Wednesday, November 7, 2012

The Trouble with Spot

In less than twenty-four hours since I started this enterprise... ahem....a certain young man has sent nearly a dozen inquiries via private message...

He's quite sweet really and I decided that rather than drain my life force by addressing every note from every corner, I would set up a place just for him.

So here it is, dear Spot.  I have poured myself a generous sherry.  I have asked the maid to tell everyone that I am NOT accepting calls and I am...quite frankly...braced for it.

Let's have it.

Yours Sincerely,
Aunt Alice


  1. Dear Auntie Alice, I am 16 years old and not very good around girls! There is girl at School that I really like. She is 5 foot ten inch’s tall and looks like Madonna. I am 5 foot one inch tall, and 5 foot one inch across, spotty and have bad breath, but a brilliant sense of humour. Should I approach this girl and declare my love?
    Signed Spot.

  2. Dear Spot,

    You sound very earnest. I'm sure this girl's resemblance to the Virgin Mother is quite impressive (if a bit unsettling....). As for your own resemblance to a globe, it can be challenging. Spots and bad breath are easily overcome by something you may, being a sixteen year old boy, have overlooked.

    Soap and toothpaste, my love. And with spots, perhaps a little time.

    BUT Take heart! A sense of humor is the most desirable quality on earth and will make you a very charming and affable partner. So...

    My advice....


    I fear for your life, dear boy.

    Aunt Alice

  3. Hello Auntie Alice, Spot again. Unfortunately my friends dad, Danny Kemp, is the only one I know with a computer, so I have to ask him, to ask you, to answer all my problems. (if that makes sense) I'm a bit shy and don't know how to put words together. Anyway Jack, that's my friend, was a mite slow in asking his dad, or his dad was a mite slow asking you (He, that's Danny Kemp, says it wasn't his fault)...but it's now too late... I spoke to her. She hit me and I'm not sure why. I said this..."My friend Jack told me, that one way of getting rid of spots was to have sex, soooooo, (I stutter a bit as well) would you have babies with me?
    I now have a busted jaw and all my front teeth are missing. Is that a sign that she likes me, but is shy as well?
    I will wait for the new set of false nashers before forking out for tooth paste.
    Signed Spot.

  4. Oh, my dear Spot,

    You've learned three important things. Firstly, that Jack, your friend, is not to be consulted on any matter regarding women. Or social graces. Or birth control, for that matter.

    Secondly, that the cliche about "fools rushing in" exists for a reason.

    And Thirdly, that the object of your affection is apparently a very good pugilist. (How wonderful!)

    But hear me, Spot. As your Trusted and Clear-Headed Advisor, your Madonna is not at this moment impressed with your charms and there is nothing shy in a girl who sounds like Boadicea reincarnated who may very well snap your neck the next time you approach uninvited while making references to her fertility.

    There are steps, Spot. You cannot win the game by walking up and asking if you can....ahem....plant your flag in her hillocks.

    Convince your father to spend the extra money necessary on a very good set of new nashers, and send her a note of apology. (Feel free to blame your friend Jack in the note and distance yourself from the nightmare of the day....)

    And don't approach her again without wearing a cup.

    Aunt Alice

  5. And just in case I wasn't clear, sex does NOT clear up spots.

    Aunt Alice

  6. Dear Auntie Alice, I have sneaked into this vast opulent suite that Jacks' dad uses as his office and I'm using his computer, but don't tell anyone.
    My mouth is very sore but I gargled with iodine so I should be ok, if a little yellow around the gills. It made me feel a little sick actually, but no matter. I am somewhat confused though.
    Where shall I wear the cup that you suggest, will that protect me from another violent female? Oh, and another question before I'm discovered....As I'm only five foot one inch tall, how can I make myself taller?
    Signed Spot.

  7. Dear Spot,

    I need more sherry. But that being said... Let's tackle one issue at a time.

    It is very wrong to break into other people's office's without their permission. You are a very naughty boy.

    Oh, well. Who isn't a bit off at sixteen years of age?

    All right, next.

    You are a persistent fellow. Did you write the note of apology that I instructed you to? Send it to her rather than delivering it in person. Toothless and with yellow gums, I have nightmarish visions of the image you'll make handing over your letter and I fear, she'll mistake you for one of those zombie apocalypse enthusiasts and your quest for romance will end in (Yet Another) injury.

    Let's forget the cup for now. I don't think it will help at this stage....

    Mail your letter of apology, wait until you don't look jaundiced or diseased before approaching this girl again...and see if you can find a hobby that doesn't involve risking your life to take your mind off things. (And by "things", I meant girls.) Just for a while, dear Spot.

    As to your height, this we can resolve. You must eat all your meat and vegetables and exercise whenever you can. My cousin tried inserts in his shoes...and he appeared two or three inches taller...before....well, the disastrous incident is hardly worth mentioning.

    My mother said you could dream yourself taller, but I think she said that just to get my brother to go to sleep when ordered.

    Spot. Dear Boy. You should get some rest and dream yourself taller. And now your exhausted Aunt Alice will go find some more sherry....

    Aunt Alice

  8. Dear Auntie Alice, what a wonder you are. My life has taken a turn for the better. I must, however, say sorry, I have not written that letter of apology, but I have started it. Here is what I have done so far.
    Dear Pug,.....(Here again Auntie I must praise you. How did you know her name, is it because you are so ancient and know everything, or does the sherry help you?).....I congratulate you Pug on having such a wonderful right hand. As you come from a famous Hungarian musical composing family, I suppose you have inherited it. What a beautiful name Pug Liszt, my love for you grows deeper... I am please Auntie, that I haven't sent this, but I seek advice. Should I? Read on and then decide.
    I have found another girl friend and this one is verrrrrryyyyyy passionate.
    Her name is Mrytle and I am soooooo....(I always have trouble with that word and verrrrrrryyyyyy)....lucky, or so my Dad says. She has one brown eye and one blue, five foot six, has an attractive lisp and loves kissing, although I must say, that the fact that she leans to one side, and me being five inch's shorter, makes things slightly awkward. I have an idea how to rectify that. More on this later.
    I replaced my missing teeth with three of those small rectangular white chewing gum things, sticking them into place with one already chewed, so as to take away the starkness of my yellow smile. She could not stop kissing me Auntie, even though it was the first time we had met!
    Should I send that letter, with of course more in it, or should I simply forget Pug, and move on to Myrtle and ask her if I could plant my flag in her hillocks?

