Rainbow’s sitting on my right hand at the kitchen table.

I’m so pleased to be able to write to you, in these troubled times it’s so good to be able talk to others just like myself. Perhaps you too get frustrated by the pace of modern life coming face to face the slowed down life we now lead due to Covid. Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help.

On the site there’s a host of content to help you get through the day, as well as some great hypnosis files that will help relax you. Just explore and you’ll find a ton of it.

Before I go on I should answer a query that’s come in from one of my members, Mildred from Colorado Springs.  In reply to her I have to point out that Minsk is a coastal city in northern Russia and not how a Russian drag queen walks down the street. I’m glad to have cleared that confusion up.

I also want to remind all my Patreon Members that you get a great part of the Patreon site that few people are really aware of.  There’s a community aspect here where you can post pics and even connect with other members. When you’re a member just go here – https://www.patreon.com/fionadobson/community  to participate.  It’s a lot of fun.

Life in Huckleberry Close is a little muted these days, as people reduce the number of people they’re seeing – reducing their ‘bubble’. Well, as inconvenient as it may be, I think we all understand that this is necessary. Personally I am using this time to get a little fishing in – socially distanced of course. I’m also enjoying reading a few more books than usual. It’s a chance to do some of the things I don’t usually get time to do.  For the moment I just don’t really feel comfortable with the idea of going out to restaurants, or getting on a plane.

Sadly Rainbow, who teaches at a local yoga studio, has been laid off, like so many others in that type of work. She’s asked me to help her with her resume and to help her apply for a few jobs. I asked her what qualifications she had, and if she’d graduated.

“Of course,” she replied while sipping her home made kombucha in my kitchen with Ali, my gardener, and I. “I have an advanced degree in Enlightenment with a minor in Colonic Irrigation from the Healing Light Yoga And Ayevedic Academy. I’m really not used to being unemployed.  It’s almost as if my spiritual GPS is not functioning.”

“Well, I’ll try to help, darling,” I told Rainbow, feeling a little doubtful that those were skills that are in particular demand at present. “Perhaps Sylvester knows someone. He’s quite well connected in Little Italy.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s the area around Patel’s Pizzeria, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said helpfully. “He’s quite big in the business community there.”

Now, you’re probably wondering why that part of town is called Little Italy. You wouldn’t be the first to think it was because of the profusion of immigrants from years back. It’s got more to do with the fact that it changed sides three times during the second world war, though. A very confused part of town, you’ll agree.

Ali listened sympathetically to Rainbow describing her difficulties finding work.

“I sometimes feel like the goddess Kali has cursed me,” said Rainbow.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Ali sagely. “I mean, it’s not as if she’s going to chase you down the high street beating you with her many arms and laying about you with that nose, trunk, thing of hers. It’s not like she caught you drinking Coca-cola instead of your usual distilled water, after all.”

“I don’t think the goddess Kali would curse Rainbow for that,” I said to Ali, unsure if he was teasing her. I am most concerned that his English lessons sometimes miss the mark a little.

“You’re right Fiona,” agreed Ali. “Perhaps Sylvester has something for Rainbow in his workshop. After all he runs a very tight shipwreck.”

I look skeptically at Ali. It’s taken him time to settle into the ways of Canada which are a little different to those of his native Syria.

In these difficult times we are all making adjustments.

Now, I want to tell you all about some spectacular Mary Janes I have recently tried from Glamour Boutique, my favorite online store. First of all, the quality of these shoes is faultless. They fit my size 10 male, size twelve female, feet perfectly.  When I recently stopped by The Junction in Vancouver’s Davie Street, the boys were all very complementary, with comments ranging from how elegant they looked, to how good they’d look beside my favorite server’s bed.

These are a patent leather shoe, with a four inch heel – I can best describe it as being a heel size that say’s you’re somewhat innocent, and yet at the same time accessible and possibly a filthy little crotch ferret, much like myself. The dainty strap is equally at home being undone hurriedly after a night out, or being released by a lover’s teeth in a frenzied moment of passion.

Have a good look through Glamour Boutique’s site and be sure to mention my name when you order them. They’re a great company, reliable and always on point with quality merchandise. You need never feel awkward contacting them, and discretion is their watchword.

Now, I must get back to work. Sebastian, my personal trainer, is coming to give me a workout soon. He tells me he’s got an exciting new exercise regime he wants me to get into. Or vice versa. Something like that.

😊

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona.

Let’s shove it up a Proud Boy today.

My gardener, Ali is a Syrian refugee. He’s a lovely man, and he and his family are making a go of things in Canada, and doing exceptionally well. His girls are doing so well at school. When I recently asked him what he thought of ‘Proud Boys’ he said that while his home country was not very tolerant of their lifestyle, he personally felt that people’s lifestyle choices are their own affair.

Ali’s English is sometimes not quite what it might be. He’s been here a few years now, but he still sometimes struggles a little. He has become firm friends with Sylvester, my mechanic and confidante, and I commented on it recently saying how pleased I was that they get along so well.

He replied, “Ah, yes. Sylvester. He’s a very good person. We get along like a horse on fire.”

Which reminds me, I must chat with his English teacher. I believe Mistress Meg is acquainted with him – Professor Longstaff. If you follow my Patreon as a Seahorse you’ll have read about him.

“But Ali,” I said. “Surely you don’t agree with Mr. Trump, embracing the Proud Boys.”

He looked at me with some doubt in his careworn face.

“As I said, Mr. Trumps lifestyle choice is his own affair,” he replied. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

I sometimes struggle to understand if Ali is teasing me.

“But what about all this “Stand back and stand by” business?” I said pressing on in what I was beginning to feel was a pointless exercise.

“’Stand back and stand by’? I thought they said ‘stand back and bend over’!” said Ali.

I gave up and left him to continue raking up the fallen leaves. Don’t you just love the fall? You can find some fun fall clothing ideas on my Pinterest HERE.

Don’t forget to sign up for my Patreon and help me keep shoving it up the Proud Boys… I think you know what I mean.

😊

Fiona

PS. Don’t forget the Fiona Dobson Playlist.  It’s sure to uplift and help you through the day. Enjoy it here.

What are you going to catch this fall?

As this month draws to a close I am forced to reflect on a couple of things.  The first is that as I look forward to the fall I know that all the lovely clothes I like to wear with browns and the russet colors of this time of year are ready to replace the summer clothes I’ve been wearing.  A long skirt with earth tones looks so nice. I’m looking forward to putting together some new outfits along a fall theme.

I should also make a quick correction in the advice I recently gave to my member Mildred, from Colorado Springs. When I suggested a pair of sugar tongs can easily be used to pull fur balls from a cat, I should have pointed out that these are in the cat’s throat. I’m glad I’ve cleared that one up.

Sylvester appeared in my kitchen today just as the coffee was percolating. He was full of himself, freshly back from a trip out of town, with my neighbour Marjory and her girlfriend, Amanda (the queen of tweed). This unlikely trio spelled trouble, without a doubt.

Like so many other businesses, Sylvester’s workshop has seen a little bit of a slow down during this Covid period. People seem to be travelling much less, and so they need less work on their vehicles. A mechanic’s life is not an easy one in times like this. Having said that, poor Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, is teaching no yoga classes at all, and her usual way of supplementing her income by waitressing is a total washout. I suppose we should all be as supportive to anyone in the hospitality trade as we can.  I shall bake Rainbow a nice gluten-free peach cobbler, which is sure to make her feel better.

I poured an ethically sourced coffee for Sylvester and myself, pulled the grey blue satin wrap I was wearing around my body, exposing my recently shaved legs and contemplated my pink fluffy slippers as Sylvester stared at his phone. Don’t you think it so rude when people spend more time staring at their screen than the person they’re with? Sylvester can be really quite coarse at times.

“Marjory took this great photograph, have a look,” said Sylvester passing me the device.

