For some reason there's been a lot of doll-making around lately. (As in, around me - I've not noticed any global phenomenon or anything.)

Firstly came the little cat - a birthday present made from an old jumper. For the sake of this being a tarot blog, I'm calling her the Page of Swords - curious and inquisitive, enthusiastic to get discovering stuff:

Then a big-you-up protest doll for a friend who needs reminding sometimes. I'm calling this one the Three of Cups - a bit of support from your mates:

Then I got into my stride and made a 'positive voodoo' princess - on the surface, demure and well-dressed, a perfect lady...

...yet beneath her fancy dress, a heart full of pins, to be used for pain relief and displacement of hearthache, maybe when it's not totally practical to just let it all out publicly. I think she might be Strength - maintaining a calm control over her demons and her fears without denial, exuding dignity and compassion.

What I wasn't prepared for was the doll I'd receive in return. The Queen of Swords!! And what a queen she is. Those big, all-seeing eyes (not without a generous dose of craziness in them), regal shawl and glamourous dress, well-coiffed hair (well, maybe), pearly earrings and her giant silver sword, pointing straight up into the clear blue sky, a symbol of the wisdom she has gained through bitter experience.

I'm not sure whether I told her maker that the Queen of Swords was my favourite of all the characters of the tarot, or whether she just found her sword in a charity shop and took things from there. Either way, she's my new oracle. Sitting with my cards, guarding them, I'll go to her for guidance when I can't tell right from wrong. My own personal Pat Butcher. And that's something I reckon we all need.