    PS. I think I must have swallowed those chewing gum things whole as they have disappeared. Will I live?

  9. Dear Spot,

    Another day and here we are again. I don't remember guessing your Madonna's name as "Pug" but I suppose any praise is appreciated for my wisdom and insight....

    What a wandering little heart you have! You're chirping endlessly about one girl and now you confess to mashing up with another? For a rotund, yellow-gummed fellow with spots, you certainly don't concern yourself with convention, do you?

    I suspect this Myrtle has an addiction to wintergreen flavored gum and must have caught the scent of it on your breath... Her passionate appreciation for snogging makes me wonder.... As for the leaning, what else would you have her do? Unless you're going to cart around a small step ladder, you should be grateful that the girl is attempting to accommodate you! Ungrateful boy!

    And you're not conquering any hills, my boy, until you've mastered your self! What nonsense! Keep you flag folded and be a gentleman!

    And whatever you do, DO NOT declare your love to one girl while mashing on another! It's bad form. And will lead to a stay in hospital at the rate you are going!

    Most sincerely,
    Aunt Alice

    PS You will live. I suspect Myrtle is the one who is currently digesting them....

  10. Dear Auntie Alice, you called her Pug Liszt. I'm sorry to pull you up on that but you did, you really did you know.
    I'm in trouble again, and not sure why. I was thinking about your advice about growing taller but figured it would take too long to kiss Myrtle at her own height. As a short cut I thought that I would try Mums shoes on and see what I looked like. Well there I was bending over and prising the left one on to my foot, the right one went on very easily, when Dad walked-in. He asked if I had transvestite tendencies. I said that I didn't know. I said that because I haven't a clue what transvestite tendencies look like. The dictionary has been locked away since I was discovered looking up 'carnal knowledge' at the age of nine and the Encyclopedia Britannica was sold five years ago when Dad remarried. He said there was no need of it now as Gloria, my new Mum, knew everything. She is not home yet to ask. Do you know what he was referring to?
    Signed Spot.

  11. Dear Confused Spot,

    Lucky for you, I am a woman of vast experience and a wide range of acquaintances. My second cousin's husband was quite fond of wearing women's underthings and had a strange interest in her shoes... So, it is my educated guess that your father fears that you prefer women's fashions over your own.

    It wasn't too long ago when all men wore heels to show off their legs...

    But alas, times have changed.

    If you have a propensity to women's clothes and shoes, please please do NOT borrow said items without permission. Women are very possessive of their dainties and would not be happy to see you in their Sunday best merely as an experiment to get you more snogging with Miss Myrtle Wintergreen the Gum Slayer.

    Truthfully, I'm not sure what a transvestite is. It sounds medical....and a bit....contagious.....

    When in doubt of a word's meaning, I avoid it like the plague until I can use it with confidence in a sentence and not provoke someone to choke on their canapé. That is good advice you can safely apply as you get older.

    Yours sincerely,
    Aunt Alice

    PS You are a very funny boy.

  12. Dearest benevolent Auntie Alice, I have bad news. I am to be sent away. Dad says that I need toughening up, as I'm likely to turn into a sickly child if I carry on as I am, and my spots will not clear away. I must admit that since my altercation with Pug they do seem somewhat worse with the yellow staining around my mouth accentuating the overall disfiguration of my face.
    (I bought myself a pocket size dictionary as you can see from my word usage, clever aren't I. Haven't looked up 'transvestite' yet, still on words beginning with A, B, C and D)
    Anyway the thing is that I have to go...camping!
    I have another disadvantage in life that I haven't previously mentioned, but now feel obliged to as I know that I will be embarrassed whilst under canvas.
    My feet smell. They have always been the same, and I have hidden this fact from everyone. Now, though, that we have become such GOOD friends, I feel that I can tell you some more personal defects that I have.
    I will not bombard you with them all in one go, there are quite a lot actually, but can you recommend a quick solution to the stinking feet issue?
    Oh, as an aside, do you think that I should ask Myrtle to come roughing it with me?
    My grammar is improving don't you think?
    Signed Spot.

  13. Dear Intrepid Spot,

    I am mystified at your attachment but flattered all the same. I was telling a friend just this morning that I feel as if I have unwittingly adopted a wayward nephew, a slow but sweet boy who seems to embrace his every disaster and...make the most of it.

    Camping sounds like a refreshing opportunity. Either to improve your survival skills and health, add a bit of masculine fun to your experiences and....well, it could simply be the chance to get away, heal your injuries, let the yellow fade off and return a semi-normal young man--ready to face the world.

    And MAYBE if you're very good, reapproach the young ladies with renewed vigor. (god help them)

    Spot. You CANNOT invite a young woman to go off camping with you. It is Not Proper and considering Myrtle's odd addiction to snogging anyone chewing gum, I foresee great heartache for you if any other male camper chances to pull out a bit of peppermint chews after a campfire meal...

    Besides. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

    NOW, let's address your odorous feet. Powder helps. Bring several fresh pairs of socks and a container of foot powder. Sprinkle some of the stuff inside the sock, (just a dash, Spot. You don't want clouds of white ash rising up with every step. You'll look like a ghost walking!) before putting it on. Wear fresh socks with powder each day. AND THEN DO NOT STICK YOUR FEET IN PEOPLE'S FACES.

    I wouldn't normally say such an obvious thing, but dear Spot, with you I am learning to leave no stone unturned.

    Your grammar is decidedly better. Good boy.

