Over the last twenty four hours or so, a visibility hampering haze has engulfed West Yorkshire. This ‘pea souper’, as my mum would call it in her distinctive Leeds brogue, creating a macabre dream-like scene outside.
Unlike my night vision last week where fragrant actress Margot Robbie and me led Leeds United to only their second FA Cup win in history, it wasn’t an overly exciting dream. However, despite the uninteresting storyline, my view of this corner of god’s own country is still one of aesthetic beauty.
Incidentally, if you’re football team’s ever short of an accomplished wing-back, you could do worse than turning to Ms Robbie. The Aussie lassie has speed, stamina and the capability to unsettle even the most robust of defences with her accurate crossing. Her pass for my header (which turned out to be the goal that clinched Leeds the cup) was exquisite.
Margot not the first flying Aussie to represent the West Yorkshire club with such distinction. That being said, though, I’d like to think she leaves the club on good terms – Not under a cloud, or ‘pea souper’, like a former antipodean from the O’Leary class of 2000.
Anyhow, as I stare out onto my mum’s East Ardsley garden, this fog is only allowing me foreground scenes. Any distant views made clandestine by the weather gods’ malfunctioning smoke machine. As I write, Athena and Hestia frantically attempt to resolve the issue. All previous attempts, which include unplugging the machine, thus far failing to mitigate against output of the billowing icy mist.
Over breakfast, attempting to understand if the haze was shortly due to abate, I asked my mum if she’d seen this morning’s weather forecast. After a brief pause, the old lady responded “No!”…… Apologies, but I’m afraid that particular anecdote doesn’t get anymore interesting!
Anyway, regardless of meteorological conditions my weekend plans are on hold at the moment. My wife Karen currently attending her very poorly mother’s bedside at a Newcastle hospital. I won’t comment further about the severity of her affliction, other than say it sounds serious. I can only hope my already emotionally drained spouse will receive something positive to cling onto sooner, rather than later.
Due to uncertainty about the circumstances, I don’t want to tie myself to any plans/events this weekend. I’m presently awaiting Karen’s update into her mum’s condition, before even deciding on my afternoon itinerary.
Ironically, only yesterday, in https://strachan.blog/2018/11/22/deserved , I wrote a somewhat disjointed narrative about karma and it’s penchant to dish out punishments that didn’t seem to fit the ‘crime’. My little missus a prime example of this seemingly inequitable life sentencing by the misguided ‘righter of wrongs’.
God bless her, she never seems to get a break – Well, a lucky one, anyhow!
Looking out of the dining room windows at my mum’s house, the haze still lingers. Akin to the macabre Yorkshire Moors scenes in John Landis’ 1981 movie American Werewolf in London, the concealed horizon leads to creative epiphanies of dangers lurking behind this curtain of low cloud.
Incidentally, I’m not for one moment advocating East Ardsley has a werewolf (American or otherwise). That being said, though, if my back hair and beard continue to flourish at it’s current pace yours truly may soon be mistaken for one!