Dotty’s SECRET PLAN For Retrieving Her New Towels And Her Washing Up Basins From The Back Garden


Right, this SECRET PLAN of mine is going to surprise you. Shock you even. It shocked ME when it slammed itself right to the front of my thoughts, knocking all other possible plans that might have been forming back down into the strange and shady pit of my subconscious. It took me a while to get my head round the fact that THE PLAN was really there, shining and magnificent, the ANSWER to a problem I hadn’t had time to think and worry about. A little MIRACLE had happened.

But it wasn’t just the presence of THE PLAN that astounded me – it was THE PLAN itself, what it entailed, what it implied, what it MEANT, not only in relation to the retrieval of my new towels and my basins but, if I could pull it off successfully, FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

I won’t tease you by spouting lines and lines and paragraphs and paragraphs of distracting words to keep you in suspense and keep you reading because you might get bored of having to wade through word after word after word, and line after line after line, and paragraph after paragraph after paragraph. We Who Are Mental can have short attention spans and you might lose the thread and just skip down the page to The End to see what happened, or worse still, you might LEAVE THIS PAGE. But if you were to skip down to The End to see what happened, or if you were to LEAVE THIS PAGE you’d miss me



eeeeeekkk! eeeeeeeeeeekkkkkk!!!! eeeeeeeeeeeekkk!!!






Yes, yes, you did, you read it correctly. I went out alone. On my own, on my todd, solo-solo-marco-polo. I DID IT.

She-Hermits, He-Hermits, everyone else – I bet you’re gagging to know HOW – well, I’m going to tell you, you’ll just have to hold on a minute while I turn my Cumberland sausages before they burn on one side.


♪♬♪ dooby-dooby-doooooooo

dooby-dooby-doooooooo ♬♬♪


You can tell how excited I am, can’t you? I NEVER EVER EVER leave my Cumberland sausages to cook by themselves without keeping a supervisory watch over them to stop them spitting at each other and violently rolling into each other’s sides. It’s just not worth it, an unevenly cooked Cumberland sausage can be just as bad as an undercooked Cumberland sausage, but I’ve turned the gas down now so they should be okay.

Okay, how did I do it? How did I GO OUT OF MY HOUSE ALONE? Actually I don’t really know,  I JUST DID IT. I didn’t think about it, instinct or something must have taken over, I didn’t even put any shoes on, I just grabbed a cold Cumberland sausage from the fridge, stuck it half in – half out of my mouth so I wouldn’t scream – in case I dropped it and also to nibble on for sustenance and energy while I was running – then I unlocked the back door and RAN.

And you should have seen me – I was like USAIN BOLT, like the WIND ON LEGS, faster than the speed of light, I was REALLY fucking fast, if anyone was watching they wouldn’t have SEEN ME I was that fast, I’d have been nothing but a SPEEDY LITTLE BLUR before their eyes, THERE and GONE, what WAS that?


Four strides to the corner, four strides back. That’s eight strides, eight record-breaking fast-as-fuck STRIDES I DID OUTDOORS.


And in between was the swiftiest little pick-up ever. I didn’t even STOP for the pick-up and I had TWO BASINS FULL OF NEW, WET TOWELS to pick up. TWO. It was like a sprinty dance the way I did the turn and the pick-up at the same time while still managing to keep up the flow and the momentum of the run itself – FUCKING FLUID AND BEAUTIFUL, that’s what it was, like Dancing On Ice except it wasn’t dancing it was running and it wasn’t on ice it was on my concrete path – and those TWO BASINS FULL OF NEW WET TOWELS were really heavy, I thought I was definitely going to drop them or snap my hands off at the wrists and I knew how the skaters must have felt during PROP WEEK on Dancing On Ice, it’s bloody well hard you know, you don’t realise HOW HARD it is when you’re watching them on the telly because they make it look SO EASY, and so did I, I made it look like a piece of piss, I’d have been TOP OF THE LEADER-BOARD if Robin Cousins had been in my garden, judging me, and if Jayne and Chris had been there too they’d have FUCKING LOVED IT, they’d have wanted to COACH ME but I’d have said no because I don’t think I’d like ice-skating, I like to keep my feet firmly on the ground, thank you, but I wouldn’t mind having a go at the FLYING ROUND THE RINK thing, that looks like SUBLIME MAGIC and ROMANCE on a safety harness and a sturdy length of steel wire.

I reached the back door again and as I entered the house I let the TWO BASINS FULL OF NEW WET TOWELS drop onto the kitchen floor and I executed a STRIDEY LEAP over them that would have only scored maybe a low four because I was knackered by that time and all the power had gone out of my legs.

My heart was thumping, not panicky thumping, good thumping and I flopped flat over the kitchen table to get my breath back. I was SO PROUD OF MYSELF, SO VERY FUCKING PROUD that I wanted to ring Lottie and tell her what I’d just done, but I couldn’t get up and by the time I did get up to shut and lock the back door the urge to ring her had gone.