    Your Very Own,
    Aunt Alice

  14. Dearest visionary Auntie Alice, I have borrowed Jack's dad's Ipad, (that's a mouthful, and with few teeth, difficult to say) so that I am able to keep in touch with your metaphysical self. I have reached 'P' in the dictionary by the way.
    I love the word 'phantasmagoria' and think that I actually had one last night....but I quickly focused my mind on other things. Is this normal if you look up words all the time? If it is, then I cannot wait until I reach T.
    Where was I, ah yes, another problem. One to do with those defects about myself I mentioned to you.
    I followed your advice on eating all my vegetables, both in order to improve my complexion and to trim down from my, as you so aptly put it, rotund shape. It is working, but in two ways, one now causing some acute embarrassment.
    I am losing weight but passing rather a lot of wind. Eating cauliflower is a great way of dieting but with it, comes hazards. Smelly ones!
    My condition was made worse, and brought to everyones attention, after dinner when I bent down to pull on another fresh pair of socks.
    We had all eaten beans...lots of beans. I am now smelling rather obnoxiously. I am so pleased with that dictionary, I sound quite intelligent don't I?
    I have been banned from the tent Auntie Alice and it is cold outside. What can I do?
    Signed Spot.

  15. Dear Boy,

    Before we address the more...pungent problems facing you, I would love to compliment you on your improving use of the English language. It certainly makes you sound more educated. As for "more intelligent"...let's leave that topic for another day.

    I am so glad that your figure is improving but I apologize for the unanticipated side effects. Broccoli has been the bane of many a poor man.

    Since you are being so frank with me, then I will be frank with your answer. Sugared ginger and muscular control.

    Try eating sugared ginger to help with your digestive issues. And practice retaining emissions with the strength of your.....internal muscles, and if you feel an attack coming on, excuse yourself from the room and find a private and well-ventilated area to .....relax.

    There. That should do it. DO NOT stop eating healthy foods as I've advised, but add a new awareness of the evils of kale and you should persevere.

    Just between us, I believe flatulence is the Genuine Source and Real Reason people love lap dogs. It gives them a small furry companion, certainly, but also a Very Culpable Creature to BLAME for all of their own transgressions!!

    You, however, are in NO POSITION to take on the care of a Pomeranian, so don't even think about it!

    I think we've covered it. As for the cold, wear extra layers and try jogging about to stay warm (the exercise will do you good, my child)

    Good Luck,
    Aunt Alice

  16. Dear all wise Auntie Alice, I must first ask what is a Pomeranian? My dictionary is only small, as you must be aware that someone my size, has difficulties getting hands in and out of pockets, so anything large tends to protrude. (I do sooooooooo love a P)
    That complication has caused one or two problems in the past, but less of that at this stage, you have enough to worry about as it is.
    I should consult a doctor, or a behaviour specialist, about that.
    I did find, however, pomegranate. Why would anyone want one of those on their lap?
    Whilst I am showing-off my new found grasp of the English language, you say you are a Maven. Do you mean a raven? Only I cannot find the meaning of maven? I have heard the word 'tavern' used though. Dad goes to one all the time. He says that it is my fault, but he lost me on that one, as on the transvestite thing, must hurry to the T's in this dictionary.
    I tried jogging for a while but I'm not the shape to run. I tend to bounce along with wobbly bits shaking all over me. I would imagine, that for someone looking on, it is not a pretty sight.
    My 'wind' problem seems to have passed, in more ways than one..ha ha. I am a wag aren't I?
    I make myself laugh at times and can't quite understand why others merely smile and walk away. I have heard some say that I give them a headache. That must mean that they find me funny and laugh too much, I presume. (There's another P for you. I do sooooo like a P) My stutter seems to be getting better.
    I am just creeping back into the tent as all seem to be asleep, so will leave you now for your glass of sherry.
    Signed Spot.

    PS.. Jake's Dad said I could keep this IPad. He said that he didn't want it back after a klutz of a donkey had touched it. Can't quite understand that, as I have not been near any animals and cannot find the word klutz.

  17. Dear Spot,

    I cannot decide whether I am helping or making things worse with this correspondence, but I've never been one to quit and since you are so eager to please, I am happy to live with a headache. (Thank god for sherry...)

    A Pomeranian is a kind of little dog. It was a conversation about lap dogs. Try to stay focused.

    I'll keep my fingers crossed that theT's are as kind to you as the P's.

    Humor is always better shared and if you are alone in your merriment, then best to keep the punchlines to yourself. That's my advice there...

    If jogging doesn't suit, may I suggest a brisk walk? Just don't get lost in the wilds while camping and hike off into the unknown, dear Spot. Complaints aside, I would miss your letters.

    Jack's father sounds very brusque and I am not impressed with the man and his insults. Keep the iPad (whatever it is) and don't waste a moment thinking about the dolt's hateful slurs.

    Until next time,
    Aunt Alice

    PS I'm not sure about the mention of pockets. I'm going to try not to think about it too much.

  18. Dear Auntie Alice, we have been betrayed, you are no longer my secret. Whilst I slept, easier now that the wind has passed, (there goes that wicked sense of humour again) someone, I believe Jack, powered up my Ipad. I know this to be true, because I was getting notifications from twitter but that has stopped, and I now have no way to contact my Mrytle.
    You more than likely do not know what twitter is, but don't worry, I tell you another time.
    Incidentally, (you see I leant well when browsing through the I's) you spell humour without a 'u,' how strange you are. Is that because are so ancient or is it your beloved sherry? She must be a very good friend. (Look no stammer with 'so')
    I hope you do not become too inundated (there I go again, inundated, sounds so posh) and have no time for Spot your disciple and devotee. (D's are so good aren't they)
    I must go now as breakfast bell has been rung. I hope we have beans again.
    I learnt a new song last night: "Beans, beans are good for your heart. The more you eat the more you fart."
    It was very kind of them to make me stand in the middle whilst they sang it. Made me feel wanted. I almost cried.
    Signed Spot.

  19. Ahaha LOLOLOL I don't know Danny... But we Americans spell humor without the u :-D

  20. Danny, such a prime example of Brit humor. Is Spot going to have more escapades?

  21. Dear Spot,

    Twitter? Is that a bird gossiping or a reference to schoolgirl giggles? Well, betrayed or outed, I will always be here for you, Spot. My supply of sherry is vast... By all means, let your friends know that if they ever need advice of any kind, here I am.

    At the ready.

    Spot, please don't sing that song ever again. I beg you.

    Your friend,
    Aunt Alice

  22. Dearest, most treasured Auntie Alice, aren't you wonderful to people you don't know! Inviting then into your private domain; astounding. I'm so pleased that Sherry is vast, she must be a great comfort to you on a cold night. Which brings me, aptly, up-to-date in a strange way. I found T in the dictionary.
    To some extent Dad was right about the transvestite thingy. I have worn women's clothing, other than those shoes, on one occasion before, but it was through absolute need.
    It was a very cold morning and I had to walk to School, as the buses were on a 'shuttle' service. The trains were not running because there were leaves on the line. I thought leaves belonged on a tree, but there you go. Another thing confused me that day...How can buses play badminton, do you know the answer to that, oh wise maven that you are?
    Anyway, on the washing-line, at home, were Mum's ear-muffs, so I used them in an appropriate fashion. I knew that they were not Dad's, his are blue. He had them on once when Mrs Ellis called, and they went to the bedroom to play scramble. I saw them on his head when I was in the Garden, and looked up to the bedroom window on my way out to meet Mum and carry the shopping home. Dad had told me to go, he's caring that way. That was just a little while before the divorce.
    The ones I took were plain white, and not very snug around the ears, a bit floppy in fact. They had boney bits in them, and hooks and eyes as fasteners, so all in all, completely unsuitable. I presume they were some sort of prototype as I have not seen them again, and my Step-Mum seemed a little put-out when I came home.
    I DO NOT like this Danny Kemp Auntie Alice, I think he is a prig. There I go with those P's again, do love a good P.
    I hope he has not upset you, and spoiled this lovely cordial (hmm, nice word choice there Spot) relationship.
    Catch up on all things camping later.
    Signed Spot.

  23. Dear Spot,

    Ear muffs don't qualify as clothes, so I don't see how you could have crossed any lines! And your Mum's white earmuffs sound useless so perhaps for Christmas you could purchase her a better pair.

    I regret to hear of the scandal your family has suffered. You are too innocent I think to grasp the tragedy but Mrs. Ellis has no business playing scramble in the bedroom with anyone other than Mr. Ellis! What a mess! I shall box your father's ears if ever I meet him and give your stepmother the cut direct--in defense of my poor dear Spot!

    YOU, of course, must remain respectful of your parents, whatever form they leave the rest to me. I may be elderly but I still have enough snap in my step to take care of my friends!

    As for Mr. Kemp, let us be kind. You have after all, commandeered his equipment and borrowed his identity is a wicked thing and he should be forgiven a bit of fussing. Just keep out of the man's reach and wait until his face isn't quite so red before attempting an apology.... Who knows? Mr. Kemp may become yet another friend and advisor. (So long as he has no relationship to the Dreaded Mrs. Ellis!)

    I look forward to news of your camping.

    With affection,
    Aunt Alice

  24. Dear Auntie Alice, doesn't time just fly past when you are enjoying yourself. Do you find that being in a state of 'suspended animation,' as you are, your own years turn into minutes and your aeons into infinity?....There, you see I am getting quite clever, aren't I?
    I have been here, at camp, for a week now, although it seems like only yesterday that I was speaking to you. So much has happened since then.

    The Australian National Women's Basketball Team camped next door to us three days ago, and I have been showing-off to gain their attention. Did you know that their nick-name is Opals. It is true Auntie Alice and I'm now obsessed with them.
    Yesterday, there were a few gathered around our fire, and everyone was singing 'gooey, gooey, watcha, ging, gang, gong,' when I arrived.
    I made quite an entrance; I was in a rubber tyre. It was a big one I must say, and so much fun.
    You see, earlier, some of the more playful lads here, had suggested that there was no tyre in the entire world (good that, don't you think) that would fit around my girth. Well, I knew of one!
    I had seen it on one of the excursions, from the camp, that I made whilst that 'wind' problem existed. It was gigantic and just fitted.
    They rolled me down the hill inside of it. They were shouting something as I rolled, and I'm sure they were trying to stop it, but I do so love being popular.
    I came to an abrupt halt just in front of that roaring fire. The 'ladies' all screamed and then...made quite a fuss of me. I felt very....exhilarated, slightly dizzy, but I soon got over it alright, by falling into the lap of a bronzed beauty named Sheila.
    As I say Auntie, I'm so obsessed with these Opals that all else has escaped my mind, even Danny Kemp and his ruddiness. Sounds a touch rude that, don't you think?
    Anyway, that will have to do for now, as Sheila, I think it was the same one who's lap I found so....exhilarating, wants to see if there is a basket big enough to fit me through.
    They all seem to be called Sheila Auntie, do you think that is because they want to share me?
    Signed Spot.

  25. Dear Spot,

    What an entrance you make! I'm sure there isn't a Sheila who wouldn't be entranced with a man willing to risk his life to roll into a campfire circle! But do control your impulses, dear boy. You cannot adopt the entire team and while Opals have a magic all their own, see that you don't get blinded by the flash and color and land on your bottom.

    I don't think sharing is recommended. You must simply limit your pursuits to one girl at a time.

    If only because your poor Aunt Alice can't keep up with all these escapades otherwise...

    Just between us, it is my understanding that Australian women are particularly robust, healthy and independent. Perhaps this chase in particular will be good for one will definitely help you get into better shape.

    All the best,
    Aunt Alice

    PS Don't get too clever. No one loves a smart ass.

  26. Dear blessed Auntie Alice, my path through life has been showed to me. I am to enter a monastery and abstain from all women other than you. Our relationship will have to remain meta-physical of course as you are so ancient and I am so young.
    You were right about 'Sheila's,' very robust and rough!
    They suggested that by throwing basketballs at my belly it would become smaller, it didn't; but it gave me hiccups. They then laughed at me as I couldn't see what I was doing and I fell into the river. I can't swim, but my rotundness saved the day, I floated you see. First one, then another, grabbed poles from the tents and pushed me midstream, and I was carried away. After hours of being carted along by the current, I finally made land at a strange place called Lllanfiarwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrd(almost finished)drobwllllantysidgogogogoch.
    I bet you are pleased that I copied that down aren't you?
    Anyway the thing is, my trousers and I had parted company, but my size once again rescued me. I managed to pull my sweater up my legs and used my shirt, folded round, as a belt.
    Now my ass does smart. All the sauce-pan lids here (that's cockney rhyming slang for kids, by the way) are smacking my bum with leeks and daffodils. I'm in Wales apparently, as no doubt you guessed by that stupid name.
    When I passed our camp I did hear someone shout 'don't hurry back,' but I'm sure they didn't mean that. They wouldn't have Auntie would they?
    I have six miles to walk and just hope there is a roaring fire when I return.
    Do you think that dieting would not be such a good idea, in case the same things happen again?
    One good point came from it all though, I am not longer obsessed with opals that's for sure!
    Signed Spot.

  27. Auntie Alice, they have all gone. There are no Boys Brigade, no fire and no Sheila's. Spot is all alone and about to cry. Help me.........

    1. Dear Spot,
      Don't Cry... You're stronger than that. I say you start your own Boy Brigade.

      Isn't Aunt Alice wonderful? She is so helpful.

      Hang in there Spot! It can only get better.

      Lovely Lily

  28. Dear Spot, you poor thing!

    What an adventure you've had! I know it was miserable but do try to remember that every hero experiences a bit of misery before he can triumph. Perhaps you will be a better Spot for all your troubles. But look at you! Escaping the wilds of Wales intact!! Not everyone is so lucky!

    I'm sorry that the Opals were cruel, as I guessed they would be. Good riddance! Even a temporary vow of abstinence is not a bad thing--at least until you can gather your courage and better manage the dangerous turns of the game.

    NOW, find some dry clothes, see if you cannot light a fire of your very own and locate the stores for the kitchen. Take a deep breath and then make sure you address your sleeping arrangements. Find shelter and make sure you have what you need for a warm night. And then make the most of whatever you do have!! I say, make a party of one. And then imagine that I am there, in spirit... I shall insist on a comfortable place to sit and I will bring my own supplies in this imaginary no fears.

    Please don't cry, Spot. You are braver than you know and by the time the Brigade of Boys return, you will be much closer to being a Man than they.... for your character will carry you through.

    All my love,
    Aunt Alice

  29. Dearest Auntie, all knowledgeable, Alice, how lucky am I to have found you. You are a veritable fountain of wisdom even though you have the disadvantage of being a maven. Does that long hooked beak get in the way when using a mobile phone? I guess it must, but never mind, eh.
    Now then, down to practicalities; creature comfort.
    I had a good rummage around. What a lovely evocative word; rummage. I do like that word. I will, when I find something else to have a lovely and satisfying rummage with, use it again! By 'rummaging' I found some clothes.
    The only trouble is, they belonged to those horrible Sheila's. There were enough skirts (those short frilly things that they wore when playing baskets. I feel all shivery now, just thinking about that. Oh well) to make into one big one. It fits adequately around my ample, but life saving, waist. I found some safety-pins too. I'm decent, well, if I'm careful and do not have the necessity to run.
    I have built a huge fire. I found some petrol and I was just about to throw it on when I thought of you Auntie dear one. I have postponed the event until I have reassured you that all is well. It really is you know, this will be the making of me.
    Oh, one other thing before I go and roast myself. I found food, and I'm lucky again. I simply LOVE prunes and guess what? Well, too late, I suppose I've given the game away somewhat haven't I?
    Yes, of course you've guessed; a dozen tins...and custard as well. Oh HEAVEN!
    Signed, Yours forever Spot.

  30. Oh Dear Spot!

    Please DON'T add anymore fuel to what is bound to explosive situation!! Oh, God. You'll lose your eyebrows at the very least, and at worst, I foresee your makeshift ruffles turning you into a deadly torch of agony...

    Oh, nerves! Where is my sherry? To hell with the small crystal glasses. I'm pouring myself a mug of it.

    Prunes? And Custard? As if the petrol didn't make things explosive enough....

    Brace yourself, Spot. You are about to experience a purge like no other. The good news is, I believe your diet is off to a lovely start whether you wished it or not. The bad news is...if you survive the experience, you may wish you hadn't if the others return to witness your humiliation...

    Do let me know the outcome...although obviously not the graphic specifics comes out.... Oh, God.

    I shall have another glass of sherry and pray for you, dear boy.

    Yours in fear,
    Aunt Alice

  31. Dear Auntie Alice, I am a new man, and possibly at the start of a new adventure. Let me begin at the beginning, always a good place to start don’t you think?
    There I was, typing away merrily on this old IPad to you, when I saw the three remaining tins of prunes roll, inexplicably, into that pile of twigs, paper, wood, trees, empty gas cylinders, metal and plastic drums of old fertilizer and whatnot, that I had assembled to warm me through this treacherous night on the borders of Wales. I have heard stories of their wickedness.
    I bent forward to save them, not the Welsh that hadn’t arrived yet; the prunes. Well, you would have done the same I know, but in so doing, I knocked over the thirty-six gallon drum of petrol that was beside me. I couldn’t see it as my neck would not turn that far.
    Anyway, the box of matches and firelighters fell from my grasp, and WHOOSH it went, and so did I!
    It really was a spectacular display. Did you see it in your heavenly place of residence?
    I ended up on the top of an inaccessible mountain called Ben Taffy, minus the six tins of prunes that I had eaten. I also ‘lost’ the three tins of custard. Well, I thought a two to one ratio was about right but obviously not. Would you have an opinion on that Auntie dear? I have, it seems, lost weight, so all is not lost. Back to the matter in hand, maybe a wrong turn of phrase there, as I have lost all those frilly skirts.
    There is a huge crater near where the campsite was but I hadn’t noticed that before.
    I was winched into a rescue helicopter, and it is so noisy in here that I cannot hear myself think, but it is also smelly, which given the circumstances, isn’t a bad thing.
    All the crew are wearing gas masks which I think is a little over the top. The other somewhat distressing thing is; they have blindfolds on whenever they come near me. It could be my naked beauty that causes that I suppose.
    The man in charge, who shouts a lot said, ‘that I had committed an act of in for me. How could I have done something that is in for me? I am not that selfish, it was an accident. I feel like telling him that he is a stupid man. Should I, do you think? Please hurry in answering, as I am finding it difficult to hold things together.......Oops got to go...again.

  32. Sorry, all is okay for now.
    Signed Spot.

  33. Dear Spot,

    I'm struggling to make heads or tails out of this mess but am relieved that you are alive and well. (If probably a tad charred...) Well, petrol and fire being an explosive mix, I'd say we've learned a good lesson about adding canned products into the pile and expecting to get anything other than a life threatening and nasty looking prune edged crater.

    I've no idea what all the shouting is about (nor for that matter what a hellycopper is). Blindfolded?? How in the world are they steering that thing if no one can see what they're doing? And whatever he's bossing you around about, it's nonsense! I would remind him that accidents happen everyday and that you certainly didn't intend to launch yourself into space using prunes and custard!

    Act of In? I thought I knew of every act of naughty possible but that's a new one...

    Be good. Deep breath. And ask them if you can borrow a few extra blindfolds and weave them into a pair of shorts...

    Aunt Alice

  34. Dearest Auntie Alice, who is Lovely Lily? She sounds delightful and compassionate. Do you think that if I promise her love and affection for the rest of my life she would accept me as her own? Perhaps she also enjoys a good rummage.
    Now, back to business. I am in a prison cell, back in the town of all those letters in Wales. I hope you took note of the name because maybe you could get Lovely Lily to visit. I am being laughed at here Auntie.
    As you well know I am not the normal size, so clothes are a problem, but here they have made me look a spectacle. I am dressed in two brown, hessian itchy sacks with holes cut into them for my arms and stumpy legs. I look ridiculous! What makes it worse is there is no hole for my head.
    I was called King Edward a minute ago and I thought that was a compliment but no, a King Edward is a potato. Hmm.
    They say they will come back later and cut one, but I do not understand all that is being said. After all, they are foreigners.
    I have had nothing to eat either, as apparently I still pong a bit but I can't smell anything and I suspect that they are lying.
    The Welsh are known for that you know, they even say that they're better than the English at Rugby. Now that can't be true Auntie can it?
    The English are renowned as rulers of everything on the planet with the biggest of everything in the whole world. David Beckham is English! So is that Elvis Presley. So is.....Oh I can't remember but there must be other great politicians that are.
    I must wait here for something they call a 'trail,' whatever that is, when it's at home. Do you know dearest Auntie what that is?
    I have to go now as there is a man with a big hose-pipe pointing at me and another with a stiff yard broom by his side. Once again they are talking in riddles, as they say that I don't want to get this IPad wet. Why would I want to do that?
    Signed Spot.

  35. Spot.

    Don't Panic. But I believe you are in the hands of the Welsh and there is terrible mischief afoot! I am aware of their pride and outrageous claims of superiority (which would be fine if anyone could understand a word they were saying) and as for Rugby, I stay firmly out of men's athletic affiliations and avert my gaze when I can from all the shouting and arm-waving that accompanies the mess.

    But let's focus on you. Blind in a sack. With hooligans at your elbows with clubs and now the threat of a dunking.

    Spot. I need you to run. We can discuss an Englishman's sense of size another time.

    Run, Spot, run!

    Aunt Alice

    ps Lovely Lily will be a topic for another day, but no matter who she is, I'm sure she'd prefer that you survive this adventure by RUNNING VERY VERY FAST!!

  36. Dearest, sweetest Auntie, are you upset and falling out of love with Spot? I cried when I saw the opening of your latest communication. (posh word there. I hope you noticed) A simple brusque...Spot! Am I no more a 'Dear Spot or a treasured Spot? Am I now that spot that causes an itch!
    I consoled myself by imagining that you were in a rush and had urgent matters to attend to, so I recovered my dispirited self and attacked the situation with vinegar, oops sorry, meant vigour. You can't do corrections very easily with this IPad.
    I rallied enough to barge past the guards, when the door swung open, and I am now an escaped convict.
    I ran as fast as my stumpy legs would allow me to, but the chasers, I call them peelers you know, after Sir Robert Peel, who first introduced Police into London, are not gaining. In fact I have lost them.
    I'm in the middle of a fancy dress parade and look quite at home because of course, as you realise, I resemble a rather large potato.
    What shall I do now oh great one?
    Signed Spot.
    Ps I have made two holes in this sack so my eyes can see.

    1. Spot, it sounds as if you've had more than enough adventures for one day and one person. I suggest you stop dressing up in women's clothing, even when it's accidental, and try to get home. You need to be tucked up in bed with a nice cup of tea, some bourbons and a hot water bottle, and away from all of these bothersome bullying chaps. Try not to scratch where the hessian sacks are itching because you might end up with a big rash on your cheeks and won't be able to sit down for a week. Spot, before your spud gets peeled, shake those little legs of yours and run! Run as fast as your potato hide will carry you! I will see if I can send someone to help. My dearest friend, the rabbit, also known Stumpy, may have some ideas. If only he'd stop nibbling on that carrot long enough to pay me some attention.
      All the best,
      Ernie, the pet dog.

    2. Nibble nibble, I suggest you run to the cabbage patch, nibble nibble, I will send backup bunnies, nibble nibble, to help you avoid the evil peelers, nibble nibble.
      Your trusty bunny

  37. Dearest Spot,

    Don't be so sensitive! I omitted endearments because I was sure they were about to drown you!! I've never been so terrified in my life--and on behalf of you, my boy!! Thank goodness you've escaped the wild Welshmen and are...

    In a parade you say? Dressed as a potato? Well, that's a unique accomplishment! I'm glad you can see where you're going. Do try to find a friend who can help you get word to your family! Perhaps if you let someone nearby know that you are a lost spud.

    Someone in the parade must have a bit of compassion!! Use your best manners, and see if you can find familiar ground.

    All the best from your favorite,
    Aunt Alice

  38. Dearest Auntie Alice, there were no good Welsh cakes here. No-one with compassion for poor Spot. They were all too interested in Leeks and Rugby. I did, however, find a farmers barn in which to hide, it is full of potatoes would you believe with no peelers in sight. I will be safe here with plenty to eat. I was so tired Auntie, after all that terrifying experience, that I fell asleep and had a awful dream.

    I had shrunk to the size of a thrupenny bit, and fallen through a rabbit hole and there I was, in a warren of tunnels, with a bloody great big white furry thing, with buck teeth, standing in front of me. He says that his name is Doc. What sort of name is that?
    In the dream I was briefly friended by a woman called Kinky. Do know that she wanted to get inside my sack and itch my bum Auntie. Is that a symptom of something?
    She mentioned women's clothing again, that insinuation is following me everywhere, even into my nightmares. Anyway, in my dream she said that she may come and find me again, so escape from Wales may be possible.
    I hope you are managing with your friend Sherry and she is not getting too much for you. If it is within your powers, please guide Kinky back, she was very attractive and sweet and perhaps I could pledge my trove to her.
    Signed Spot.

