I’ve just returned from my local Sainsburys store where I’ve been stocking up with bananas, oranges, walnuts and a regenerative smoothie. A few of the new healthier dietary companions who now grace casa Strachan’s fruit bowl; a kitchen item that until recently was home to crisp packets and bags of Haribo gummy bears.
Fruit and nuts the more prudent post-cardiac arrest snacking options than my former preferences of cheese and crisps. Those two avenues of pleasure closed, or at least to be less frequented; my objective to reduce the risk of further heart issues. I’ll miss them both dearly, however this approach is now unfortunately a necessity. A self-inflicted consequence from past over reliance on the unhealthy duo as comfort foods.
Changing the subject, I’m awaiting the arrival of a plumber to investigate the root cause of a watermark which appeared yesterday on my living room ceiling. Thankfully, it’s currently not an emergency, as in water isn’t gushing from a damaged pipe with a force capable of bringing down part of the ceiling. However, it’s clearly a plumbing issue that needs addressing in the very near future.
I’ve engaged skilled labour as, apart from the very basics like flushing the toilet and changing the loo roll, I’ve never indulged in much plumbing work. Incidentally, I’m aware flushing the loo and changing toilet paper can’t be classed as plumbing. However, give me a break, at least I flush the bloody thing after I’ve used it……. Mrs Gregstone from Hatchworth, can you say that with hand on heart?!!
Despite wishing I possessed greater skills with spanner, ratchet and plunger, I wouldn’t fancy the occupation of plumber. A role that involves far too much exposure to the less than appealing end product of bowel movements for my liking…… As it is I’m metaphorically up to my elbows in crap on a day to day basis, I’ve no desire to become so in a literal capacity.
As I say, my plumbing knowledge leaves a lot to be desired. That being said, I do know a central heating system doesn’t possess a part called a Swinehousen Flange. A fact I can relay with some surety as I made the name up about two minutes ago.
As an aside, my brother Ian rang me halfway through my penning of the previous paragraph. It was good to hear from our kid, despite his heightening of my post-heart attack stress levels by raising the topic of Leeds United’s ongoing spygate story. A subject that angers me to such an extent I seek to avoid it at all costs.
This non-story currently putting more strain on my heart than any other topical news report…….. Subsequently, Ian couldn’t have stressed me out more if he’d have jumped out of my wardrobe wearing a Jason Voorhees ice-hockey mask and brandishing a chainsaw.
Anyhow, hopefully our kid’s choice of conversation subject hasn’t caused any long lasting damage as I long since regained my composure. Now I’ve just got to get rid of the acute nervous twitch which developed around fifteen minutes ago and I’ll be reet.
