Dotty Weekly News

 

Hello. It’s me. I haven’t been online since last week. Nope, I don’t know why – just the thought of turning on my laptop gives me a big dready feeling but I’ve been so bored today I thought ‘Right, Dotty, just TURN THE FUCKING THING ON,‘ so here I am with it turned on (for how long, I don’t know).

 

This is what’s happened in my week –

The death of an unliked relative.

The funeral of the aforementioned unliked relative. I didn’t go – I’m a people phobic she-hermit, I don’t do funerals. And I’m also not a HYPOCRITE.

A urinary tract infection that fucking hurts. A lot. And it’s made me so tired I keep sleeping - like Sleeping Beauty without the Beauty. I’m on my second lot of antibiotics, the first week’s worth were SHITE, they didn’t work.

I made a thing to eat that wasn’t Cumberland sausages. It had roasted BUTTERNUT SQUASH and SWEET POTATOES, and boiled PASTA (the pretty bows), and dry-fried lean MINCE, and DOLMIO LOW FAT BOLOGNESE SAUCE, and an ONION, and I baked it all together in the oven with some cheese on top. It tasted very nice.

I’ve been trying to find some books to give to the charity shop (because I have to clear a room) but I CAN’T FIND ANY BOOKS THAT I CAN PART WITH. I’ve been through the bookcases in my living room, the bookcases in my hallway, the bookcase on my landing, the bookcases in my bedroom, and the bookcases in my spare room, and I’ve looked through some of the stacks. But I haven’t started on the boxes yet so I might find one there.

 

Okay, I’ve had enough now. If you don’t see me beforehand, I’ll come back next week.

 

 

P.S. Last week I changed the comment thingy to allow your comments to go straight through because I’m such an ignorant cow I knew I wouldn’t be back online to approve and answer them. Sorry.

 

 

 

 

Dotty The Fickle Fucker

 

Last week I told you I’m back on my blog but obviously I haven’t been writing on it or reading any of your blogs or doing anything at all regarding blogging since I came back, apart from one post and a bit of reading I did on the day after I posted but nothing since then – and I don’t know why. I love blogging, I love my little blog (and the Big Blog, and my new one), I like the fact that I was writing somehting almost every day since last December - because even though all I write is shite it’s better than writing nothing at all. And I love reading blogs too, a blog post is just the right size for an unfocused loony to read without losing focus. I love blogging – so what’s happened to me, why have I lost interest in it? I think I need to remember why I was blogging in the first place and take it from there. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.

 

 

Hello, It’s Me, Dotty.

 

I’m back! Back on my blog, back in my house, back in this world without TOO much damage to my bodily parts.

Where have I been? Well, there are two answers to that question. First answer – I’ve been with Branwell. Second answer – I’ve been in hospital. I don’t believe the second answer though because I KNOW I was with Branwell, I have the scurvy to prove it, and I REMEMBER being with Branwell but I don’t remember being in hospital where Lottie insists I was (not until I woke up on Ward 23 and that was only just over a week ago). It’s more TRICKERY from Lottie – I thought she’d given up trying to drive me mad but nope, here she goes again – she keeps telling me the bouncy period I was in ended with me bouncing out of my bedroom window right into Intensive Care, but she’s lying – when I ACCIDENTALLY FELL out of the window Branwell caught me and took me on a little holiday to the Victorian seaside where we spent the days walking the beaches looking for pretty shells, and eating lovely cakes in the tea shops.

I’m sorry I couldn’t come online to tell you where I was – the Victorian seaside tea shops aren’t wired up for the internet, in fact NOWHERE in Dead World is wired up for the internet. I tried sending a letter to my blog so you’d know where I was but the Victorian post is STUPIDLY slow and if my calculations are right (and they won’t be, I’m shite at Maths) the letter will have reached no further than 1871 (probably May or June) - and it’ll arrive here in 2154 when we’re ALL living in Dead World so you’ll know what it says before it gets here.

I don’t know how they got me out of Dead World and up onto Ward 23. Branwell doesn’t know either, but he says I put up a good fight to stop them taking me. The first thing I remember of Ward 23 is sitting in front of a NEW HEADSHRINKER (not the one in the blackmail shagging photos Scotty took) in a big room that had only two chairs (those we were sitting on) and a little table. She was about 8 years old and had her hair in PIGTAILED PLAITS and her mouth was going YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, and then the yapping turned into words and she was saying, ‘You’ll have to do a lot of mindful work to get past this, Dotty,’ and my first thought was, ‘WHY IS THIS FUCKING EMBRYO TELLING ME WHAT TO DO?

They’d been AT me, full frontal lobotomy or something, because my head was wrapped in a big bandage and my arm was in plaster and other bits of me hurt like a bastard. The new headshrinker said she hadn’t done anything to me, the bandages and the plaster cast and the PAIN was from when I bounced out of the window. LIAR. I know what they did. Experiments. Nasty experiments on my brain. And my arm. And the other painful bits. I was so shocked I jumped up out of the chair (slowly – more of a hoik than a jump) and she jumped up too and she said, ‘Violence isn’t the answer, Dotty,’ and I said, ‘Don’t worry, love, I never punch anyone who’s wearing MOTHERCARE,’ and she pressed a button that was dangling from a strap round her neck and two whitecoats came in and took me to a room with a bed in it. That was sometime last week and I didn’t get home until the day before yesterday.  

I’ve got a lot of bloggy catching up to do, but after the experiments they did on me my brain isn’t functioning at its usual level of brilliance so I’ll do what I can and what I can’t do I won’t do. And thank you  very much for the emails (sorry I couldn’t let you know where I was).

 

 

P.S. What have I missed? Any good gossip?

 

 

 

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