Whimsical Journals/Caricatures From Deep Within A Capricious Mind
As lockdown protocols begin to ease in England, I suspect there’ll be individuals pondering how to diplomatically backtrack on their lockdown suggestions of “Let’s get together for a beer when this is all over.” In some cases, notions tendered to people disingenuously; foolish promises to acquaintances whose company they’d rather avoid. A friend falling into…
While my mother sits in her armchair watching today’s funeral of Prince Philip, The Duke of Edinburgh, I’ll be shredding a pile of documents in the matriarch’s kitchen. Like jet blasting muck from patios, yours truly find the wanton destruction of confidential documents a cathartic experience. The bank statements, tax code documents and delinquent insurance…
The strain of being a full-time carer to my mother hit me yesterday evening, when I’d an unacceptable meltdown when my plans to watch the live rugby league game were derailed. Aspirations of unwinding in front of the Leeds Rhinos v Wigan Warriors game departing down the same avenue where Lord Lucan disappeared. The source…
Yesterday morning I took my mum for her second COVID jab. With Maggie suffering a stroke not long after receipt of the initial vaccination, I raised questions regarding potential jeopardy levels from a subsequent injection. Fears calmed by assurances there’s more risk to the octogenarians’s health by declining the coronavirus countering serum. Consequently, as West…
Endeavouring to reach the plateau of moving poetic prose my brother Ian produces in song lyrics, at the weekend I asked my younger sibling what his secret was. Misunderstanding to what I was alluding, Ian candidly responded his guilty secret was finding animated dog Scooby Doo adorable. Not wishing to dwell on this revelation, yours…
As I commence this prose, my brother Ian’s just left our mother’s home where he’s been providing me respite from carer to our mater. Him affording me a break from the caring role a huge fillip for his elder sibling. Another boon was my notoriously clumsy brother left the matriarchal gaff without breakage. An achievement…
As I prepare to wax lyrical, my Saturday morning soundscape is Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ accompanied by the sizzle of frying pork sausages. This gratifying aural backdrop augmented by the sound of my kid brother Ian chopping veg to add to the casserole he’s cooking for this evenings potlatch. Footnote – To clarify Led…
True or False Yesterday evening witnessed the latest online quiz which I attend on a bi-weekly basis. This inquisitorial event, testing my buddy and yours truly’s general knowledge to the limit oft playing out with a gladiatorial competitiveness. Episodes where, for a few shared hours, the group strain every cerebral sinew, vying to become the…