This is the SECOND TIME I’ve been out since I started my little blog back in December of last year. But it’s the FIRST TIME I’ve been out ON MY OWN for THREE YEARS.

In the space of a few days I’ve planned the party that wasn’t a party (planning it counts?) and I’ve GONE OUTSIDE MY HOUSE ON MY OWN.

What’s happening to me?



Leave a comment


  1. Dotty Dotty Dotty…XXX!

  2. the howler and me

     /  March 21, 2012

    Dear Dotty,

    I am so proud of you 🙂 You did AWESOME!!!!!


  3. Proud of you, Ms. Dotty!! You are following your treatment plan very well. I want you to replay this event over and over in your head (lingering on the feelings of sweet victory), except between now and our next therapy session, I want you to insert into the replay the thought of going a wee bit further, say, out to the road or street. Imagine yourself out there waving at the neighbors. But don’t do it yet, we don’t want to rush things. Slow and steady wins the race. I am ordering more Cumberland sausages right now…YOU DID IT!!! ALL BY YOURSELF!! And maybe I can arrange for the boiler dude to come back and dampen some more towels and leave them farther away. I thought I told him to leave them by the curb so you’d have to venture farther than that…damn subcontractors can never follow directions!

    • Dear SSM,
      Yes, I did it ALL BY MYSELF. Typcial therapist, takes all the credit. AND I bet you’ve scoffed all the other Cumberland sausages you said you had for me – if you haven’t scoffed them, why would you need to order more BECAUSE I DIDN’T GET TO EAT THEM, YOU DIDN’T GIVE THEM TO ME.
      Or is someone IMPERSONATING ME – they are, aren’t they, a doppelganger or an identity thief, they’re pretending to be me so they can have all the Cumberland sausages. I have to go and ring the police.
      Love Dotty xxx

      • Yes, YOU did it all yourself – no boiler dude, therapist or Cumberland sausage can take any credit. You can lead a horse to water, but the horse has to want to drink. Enjoy the buzz, baby! I am saving the sausages just for YOU, and ordering more to let my family try them out, since they’re so excellent.

        Congratulations again!!

        p.s….I am working on a way to send virtual sausages. Maybe we should develop a Cumberland Sausage Award in the blogosphere, and you would be the first recipient!

      • Dear SSM,
        I already have THE Cumberland sausage award and it’s from THE BRITISH CUMBERLAND SAUSAGE SOCIETY. Why would I need another one?
        Love Dotty xxx

      • Wow, what an honour! I am proud to know you. You can never have too many Cumberland Sausages, or awards, I suppose. I would also give you the closet extravert award…

      • Dear SSM,
        … and I would accept it – and put it in a CUPBOARD (which is the correct, British, word for ‘closet’).
        Love Dotty xxx

  4. Dear Dotty dear,

    I cannot even begin to write how proud of you I am!! But tell the therapist to take a hike — you shouldn’t have to think about doing anything except basking in the sweet glow of your success. I wish I could’ve been there to see it — I bet you were poetry in motion, my dear friend. Yay, you — Yay for you!!!



    • Dear Judith,

      Thank you!!! 😎 😎 😎

      The cheek of that therapist – OY, THERAPIST, I’M DOING WHAT JUDITH SAID AND TELLING YOU TO GO AND TAKE A FLYING FUCK because it was ME who did it, not you.

      Love Dotty xxx

      • Dear Judith,
        Thank you once again for the best advice I could ever get. Can you hear the whizz of the therapist’s wheels back-pedalling like crazy? Haha. BOSH, gotcha, therapist.
        Love Dotty xxx

  5. Dear Dotty,
    As we say in Canada, “Fucking Eh!”
    I’m high fiving my monitor.
    Humbly yours,

    • Dear Sara,
      Thank you. 🙂
      I like that, ‘Fucking Eh!’ I’m going to steal it.
      When I repeat it fast it keeps coming out as ‘Fucking ‘ell’ (as we say in Yorkshire).
      Love Dotty xxx

  6. Dorothy

     /  March 21, 2012

    Dear Dotty,
    Congratulations!!! How wonderful to have done this all on your own…I hope after reveling in the joys of success you try again soon. Perhaps harvest some wormwood or just sit by your door and enjoy the air. You deserve the joys of nature… for people, they can get lost of course. But I do so love the joys of mother nature. Stupendous work!!

    • Dear Dorothy,
      I’m planning a holiday to Austria. I’ve been looking on websites all day. Or Mauritius. Or Jamaica. Or … somewhere.
      Love Dotty xxx

  7. Dearest Dotty,

    Good for you! And planning counts. Don’t let anyone tell you different!


  8. You are a Rock Star!

  9. Dotty, what I meant was a big mmmmmmmwah! But, after having being shown, have forgotten how to put hearts on here, I thought it was ❤ but that is not working anymore! So, big kiss on your freckly noses is what I meant with my 'XXX' Plus, me and my clan used to say fuckin ey in Mcr, so you can claim it Dotty 🙂


Write a little note to Dotty.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: