This morning, I awoke in fairly decent spirits, borne from a scene of autumnal West Yorkshire sunshine. This verve augmented by waking to recollections of yesterday’s impressive performances from my sporting amours Leeds Rhinos and Leeds United.

The former beating Wigan 26-12 to reach the 2020 rugby league Challenge Cup Final against Salford, at Wembley. The latter accomplishing a creditable 1-1 draw against Manchester City, a club who reside at the top table of Europe’s footballing guild.

It has to be said, last night’s beer’s flavour raised a notch or two as a consequence of those decent results/performances from sports stars representation my hometown.

In stadia bereft of supporters, we fans have little, if any, input into these victories. That being said, our subsequent elation levels are probably equitable to that of the heroes we’d witnessed working their socks off to attain Saturday’s brio enhancing achievements.

Unlike following a negative result, this victory esprit leads to GJ Strachan spending Sunday scouring various sporting websites for any snippet relating to your idols performance.

Buoyed by vigour resultant of your team’s impressive account of themselves, TalkSport radio phone-ins become different soundscapes. My fit of glee affording even the most deluded and uninformed caller a free pass during their misguided diatribes…… Well, I’m less reticent to yell “Bloody idiot!” at the radio, anyhow.

So Sunday morning sees me in a decent mood. The lift in spirits much needed after a tough week, attempting to ease the transition of my mate Sam’s life without her recently deceased mum. Utterly helpless, a task undertaken with little hope of me providing tangible comfort to the recently bereaved.

Today, GJ Strachan plans to complete this narrative, followed by pursuing my other creative amour, drawing caricatures. Chromatic bookends of the drawing will be making lunch and dinner for my mother and I.

Preparing a roast beef dinner and all the trimmings accompanied by a backdrop of TalkSport radio providing me with a level of catharsis. Even before the platter of cooked fare arrives at the table, the redolence of the cooking process has afforded an alluring accompaniment to my Sundays for the last half century.

One whiff of Yorkshire puddings, beef, roast potatoes, veg and gravy and I’m transported back to the early 1970’s and my grandma’s home in Calverley; or our Gateshead semi on Low Fell. The radio (or wireless as it was still referred to then) playing shows such as The Grumbleweeds, Charlie Chester’s Sunday Soapbox, Sing Something Simple and The UK Hit Parade.

Footnote – To clarify, Sing Something Simple was a light entertainment show where the Cliff Adams Singers performed old and new refrains….. It wasn’t an order aimed at Benny from Crossroads to perform karaoke.

Sunday’s during my fledgling years were much different to now. Apart from newsagents and public houses, the more ecclesiastical edicts of the 1970’s forbidding the opening of other retail establishments.

Meaning, if you wanted a tube of spangle sweets, a pipe cleaner or Rizla cigarette papers you were sorted. However, any requirement of most other comestibles, such as milk and bread had to be put on hold until Monday morning.

Anyhow, Rhinos and Leeds Utd, thanks for making my Sunday morning one of contentment, warmth and fluffy headed hungover.

Right, I’m concluding this blog now to see if I can find any refrains from the Cliff Adams Singers on YouTube.

Bingo!!….. Altogether now ‘Ring, Ring it’s green they say on the far side of the hill…..”