I cast a critical eye over it.

“She’s not a bad photographer,” I said looking at the picture of Sylvester fly fishing.

“Yes,” replied Sylvester admiring the picture. “I think she really caught something there.”

“Yes. Covid, perhaps. Or Chlamydia, more likely.”

Sylvester looked a little crestfallen and said, “It’s not like that.”

“Of course it isn’t.” I replied. I’ve made no secret of my disapproval of Sylvester pursuing Amanda. The poor sap seems completely unable to control his desires.

“Though, I must admit,” he continued, “if Marjory wasn’t on the scene…” His voice trailed off and he stared into the distance lost in thought, before adding, “I can imagine making sweet music with her.”

“I’m sure you can,” I said skeptically. “Perhaps she could be the clap machine.”

But all this playful banter is not the main reason I’m writing tonight. It’s to suggest that if you haven’t already joined my Patreon it would be delightful to see you in there. You can join for as little as $1 a month.  If you’re already a member, thank you for making this blog possible. I’d love to lift my Patreon membership to over 175, and try as I might I don’t seem able to crack that number. With your help I’ll get there in the end.

One last note… Yeah, we’re in a second wave. Here in Canada, in the UK and in the US. Don’t be a Covidiot. Mask up and enjoy the ride. Here are some cool ideas to help. https://youtu.be/wJu9EyPK8gw and https://www.pinterest.ca/fionadobson22/masks-with-style/

Have a lovely weekend and stay safe.

Fiona

Become a Patron!
Become a Patron!

Getting Astride Sylvester’s Boner.

What a creative group of people I surround myself with, I thought to myself as I sat on Sylvester’s boner. It was shaking this way and that, the vibrations rising up through my body in a very unsettling manner.

 

Sylvester’s workshop has all manner of strange things in it. He is quite the amateur inventor. He’d called me earlier that day, excited about his new development. Naturally, I hurried over to his workshop to see what the fuss was all about.

As I arrived Bernard, my photographer, was pulling up.

“He want’s me to photograph it,” he said as we entered the workshop. “Say’s it’s an historical moment.”

As we arrived Sylvester stood beside a large cube shaped object. I thought it might be a washing machine, though it was covered with a sheet. Suddenly, with a great flourish, Sylvester swept away the sheet revealing a strange device with the words “The Boner” skillfully painted over the front of it.

“Let me demonstrate my new invention,” he said, clearly expecting our excitement to match his.

I clutched my hands before me, teetered to and fro on my heels, and said, “How exciting!”

With that Sylvester brought a small basket of frozen chickens, probably about five, and emptied them into the chamber in the centre of the cube. He then released a valve and I could hear water filling the chamber and see steam rising.

Bernard started snapping off pictures, and I began to smell chicken cooking as Sylvester closed the chamber. There were spurting sounds, and something that looked like a cappuccino machine released steam from the side of the contraption. In a few moments a bell ran, and chicken broth was pumped from a pipe at the foot of the machine.

Then the device started vibrating and shaking, and a burst of super heated steam was released. It looked ok for a moment and then I noticed the look of panic on Sylvester’s face.

“Quick, Fiona, climb on the Boner. You sit on it while I get out my tool.”

“Sylvester…” I said uncertainly. “I’m not sure about this.” It seemed to be shaking and rattling quite dangerously.

“Climb on it or it may shake itself to destruction.” Sylvester was reaching into one of the colorful tool chests, trying to find his special tool.

I carefully climbed on to the Boner, the shaking going through my whole body. As I sat there I thought it was going to explode, and I must say my breath was quite taken away.

And then, quite suddenly Sylvester was there, between my legs with his tool. He jerked it this way and that and before long the shaking began to subside. At last there was a gurgling sound and a hatch popped open revealing two draws. Sylvester opened one, and brought out some perfectly cooked chicken meat. The smell filled the workshop with a delicious aroma.

From the second draw he drew out a tray containing all the chicken bones, completely cleaned of meat.

