While seeking an epiphany for today’s blog subject a mug of lukewarm tea bearing the well-meaning words ‘Keep Calm & Chill Out’ stares back at me. Dining table in situ, it’s message somehow seems personal, as if pointing out “Yes, Strachan. I’m talking to you!!”
Coincidentally, the teal coloured cup bears the exact wording uttered to me by a consultant cardiologist on my recent discharge from hospital. Sadly, the professor of medicine didn’t also prescribe I adhere to the words that adorn wife Karen’s mug, ‘Keep Calm & Eat Cupcakes’.
On this frosty east Leeds morning, the missus is currently attempting to warm her icy hands by tightly holds the aforementioned mug. with both hands. Karen seeking to extract every ounce of heat from her brew’s chalice. Not the most effective way of heating frozen extremities, but with our central heating system currently unavailable due to leaky pump it’ll have to do.
As I write, a local plumber is neck deep in the airing cupboard working on resolving the aforementioned leak. Well, I’m assuming the sounds emanating from upstairs are him going about his daily work, anyhow. Not that the snap, crackle and popping noises are him eating a breakfast of Rice Crispies while plying his trade.
Karen has just informed me that the ice has just about cleared outside, it’s earlier recalcitrance finally broken by late morning sunshine – A welcome catalyst to a slight rise in temperatures.
Mercifully, there’s also a thaw indoors. The central heating system’s issue resolved, the plumber has departed, although not before handing me an empty cereal bowl and spoon on his way out. Subsequently, chez Strachan’s radiators have begun releasing the home from it’s Arctic grip.
I’ve just received a letter in the morning post regarding my siblings and mine’s appointment as our mother’s power of attorney. It informed me the process is now at a point where, unless we object to the application within three weeks, by the end of February we’ll be able to have Maggie sectioned and sell her house……. Of course, I’m kidding, my brother Ian, sister Helen and me aren’t that mercenary…… We’ll probably keep the home.
Mum’s property possibly being utilised to house a cult which our Ian plans to set up. This a sanctuary for the disenchanted, disturbed, disillusioned and those afflicted by other negative emotions beginning with the letters ‘dis’.
I’m not fully up to speed on the group’s overall objectives, but reading between the lines our kid plans to become the cult’s leader. A position he’ll use to counsel his followers, instilling within them the importance of humanity, love, peace and a Leeds United win.
I also understand Ian plans advocating to his charges the fulfilment attained from a self-sufficient existence, along with affirmation that losing at Trivial Pursuit isn’t the end of the world. Our kid using the elusiveness of attaining the board game’s brown piece of pie (literature category) as a metaphor for how in life we don’t always get what we desire.
His message to his ‘troops’ not to fret if you don’t get the brown triangle; instead enjoy what you have got, ie the blue, orange, pink, green and yellow segments of life…… Either that or cheat, securing the literature piece of pie by attempting to read the answer on the question card’s reverse….. Or if that fails bribing the question master.
Anyhow, a lot needs to happen before our kid can get his cult off the ground. For one, securing ample land for him and his group to produce enough food to sustain a self-sufficient lifestyle.
Right, I’m off to stop Karen troughing on cupcakes, followed by a recuperative stroll to pick up my meds from the pharmacy.
