Yours truly feels like I’ve been run over by a steamroller this morning….. I knew it was a mistake getting tarmac laid in the front room.

Seriously, though, I’ve woken consumed with fatigue, lethargy, along with feelings of indifference about whether to even pen a blog this Remembrance Day.

However, I must remain disciplined; adhering to the daily objective I’ve set myself of writing a minimum of 500 words. After all, although they’d prefer bequeathals of gold, frankincense and myrrh (well gold, anyhow), these words are a legacy to my kids.

Locutions lovingly crafted for my offspring, which hopefully one day might bring them a few bob. Or, if not, at least afford them an opportunity to save money on barbecue firelighters.

Consequently, I write these narratives underpinned by the mindset that, should I waver in achieving this daily objective, I’m taking food from my kids mouths. They’re both adults now and have fled the nest, but the unconditional love and desire to provide for them never departs the mind of this sentimental old fool.

The fatigue I alluded to earlier has led to me coming back to bed with my laptop. I’ve never written a blog in my pit before, but it’s a darned sight more comfortable than the chairs ordinarily used. Subsequently, GJ Strachan may adopt this writing locale more often.

My neck is aching like hell at the minute. I imagine this discomfort is equitable to what the morning after using an anvil as a pillow would feel like. Looking around the bedroom, though, I see no evidence of a blacksmith’s forging block.

Yesterday, I went for my first walk around Colton for over a year. As written about in this week’s previous blogs, I’m currently housesitting my marital home, which I left in July 2019. This sojourn to the east Leeds suburbs at the request of my estranged wife; who’s ventured north to care for her elderly father.

This tarry affording me the opportunity to once more preamble the streets where I once lived. Pavements regularly trodden between 1996-2019. Much to my dismay, cobbles I’d no option but abandon after my wife and me became estranged.

A sad episode, but one undertaken when things became so toxic in our relationship I genuinely became concerned I’d suffer another heart attack. You get one crack at this life and I chose to protect my health, even though it meant implementing the unwanted act of leaving a wife with cancer.

That choice exposing me to the wrath of many, who sadly don’t seem prepared to hear my side of the events leading to the split. If, after hearing my version of events, I’m still dubbed a heartless so and so at least I’ve been judged from an informed position.

However, I can’t be distracted by what people do or don’t think. If my heart attack taught me anything it’s I have to look after number one. Undertaking a life style aimed at avoiding the damage of my health; no matter how unpalatable and undesired.

Footnote – Above, when stating I need to look after number one, I’m referring to the fact self-care has to be my priority. Not that I’ve been hired to take out a hit on a SMERSH operative.

Anyhow, I need to make tracks – My lunch won’t make itself.