    1. Hi Spot,

      I think that perhaps you should stop eating prunes, as they are giving you such strange dreams. Kinky sounds interesting, but I think the Aunt Alice might help you find a nicer girl to set your eyes on.

      Spot you seem to be a nice young man, please be careful in your adventures.

      Lovely Lily

  39. Good evening Lovely, and may I say that lilies are my favour flower. Such a sweet perfume. Reminds me of raspberries ripening on autumn canes, mixed with jojoba oil and honey. I read that line somewhere on that obnoxious Danny Kemp's computer. He was smirking when he wrote that, the conceited man.
    Kinky was very interesting Lovely and, although I told Auntie Alice that I didn't like the idea of her itching my bottom, I did.
    I think Auntie Alice is always in her cups, she drinks a great deal of blood from her friend Sherry. She told me to get a cup way back when Pug punched me, and knocked out all my front teeth.
    Would you excuse me my dearest Lovely but I have pledged my heart now to Kinky and must ready myself for her arrival. Oh, by the way, I did ask a little while ago if you enjoyed a rummage. Did Auntie get round to asking you?
    I have incidentally made a vow not to eat prunes again. I am surrounded by potatoes, so they will do fine.
    Signed Spot.

    1. Hello Spot! I hope you are doing well. Lilies do smell lovely and they are a beautiful flower. Mr. Kemp sure has a way with words. Do you think he is as clever as you, and uses a dictionary? I bet he does!

      No, Aunt Alice did not ask if I enjoy rummage. To be honest, Spot, I am not sure what rummage is. Maybe, because I live in the United States and we are not familiar with rummage in my part of the world. However, I will tell you in my part of the United States we are very aware potatoes. I live next to the state that is knows as the potato state.

      I am a bit worried about Aunt Alice. She usually responds quickly to you Spot, and here we are still waiting. I hope she is not ill. I wonder if Sherry has taken her away to the country? I do hope she is ok and Sherry is being a nice friend. We all need nice friends, and I hope Sherry is a good friend to Aunt Alice.

      I must warn you to be careful with KInky. I’m not so sure she is as nice as Sherry is to Aunt Alice, so do be careful. Maybe you need to find your own Sherry, but not Aunt Alice’s, Sherry, but a friend like Sherry. How about a cat?

      Warm Regards, 
Lovely Lily

  40. Dearest absent Auntie Alice, both Lovely Lily and I are worried. Have you and Sherry gone to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in a far distant land. Is that what your initials really stand for?
    Concerned Spot.
    PS. Where is Kinky?

    1. Spot, Do you think perhaps Sherry has taken away Aunt Alice's computer? Maybe she cannot get to one. Oh, Spot! Maybe Sherry has locked Aunt Alice away in a closet.
      Very Worried, Lovely Lily

  41. Dear one Lily oh so Lovely, if I knew what a closet was, then I might be able to think about that.
    On the other hand is there a plot to deceive poor Spot?...Oh dear, just noticed that it rhymes. Maybe I'll become a poet after being a potato.
    I have noticed that all your name's, Lovely Lily, Aunties name and Kinky's name, end in an 'e,' well you know what I mean, 'e' 'y' all the same thing really.
    Is Spot being led up The Desolate Garden path?
    By the way, I had another nightmare with that bloody great white rabbit. I am, however, eating well although these spuds are a bit on the hard side.
    Signed Spot.

    1. Friendly Spot, A closet is like a big cabinet you put your clothes in. You are becoming clever with your words. Yes, I’d say you should become a poet!
      I have never been down a desolate garden path. Perhaps I should find one and give it a try.
      Aunt Alice, I hope you are not ill.

      Lovely Lily

  42. Oh Lily ever so lovely, I am ill. Ill I say, and say it again. I am worried beyond worry with worry about dear Auntie in a room with Sherry and perhaps....Kinky! What can they be doing?
    Could they be redecorating do you think? Painting perhaps in.......Grey?
    But worse worry lies within me, or rather it was, but so much now.
    Poor Spot has a tummy ache of such magnitude that it hurts something awful. I need urgent medical attention and some nursing during the night when I am at my lowest ebb.
    Please, Lily ever so Lovely, send help or failing that, send ice-cream.
    Where is the maven of ravens Auntie Alice?
    Desperately seeking Alice. Signed Spot.

    1. I am so sorry you have a tummy ache, Spot. Can you find a peppermint candy to eat? I hear that peppermint makes a tummy ache better.

      I do not know where Aunt Alice is hiding. Perhaps she and Sherry have found themselves in trouble with people she calls the Jaded.

      Aunt Alice come back to us soon.
      Feel better Spot!

      -Lovely Lily

  43. Jaded, Lily, ever so, Lovely, what is Jaded when it's at home? I have no dictionary.
    Signed: writhing in agony, with no peppermint, wallowing in ignorance and self-pity Spot.

  44. PS. Who is Auntie Alice? I vaguely recall that name.

  45. Dear Spot and Friends,

    I'm back. I turned away for what seemed like just a day or obligaions, I'm afraid I cannot give any details without scandalizing the public at large...and apparently things have unraveled in my absence.

    I AM NOT deep in my cups and sherry, as a rule, is vital to a woman's sanity and existence. I take one small glass each night to soothe my nerves usually, but lately, well... I'll admit I may have had more than one glass on occasion as my Dear Spot's adventures are more than taxing on a person's senses.

    So. All agonies aside. How are you at the moment, dear Spot? And have you worn poor Lovely Lily's patience into vapors? Is she also well?

    I am back. I am here for you, Dearest. Let us see if we can worry less and begin to make some forward progress. I simply skimmed some of the previous posts but after seeing mention of someone named Kinky and bum -itching, I decided to skip a bit...and pray that you're over the mess by now.

    Can you not become attached to a nice, normal girl who won't seek to end your existence?

    Waiting for your reply, dear boy.