“It’s perfect,” he cried out. “Every bone has been extracted and the meat remains undamaged.”

“Goodness,” I said, feeling quite out of breath. “What a remarkable invention. I can imagine everyone will want a Boner.”

Sylvester said, “Imagine, a Boner in every kitchen!”

Bernard chimed in “People will be asking what on earth they did before they had a Boner!”

“Imagine, if you could find a way to extract the dark meat,” I said.

“I should think that would make it much bigger,” mused Sylvester. “Do you think there’d be a market for such a thing? It would be a much larger and more powerful Boner.”

“I can’t see that being a bad thing,” I replied.

So you can see it’s been a very eventful few days. Have a wonderful weekend!

🙂

Fiona

It’s spring! When was the last time you played around? Dressed? That’s got to be a good one for Playtime With Fiona!

 

Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube, and soundfiles on Soundcloud.

Did you know?

 

When you sign up for my Premium Program, you get a series of exercises, as well as the self hypnosis and educational information for Julie and myself, that’s sure to make all your crossdressing activities way more fun. One recent member wrote: “Your program like changed my life))) especially the initial encounter with the man who is now my bf)) thank you!!!”

Whether you want to just occassionally slip on some panties, or whether you’d like to pass, my Premium Program prepares you psychologically, physically and educationally for all you need to know. You can sign up today for just $10 a month. Join the many members who are finding more acceptance and happiness in this wonderful part of their life.

I’m looking forward to getting felt up in the loft.

We are fast approaching the end of summer. I’m preparing for fall and the long wet months of winter. To make my house a little more efficient Sylvester is helping me install some insulation in the loft.

With all these wildfires, don’t you think being a little more aware of the dangers of climate change is a good idea? I said this very thing to Sylvester just the other day.

“I think it’s important we all do our share to reduce our carbon foot prints,” I said to him while in the garden.

I noticed Ali checking the soles of his gardening boots, as I said that.

I continued, “The sooner I get felt up in the loft the better!”

My Pinterest boards are full of great ideas for crossdressers. One of my favorite boards is the fall fashion board below. Have a look and get some great ideas for the rusty reds and browns that come to us with every fall.

Check them out and have some fun.

🙂

Fiona

Sylvester’s giant pain in the …

Sylvester’s giant erection.

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.

“It took three of use, heaving and panting and sweating to get my erection up,” 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.

“I’m sure it did,” I said sympathetically. “Now, just tell me again, this ‘erection’, what is that again?”

Continue reading “Sylvester’s giant pain in the …”

Sylvester has entered me!

As summer gently shimmys toward the exit door, and fall gets in the queue to get into the club of the passing year, we’re slowly seeing the weather change. Even Auntie Kittie has started wearing a sweater now and then, a matter of considerable relief to Max, who types up her material.

Auntie Kittie is often surprised how quickly Max gets it up.

“Max is such a dear,” she said the other day. “I’m so grateful he’s so good at putting it in. He’s so thorough.” and then added as an after thought,”… and so quick.”

The poor 20 year old lamb goes the color of a beetroot when he’s embarrassed, and Auntie Kittie will say such things in front of Sylvester and Mistress Meg. And it was Sylvester and Meg who were sitting at my kitchen table this very morning. Sylvester was telling us how in these troubled times we should all be finding ways to lift our spirits. Instead of worrying about the Corona Virus we should be reaching deeply within ourselves and fostering our creativity. Meg was a little skeptical.

I’ve been doing that very thing myself. I’ve been doing a little embroidery, making some of my jeans look a little more feminine by adding a few little designs. It’s really very simple and gives even the most masculine of trousers a nice feminine touch. If you’d like to change your favorite dungarees from the farm yard, or even the ones you wear when cleaning out the slag from the iron foundry this will do just the trick. Even your most stylish denim pants can be personalised and uplifted – and we could all use a personalised uplifting of our denim clad butts, I’m sure you’ll agree.

I leaned over the kitchen table and turned to Sylvester and said, “What do you think of this?”

