I’ve no proof last Tuesday evening’s incident in a Niagara Falls bar was borne out of malice. The potentially scarring act may well’ve been a misunderstanding; or perhaps an accidental oversight by its perpetrators. I’ll probably never get to know. I can be certain, though, that this occurrence caused a moment of unnecessary stress to its hapless victim. A visiting northern Englishman whose aspirations for the evening were simply to enjoy […]
Door number five on the advent calendar opened effortlessly this morning. A small tug of the sticky tape applied by pilferer of its former confectionery contents (who’ll remain nameless) relinquishing the cardboard door from it’s union with the calendars façade. With aspirations of elevating Christmas cheer levels in the Thirsk cottage I’m sharing with a group of friends, we’re adorning Christmas sweaters and partaking in what for many is a traditional […]
Today sees my last day on the North Yorkshire break hastily instigated a week ago in a bid to escape the relentless stress consequential of living at my mum’s abode. Anxiety levels heightened by our increasingly fraught relationship, which’d reached a plateau where yours truly genuinely feared, if unaddressed, I’d undergo another heart attack. That being said, I suspect spending four nights in a Thirsk cottage writing on my laptop, […]
On opening the Strachan advent calendar door number four this morning I was greeted by the souls of the oppressed. Although affable enough souls, particularly when you take into account the terrible suffering they’ve endured, I’m beginning to hold misgivings about investing in Torture magazine’s festive calendar***. Todays’s bestowal as equally disturbing as the Fingernails of No Return which yesterday laid in wait from behind the calendar’s door number three. It’s […]
I’m writing this life chronicle in a rural village four miles south of market town Thirsk, North Yorkshire. Apparently farmland on the periphery of this cottage, where I’m residing for a few days, former working haunts of veterinary/author James Herriot. The vet/penman whose series of books were heavily inspired by epiphanies sourced by real-life interactions with characters and scenery from this agrarian domain. Market towns such as Thirsk, Malton, Ripon […]
December’s arrived! Consequently, Joe and Josephine Public have reached a juncture whereby, without fear of repercussions from the Christmas tree police, they can now erect and decorate their Christmas tree. Additionally, as a consequence of commencing 2019’s final month, it won’t be long until the very same Mr & Mrs P are subject to visits from carol singers. Warblers whose singing abilities ordinarily vary from cacophonous to the even more […]
On opening the Strachan advent calendar’s first door this morning I was startled be confronted by a creaking noise. Unsure of it’s source, I concluded the sound had either emanated from my yet to warm up middle aged limbs, or as a consequence of rust on the calendar door hinges. With the festive adornments composition being cardboard, though, I concluded the piercing screech to be the former; meaning there’s no requirement for me […]
I’ve just got off the phone from a conversation with my son Jonathon, who lives with his charming fiancee Jenny on the outskirts of York. This conversation incorporating our usual inanely random chatter; topics including UPV door adaptations, aspirations for Christmas gifts, his new love of golf and his idiosyncratic grandma (my mum). My son’s fairly recent love of playing eighteen holes on his local golf course, accompanied by his […]