    Aunt Alice

  46. Hallelujah God save the Queen and give thanksgiving for the save, glorious, return of Auntie Alice. Spot is saved, but, I must add here Auntie dear one, not just by you.
    Myrtle is Welsh Auntie. Yes I know that must be some coincidence plus the fact that she found and rescued poor Spot, but it's true. She was passing on her penny-farthing bicycle and saw me. I was not a pretty sight I must say.
    My sack was in shreds, my feet were dirty beyond dirty and the rest of me, well; 'hummed' somewhat. The raw potato diet of the last two days did not help at all, but I have lost weight. Myrtle took me home Auntie, and I have had a bath. She offered to scrub my back and guess what, I let her!
    It was tingling...all OVER. I will not go into details but just leave it to say that Myrtle and I 'have knowledge of each other.' It was exciting to learn.
    Her parents, the Jones's, are not home yet but I'm sure they will like me, what do you think?
    I'm pleased that you and Sherry are getting along together, and all is well in the closet.
    Must go, as Myrtle is anxious. Her Mum has come home and I will have to find some clothes to present myself before she sees me, and has a shook.
    I will have to get over my love for Lovely Lily, she will understand, and my fascination of Kinky, but I think I will live here in the arms of my Myrtle, in the ample valleys of happiness, for the rest of my life.
    Must go, as I've seen Mr Jones get out of his car, he is a huge man Auntie and seemed surprised to see me waving at him from the bedroom window.
    Signed Spot.

  47. Dear Spot,

    If I say "proceed with caution"....I wonder if it would help at this point. My goodness, you do make progress! I am glad that you are safe, sorry about the chafing effects of burlap on your person and happy to hear that you are at least going to be one bath ahead of the game (just in case they toss you out for being a bit forward with their daughter, Myrtle.)

    I beg you, be a gentleman. Less tingling and more restraint.

    If Mr. Jones is less than happy, please remind him that you've suffered a great deal in the last few days and that delirium may have played a part in your current situation. And then by all means, ask if you can call home and assure your family that you are alive.

    I'm sure your father and stepmother are very worried.

    All my prayers,
    Aunt Alice

  48. Dearest one and only Auntie Alice sorry for the delay in replying, I was somewhat indisposed. Mr Jones was not a happy Welsh bunny Auntie. I do hope I can get the image of that saber-toothed, fluffy rabbit out of my mind soon, I am becoming quite traumatised by it all. No matter, where was I?
    Ah, of course, Mr Jones. He, like you I suspect, got the wrong end of the stick over seeing me naked in the bedroom. He thought that Myrtle and I had...well you know....done things....naughty things....we hadn't.
    Reading back on what I had written, I can see how you misunderstood as well. When I said...'we had knowledge of each other,' what I meant was that we swopped antecedents. Nice word that, don't you think?
    As to her scrubbing my back, I was trying to say that all past memories were erased and I tingled over the thought of that. I had better take a class in grammar whenever I get home!
    Now, as to the burlap. I'm pleased to say that I have no injuries there, but that's not to say anywhere else.
    I am a black and blue Spot now Auntie. Mr Jones was not the sort of person to reason with, he preferred using Spot as a punchbag. I had no chance to explain the misadventures I had suffered.
    One good thing came from boxing lesson, I have clothing now and some money. Well to be absolutely honest, it's Myrtle who has the money. She is with me and we are on our way to my home. There is however, some confusion there, and, I dare say, that we will encounter more on the way.
    Mr Jones slung his Rugby shirt at me 'to cover myself up in' he said. Well it does, it comes down to my ankles. The only trouble is that it's a number Two shirt and apparently, so Myrtle tells me, number Two is referred to as 'The Hooker.' I am getting funny looks and being asked 'how much I charge,' Auntie.
    The confusing thing about home is that when I phoned, I'm positive that it was Dad who answered but he said that Braithwaite's, (that's my surname by the way, posh isn't?) had moved.
    Signed, trying to stay out of trouble, Spot.

    PS. My new nashers are to be fitted tomorrow, but Myrtle seems a little put out by that. You were right, it was her who was sucking the peppermint chewing gum sticks out of my mouth, and now she is a bit miffed at the thought of not being able to do so. I hope she doesn't stop kissing me.

  49. Auntie dearest, dearest, dearest, where forever art thou? I need you! Myrtle and I are at number eleven and a half Three Point Turning, that's where I live by the way otherwise I wouldn't be outside of course, and no-one is here. Worse, the place is bereft of everything....... Did you like that..'where forever art thou'...and the...'bereft?' Good aren't they. Spot is going up in the world.
    My tin soldiers are gone as are all by comic books....and....the fridge is empty. Myrtle is looking decidedly gloom, oh dear.
    What shall I do?
    Signed, less than a happy, Spot.

  50. Dear Spot,

    A friend invited me out for a country drive but I didn't enjoy a minute of it as I was sure that while I was away, you'd be in some dreadful danger. AND I WAS RIGHT!! I'm so sorry!

    I'll admit that when you use a phrase like "having knowledge of a person", and you are prone to move quickly when it comes to asking girls for kisses and MORE, I can see how Mr. Jones may have gotten the wrong idea.

    Naked men should never attempt to speak. Pants first. Then you can talk. (Remember that rule, Spot. It will serve you well throughout your life.)

    Now, as to the present worries...let us be practical! You must contact the authorities and let them know that you have been abandoned and terribly abused. Describe without too much about the desire for snogging and with all the discretion you can muster (as in leaving out Ms. Kinky, much of the Opals and angst you can, tell them what has happened. Or better yet, point them to our letters and all will become clear.

    You must get help! There must be some adult at hand who is willing to step in and take you under their wing!!! And Myrtle as well!

    I will not rest until I receive your reply!

    Aunt Alice

  51. Dear Auntie all seeing all wise Alice, I must be BREIF........Good that, eh? Brief...Pants...Get it Oh great one?
    I have met a psycho something, he may be about to help Spot and Myrtle. Be back later with news.

  52. Dear Spot,

    Where are my smelling salts? I swear you're going to give a poor old woman the vapors with these brief (yes, dear, very're very clever) and horrifying notes!

    Psycho somethings are NOT to be trusted. If he invites you to take showers, decline his offer and run away.

    I will be standing by for word of your survival.

    Yours in distress,
    Aunt Alice