Sylvester looked at my jeans as I did so, and said, “That’s really very impressive.  I think I should enter you.”

“Sylvester, I…” but before I could speak he went on, as Meg looked on, arms folded and unimpressed.

“I should enter you in the embroidery competition. It’s part of the end of summer cultural fair at the recreation center.”

“Oh, really I don’t think so,” I said. “Most of the people entering are really rather older than I am. They’re quite a conservative lot. I’m really not sure what they’d make of me. I can imagine it would be like that poor South African athlete who they didn’t believe was a woman.”

Sexy jeans – just add heels.

Sylvester looked a little doubtful. “No, I don’t think it would be like that.”

Anyway that’s what I’m doing. Sylvester tells me he’s working on a book. The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Being A Complete Idiot. A catchy title.

“Are you writing it or reading it?” muttered Meg, ever the acerbic wit.

It turns out that half the people in this competition I’m now entered in are young arts students. I thought they’d all be doddery old buffers like Auntie Kittie’s father, who’s staying with her rather than going into a care home. These days that seems a rather good idea. The old fellow is about 150 years old and sits smiling looking into the far horizon. He seems a kindly old fellow, though the dementia is quite complete and he has little idea of what’s going on. He seems cheerful, though.

I said to Auntie Kittie, the other day when I was round there, “He looks like he’s fondly remembering the things he used to do when he was a young man.”

She frowned and agreed.

“Yes, you’re probably right. He’s remembering flying aeroplanes and bombing Germany. He’s always been a belligerent old bugger.”

I suppose we all have our own journeys.

Have a safe, socially distanced week. The Republican convention should provide a few laughs this week… urgh, I can hardly wait.

Fiona

A little something extra.

I realise I may be out of step with some of my members when I say this, and this is really just my own opinion, but I do feel quite comfortable limiting some of my social interactions as we go through the whole Corona thing.  I’ve taken the opportunity to trim out some of the less positive people in my life, and do more of the things I enjoy.

It’s a little bit like having the opportunity to fine tune one’s life a little. Reducing the negative people in my life, and engaging in the things I enjoy has become something of a goal. Sadly, Sylvester is having a more difficult time of it, being so outgoing and social.

Sylvester, for example, throws enjoyable parties, though sometimes they really do get quite out of hand. On one evening last year he had a rather unusual night during which one of his friends decided they were intent on cornering me and plying me with drink, in the hopes that they might do unspeakable, but delightful things to my body.

Continue reading “A little something extra.”

I am surrounded by idiots.

I sat in my garden this afternoon, socially distanced from my two expectant looking guests seated nearby, beside the gentle shape of a bouganvillia, off-setting the colours of the smokey pink and soft grey of my summer dress. Sylvester and Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, looked on hopefully.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re asking me – and Sylvester I think I am quoting you correctly – which is better:

                A: Sylvester’s idea, a facial scrub which is made by simply driving along behind a gravel truck while sticking your head out of the car window.”

At this point Sylvester was nodding and grinning like a chimpanzee that has just found the key to a kitchen cupboard full of banannas.

I continued, “Or B: Rainbow’s idea, a facial scrub made of vanilla extract, cream, vegetable oil, oatmeal and aloe, which is then smoothed on the skin and allowed to dry, before driving along behind a gravel truck while sticking your head out of the car window.”

Rainbow smiled at me vacantly and nodded.

Sometimes, I feel like I am surrounded by idiots. It may seem a harsh thing to say, but it’s true. I considered the question for a moment.

“Obviously,” I said at length, “the answer is ‘B’.”

Sylvester looked crestfallen. Before he could ask why I continued.

“The answer is ‘B’ because you could charge more for it and therefore make more profit. This might mean that in time you could afford to hire the team of psychiatrists that would provide the help that you both so obviously need.”

In these trying times of Covid-19 and failing businesses I am finding many of my friends are searching for new business ideas and as such my marketing expertise is in great demand. Perhaps you, too are surrounded by similar challenges.  If you are, you have my sympathy. Such is the lot of those of us who serve.

