It’s lunchtime and I’m commencing this blog perched in an armchair in my parent’s living room. I know I didn’t need to relay I was sat on part of mater and pater’s three piece suite, however I’m trying to add to the scene descriptive.
I realise you probably took it as read that while creating this literary masterpiece I’d be sitting down, not hovering cross-legged with my laptop on my knee.
As I stopped drafting mid-air monologues after last time when I got hooked on the ceiling light, you’re assumption would be correct. An event that resulted in a three hour struggle to free myself before I could return to terra firma.
In my defence, I compromised with the scene setting in paragraph one. I was going to write ‘I’m commencing this blog perched on an armchair in my parents living room. This contemporary piece of furniture is cream coloured apart from the blue stripes, and the sporadic egg stains on the cushion. The yolk markings an unwanted reminder of a time when my mum unconventionally made cake mix in this chamber.‘
As you will have spotted, I chose a more concise descriptive for the scene setting in the initial sentences of this yarn. I thought them too wordy for an introduction to this monologue, so amended accordingly.
While I strive for an epiphany on today’s topic, my parents are sitting (not hovering) in different rooms. Father is living room in situ and mother is resident in the dining room eating her lunch.
They have TV’s broadcasting separate shows which, with the adjoining door ajar, means I can hear both Sky Sports News and a BBC1 afternoon drama emanating from their respective rooms. Admittedly, when seeking creative inspiration, this double barrelled audio diversion makes it far from ideal conditions to write.
Compounding the situation is that my dad is cacophonously sucking a Polo mint in the armchair by the bay window. This contemporary piece of furniture is cream coloured apart from the blue stripes, and the sporadic egg stains on the cushion. The yolk markings an unwanted reminder of when my mum made her cake mix in this chamber.
Of all the noises distracting me, my pater sucking the mint is without doubt the most irritating. God bless him, he is in the early stages of recuperation from a major operation and long may he register Polo eating on the Richter scale, however I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t impacting my thought processes.
If we were in an office environment I’d venture that, under health & safety legislation, there’d be a requirement for his colleagues to be provided with ear protectors.
I’m not sure how many Polo mints my old man has in his possession but, for all my tongue in cheek jibes, long may he be sat in (or even hovering above) his chair slurping peppermint sweets.
As my lunch break draws to a close, I’ll soon be vacating this contemporary piece of furniture is cream coloured apart from the blue stripes, and the sporadic egg stains on the cushion. The yolk markings an unwanted reminder of when my mum made her cake mix in this chamber.
My task for the afternoon is to conclude the horticultural tidy-up I commenced this morning. I’m certainly not complaining about the arrival of our solar stranger, but it was hot work this morning.
Above all, it was good to see my dad looking chirpier this morning. It’s going to be a slow recuperation, but as the first thing he said to my mum this morning was “There’s a great offer on toilet rolls and Hardy’s Stamp merlot at the local shop.” he’s clearly on the mend!
2 kids who've flown the nest, 1 wife whose flown with Jet2. Born at a young age in 1960's Leeds, the author became interested in the literary life when his wife bought him a dog. Having an allergy to dogs, he swapped it for a typewriter. Being unable to train the typewriter to retrieve tennis balls, he reluctantly turned to writing...... Website - www.writesaidfred.org