Looking out from my sedentary position in the dining room of casa Strachan, it’s heartwarming to witness a fresh trimmed lawn, along with the chromatic beauty bequeathed by the still flowering summer and early autumn flora and fauna.

Sedum, crocosmia, flox and begonia, along with the sprouting pyracantha berries presenting a gratifying image of pink, purple, orange and yellow surrounding for the canvas of newly shorn green blades. That being said, the flox provides only a smidgeon of that colour; in moribund state its race for 2019 almost run.

Sadly, la jardin de mere Strachan hasn’t looked this neat for large swathes of the summer. It’s maintenance sporadically neglected due to my intermittent health issues and, at times, seemingly unrelenting West Yorkshire rainfall.

During the unkempt times, looking out on the garden my late father lovingly designed and built in 1990 was a thoroughly depressing sight. However, under strict cardiologist instructions of avoiding heavy garden tasks I’d no option but to watch on frustratingly; taunted mercilessly by the overgrown borders, along with the weed shrewn lawns and patio.

Thankfully, though, in recent weeks I’ve been able to undertake the horticultural grooming so badly required while under summer season’s watch. However, as Frankie ‘The Procrastinator’ Atkinson*** once said “Better late than never!”

*** – The person referenced is a fictional character. If Frankie ‘The Procrastinator’ Atkinson does actual exist it’s purely a coincidence and, instead of complaining about me mentioning his name in this narrative, he should probably address the speed in which he undertake tasks!!…… The tardy get!!

Thinking about it, “Better late than never!” isn’t an adage that applies to all situations. For example, if you’re on death row, or being forced to attend a meeting with a PPI claim salesman, out of the two, I’d venture you’d choose the ‘never’ option.

I’ve gotta admit, I find poor punctuality/lateness an incredibly rude behavioural trait. Especially when it’s habitual and the person guilty of it seems to surmise that you’re the one with a problem if you raise the topic of their tardiness. Infuriatingly, regarding you as a pedant for daring to opine them being five minutes late was unacceptable.

“I’m only five minutes late!” delivered with disdain and as though the person is doing you a favour by only being 300 seconds behind time, is to my mind objectionable behaviour. A trait telling you a great deal about a person’s poor organisational skills, lack of respect and/or selfishness.

What if, at the climax of his assignments, James Bond had’ve been late by five minutes when attempting to stop a member of SPECTRE from causing global destruction!!….. We’d be in the s**t that’s what!!…… They’d be worldwide chaos, looting, anarchy and maybe even a shortage of Marmite!!

It might be worth bearing that in mind next time you feel the need to disparagingly tell someone “I’m only five minutes late!”…… Especially if your a member of the British Secret Service, or indeed just if you love Marmite!

My late father once advocated that “Poor punctuality is worse than committing murder, Gary!”…… A great man, but perhaps bearing a flawed moral compass…… Words that probably explain why the same garden I was waxing lyrical about earlier had a new patio built every other week!!

Right, I’m going to bring this narrative to a conclusion as I’ve a doctors appointment at 4.30pm……. Oh bollocks, my watch’d stopped it’s 4.48pm!!!