resolve, Sebastian my personal trainer was over at my place just yesterday. He came over to give me a yoga class, and afterwards he gave me a very enjoyable massage. I was out in the sun, in the back garden, with Sebastian rubbing some oils into my aching muscles, when I noticed Max, my neighbours 20 year old son, watching us from his bedroom window, which overlooks my garden.
I should point out that Max has shown growing curiosity about me in recent months. Heâs not quite sure what to make of me, I think. Either way, seeing Sebastian rubbing my thighs so intimately seemed most disturbing for him. Whilst Sebastian was hard at work, as it were, Max was suffering.
Unknown to me at the time, Max was indeed so agitated that he went downstairs to his motherâs kitchen, took a large carrot, and then went out into my driveway, and pushed it right up Sebastianâs exhaust pipe! Sebastian, I should say, rides a little Honda scooter. Itâs very cute. Not as big as Sylvesterâschopper, of course, but thatâs another story.
Nothing good ever comes from jamming vegetables places they shouldnât be. Believe me, I should know, my cousin works in an emergency room at the hospital. Anyway, after inserting his nefarious carrot, Max returned to his bedroom.
Sebastian was just finishing me off, (phrasing), and our yoga session was coming to a very happy ending. It was not a minute too soon, as Bernard, my photographer, was due at my place to discuss a shoot we have next week for one of the advertising agency clients. I like to work from home, and Bernard often drops by.
I was just seeing Sebastian off, when Bernard arrived. Sebastian straddled his scooter and hit the starter, just as Bernard was walking up my driveway. There was a phut, phut, BANG!
Next thing I knew Bernard was lying on the ground gasping and clutching his heart. You may remember he had a heart transplant just about a year ago, after an unfortunate Tazering incident at OâHare.
At first I thought the shock of the backfire had given him a heart attack. Then I saw the carrot, fallen to the ground, beside Bernard, who was by now convulsing and looking decidedly peeky.
âHold on, Bernard,â I said as calmly as I could. âIâll call an ambulance!â
He gurgled as first Sebastian and then Max, appearing from next door ran to him to help.
As I rushed inside Sebastian was telling Bernard that he wished heâd brought his homeopathic first aid kit. This didnât seem to comfort Bernard, who was gurgling and coughing up blood.
I called the ambulance from the phone Iâd left in my kitchen, and then hurried back to the increasingly pale form of Bernard lying in the driveway. He was reaching out in front of him, clutching at the air.
âItâs OK,â I said as calmly as I could. âThe ambulance is coming.â
âI can see a light,â said Bernard, his eyes glazed over.
âGo toward the light,â said Sebastian. âGo toward the light!â
âAre you sure?â I said. âI thought you were supposed to go away from the light.â
âTheyâre calling me,â babbled Bernard, still clutching his chest, but fading from pale to a blue color. With that he seemed to go limp and give a final sigh.
A moment later the ambulance pulled into my driveway. The ambulance service here really is very good, and they have such very nice uniforms.
They loaded Bernard into the ambulance. Max was flapping around like an old woman, fawning over Bernard, and looking terribly distraught. As the ambulance pulled away and headed toward the hospital, I thought he was going to run and get his bicycle and follow it. Even then, I realised something was amiss.
As the ambulance siren faded Max turned to me and said, âFiona, thereâs something I have to tell you.â
Now, Iâm going to tell you exactly what happened next in my next newsletter, because it really was so extraordinary. Letâs just say that the truth really does set you free, but at what price?
I hope you’re having a better weekend than we are!
😊
Fiona
Sebastian’s Health Tip For The Week: There’s no better way to get out and about and keep in shape than on a bike.
I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, âCalm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.â
couldn’t help thinking of the many handed god Vishnu, and how Max wouldn’t mind being him about now.