Be sure to join my Patreon if you’d like to lend a hand to myself and the sadly challenged people with which I surround myself.

Have lovely weekend, and stay safe.

Fiona.

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OK, boomer.

As I was saying to Sylvester just the other day, to have another language is to possess another soul.  The reason I say this is quite simple. For those of us older than millennials, we are in the process of learning a new language.

No longer can we talk about chairmen, manning the ship, or even manhandling the sails. Today we have chairpersons, we staff the ship and we manage the sails. The way we speak has rightly come to a point that change is not merely become a desirable goal; failure to change identifies us as dinosaurs.  As uncomfortable as that sentence makes me, I realise it is true.

The term ‘OK, boomer’ comes to mind. It encapsulates tolerance of a dinosaur that grazes idly in the village, but that everyone realises is going to die out sooner or later, leaving the world a better place for their eventual departure. So society changes.

Continue reading “OK, boomer.”

The Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony.

I was relaxing in my garden this afternoon when I got a distraught call from Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, asking to come round immediately. Of course, I said yes, always supportive of my friends. Besides, Sylvester had just left, having got my asphalt. He’s doing some work resurfacing the driveway.

“You’d better drop by, now I’ve got my asphalt,” I said down the phone.

Rainbow has just got back from a few days at what she calls a ‘retreat’. She does this once in a while, escaping to the Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony on a nearby island, in the southern Gulf Islands in British Columbia. It’s a rather strange sort of escape, involving naturists engaged in yoga and improv comedy. I suspect there’s a certain number of them that also become engaged in open sea swimming in an attempt to escape, or at least they would be if I found myself confined on an island in such circumstances.

One of the regulars at this particular location is a man who has turned to unusual street performance for his living.  Rainbow, who sometimes teaches yoga on the island, has been encouraging this gentleman, assuring him that street performance could be a great way to gain a small income for the rest of his life.

Continue reading “The Grin And Bare It Nudist Colony.”

My hand on your flies.

My good friend Sylvester was looking very concerned.

“I really think I ought to get my junk out,” he said, sounding very distracted.

“Well,” I replied. “If you must!”

We were standing around a table in the greenhouse, in my garden. The smell of ripening tomatoes filled the summer evening air.  On the table was a neat little pine box, containing some beautiful lures which Sylvester has made, as he is such a keen fisherman.

I inspected his flies, and i must say it did make me think I should keep my hand in. You may not think this to look at me, but I really do love outdoor sports, including hunting and fishing. I find the gentle rhythm of fly fishing very calming. Helping Sylvester sort out his fly fishing lures, and discarding those that are damaged or ineffective, is a periodic task I help my friend with.

That however is not the main reason I am writing tonight. I wanted to thank the many readers who have messaged me and commented on the series I put out recently about women who love to feminize their partners. In answer to the many requests, yes there will be further episodes added. In the meantime, feel free to use this link to enjoy the episodes that are already posted.

I shall be writing before the end of the weekend. Now, let me help Sylvester sort out his flies. I’m sure he’ll appreciate my attention.

Fiona

Sylvester is checking out Amanda’s cans.

What a strange day it’s turning out to be. Our members are all out doing wonderful things. Julia in Holland, one of my favorite members in our Whatsapp Group, has been out and bought some beautiful summery things, and nearby I know Lenni is having a garage sale.

Julia has been doing so well. She, like many of my members in the Whatsapp Group, shares some of her experiences and activities with other members of the group. It makes it a very supportive community.

This afternoon a few friends will be stopping by as the isolation period begins to lift. Lockdown here in Canada has been well observed and the results mean we are now able to begin very gradually restarting 2020. I, like most of my friends, feel that having a glass of wine in the garden with one or two friends is much more comfortable than going out to a restaurant, for the time being at least. It also gives us the chance to have a bit of a barbecue in the garden. Sebastian is hoping to treat us to his sausage later on. I am wearing a denim skirt, tee shirt and a lovely floral mask, and keeping things very simple.

