“Tonight’s Episode – Hear No Evil!”

This afternoon, a cool wind swirls around the grounds of casa Strachan, consequently the washing line in situ linen sways bewitchingly in my close proximity. A glimpse of the sheets gentle movement so calming it earlier hypnotized me into a drowsy state; a sensation I awoke from as a non-smoker……. That being said, I didn’t ‘light up’ prior to hypnosis by swaying linen, so I’d have been pretty miffed to regain consciousness craving a cigarette.

I’ve never smoked. Not a decision made as part of a judgemental health crusade, moreover finding the habit anti-social from a tobacco smell and dirty ashtray point of view.

Anyhow, as an aside, I’m aching profusely around my shoulder area today; no doubt the result of a couple of days horticultural labouring. My brother Ian told me he believed the root of the problem was an over extended rhomboid. However, I don’t concur, it’s definitely muscles around the shoulder causing my malaise.

Despite his lack of medical training, my brother fancies himself of as a font of knowledge regarding health matters. I argue, though, owning a stethoscope and having incomprehensible handwriting does not a doctor make.

It’s been a real fillip having my brother Ian’s company this weekend. My sibling, whose birth certificate shows him as two years, one month and one day younger than me, is my best buddy, and one of the few people I trust implicitly. That certitude borne from a bond forged over our lifetimes. Well, apart from two years, one month and one day.

Ian and I are so close he even finishes my sentences for me. When I was sentenced for 6 months imprisonment for impersonating a police office, our kid did the last two weeks in Armley jail for me.

My arrest for impersonating a policeman was a harsh cop – After all, I couldn’t help it that I bore a resemblance to portly 1970’s cop Frank Cannon!

To clarify, the above sentence is fictional. I’ve never been in jail, mistakenly identified for Frank Cannon or impersonated a police officer…… Well, apart from me telling a mate to “Book him, Crocker!” in 1977……. Actually, I think I’ve possibly already said too much!!


I remember very little about the rotund fictional TV cop Frank Cannon, other than he was tubby and enjoyed the incredible luck that all villains he ran after coincidentally tripped over trash cans, subsequently allowing him to cuff them.

If memory serves me correct, the US TV cop show Cannon had BBC1’s pre Match of The Day slot on Saturday nights between 1971-1976. A programme I watched if I was allowed to stay up to watch if Leeds United (LUFC) were appearing on the later football show.

If LUFC weren’t on, I tended not to bother watching the cop solve another LA crime. Call me paranoid, but I always felt the bowl of crisps I ate somehow disappeared quicker when watching Cannon. I don’t wish to be unkind, but as a young boy I convinced myself it was the rotund LAPD detective who was stealing them.

Or at least I did until I caught our Ian surreptitiously sneaking the Quaver snacks from my bowl, before starting on his own quota. The thieving get!!

With this in mind, I’d like to apologise to Frank Cannon for wrongly accusing him of Quaker crisp theft in 1975. My insinuation that you were somehow devouring my bowl of crisps purely on the basis you appeared to excessively comfort snack was unforgivable.

Where the hell have all those dry roasted peanuts I had in front on me while penning this gone?!

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