Sylvester and Sebastian arrived a little while ago astride his enormous chopper.

Taking off his helmet he said excitedly, “Amanda’s going to drop by later. She wants me to check out her cans.”

“I’m sorry?” I replied a little surprised.

“Her headphones,” he said. “She says they crackle. She wants me to see if I can sort them out. It’s probably just a loose connection. They were very expensive apparently. Mind you that was in 1993. Still, I said I’d check them out.”

“Oh,” I said doubtfully. “I see.”

I have told Sylvester on more than one occasion that Amanda is in a relationship with my neighbour, Marjory the competitive lesbian eater. Or should that be ‘the competitive eating lesbian’. Well, as I’ve mentioned before Marjory is apparently quite a big noise in the world of competitive eating, although like so many sporting disciplines they are experiencing something of a famine this season.

“You should be a little careful,” I said to Sylvester. “Marjory and Amanda are together, as inexplicable as it may be. I’m not sure that you should be hunting in that particular briar patch. You might get pricked.”

“I don’t mean to be pedantic,” said Sebastian cutting in. “But, I’m not sure you can hunt in a brier patch.”

In the interests of contextual accuracy I rephrased my doubts to Sylvester, saying “I’m really not sure you want that bird in your hand. Better to leave it in the bush.”

Sebastian mumbled something about Sylvester having big hands and added that there are plenty more fish in the bush. I decided I should let it slip past. Instead I shot them both a look of disapproval.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s try this again. I don’t think, Sylvester, that you should have your snout in that particular trough.”

I think I may have to go in a moment. Sebastian has just got a call on his cell and let everyone know that Rainbow will be dropping by shortly and wants to show us her jugs.

“She’s only just got them out of the kiln,” he said helpfully. “She want’s to show us her pottery. It’s come on so well recently.”

Have a delightful weekend and if you’re one of my American members have the very best of Independence Days. To all my members, keep it real and stay distanced and masked if you can. 

Fiona

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Sylvester gets a poke from behind.

When Sylvester suggested I paint breasts on the back of my life jacket, thereby giving him something interesting to look at as he paddled, I refrained from the desire to beat him in the head with the paddle in my hands.  We’ve taken to getting out and about in the nearby locality, as the lockdown here in Vancouver eases.

Being locked down I think I’ve done every gardening job on my to do list, with Ali, and Sylvester has been helping with a few odd jobs about the house. Just yesterday afternoon we were cleaning up an old chest of draws that had been neglected. Some candles had burned down and damaged the surface. We’re taking the finish back to the wood. I’ve been stripping while Sylvester scrapes the varnish and wax off.

As we get a little more freedom I’ve started looking for interesting things to do outdoors as we continue a slightly eased lockdown. Getting out to kayak, or to sail (as long as we maintain distance) is ok. One activity we’ve found that works very well is sea kayaking. There are a couple of things worthy of pointing out about this activity. First of all, you can crossdress, wear a wig and anything else you want, once you’re out on the water no one is going to be able to either do or say anything about it. Another great advantage to be gained from this activity is the wonderful work out it gives you.

Continue reading “Sylvester gets a poke from behind.”

I don’t want to have to beat off any aliens.

I’ve found a good way to maintain social distance and still be able to communicate with Sylvester and the various welcome, and less welcome, visitors to my house.  I sit at the kitchen window and chat through the window, while they sit outside with their own coffee mug.

I am not paranoid, but we’re learning to live with social distancing in a responsible way here in Canada. We respect the rules around isolation, because we’d like to get things back on track at the soonest reasonable opportunity. I know people’s views on this vary. This video accurately shows how easy it is to pass on a virus, and we take it very seriously here.

“I’d like to get out to a pub,” said Sylvester. “A glass of Alexander Keith’s IPA, with beads of condensation on a warm spring evening would go down pretty well.”

Continue reading “I don’t want to have to beat off any aliens.”