VCR Memories

This morning, in preparation for the arrival of a garbage skip later this week I’ve undertaken the stress busting task of smashing up a single bed with a lump hammer. Like pounding a punch bag, which I undertook during circuit sessions when pre-COVID gym visits were allowed, it’s a chore bequeathing an immeasurable lightening of…

Your Sartre For Ten

Under current COVID-19 restrictions, the cliche of everyday being Groundhog Day has been mooted frequently. However this week, on 2nd February, marks the actual Groundhog Day. An occasion citizen’s of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, observe the behaviour of local groundhogs as they emerge from their burrows. In particular their reactions to that day’s meteorological conditions. Folklore decreeing:-…

True or False?

In lieu of today’s daily observations, I enclose questions yours truly wrote and delivered during yesterday’s Zoom quiz with buddies. Endeavouring to augment the already high levels of brio imparted by fellow participant, my inquiries the usually absurd ‘True or False’ format. A concept habitually adopted for these occasions by GJ Strachan. Please note, any…

Putting The Freshness Back

Yesterday morning, the downstairs of my marital home (which I’m currently housesitting) underwent a thorough spring clean. This sanitisation an upgrade from the twice weekly cursory dust and vacuum ordinarily gifted to the furniture, devices and ornaments. Consequently, Wednesday witnessed enhanced dustocide’ including the removal and cleaning of all tomes residing within the book case….

Decluttering Steptoe’s Yard

Endeavouring to negate my mum’s garage looking like Harold Steptoe’s rag and bone yard, this morning I booked a local council skip delivery. Consequently, in the not too distant future, Gascoigne J Strachan III will declutter the abundance of currently unused bric-a-brac residing in mater’s car shelter. Footnote – Incidentally, my name isn’t really Gascoigne…

An Unusual Choice

As with most people, ordinarily I wake with little, or no, recollection of the dreams which’d played out during slumber. This morning, though, upon reveille GJ Strachan could vividly recall sections of his night visions, including unlikely scenes of being in receipt of a neck tattoo. Within this slumbering storyline, my body art of choice…

Fragile

On Friday evening, I’d a telephone discussion with my son Jonathon. During our habitual mix of silly exchanges interspersed with the occasional sensible snippet, my eldest offspring and me mulled over the conundrum of him retrieving of a parcel he’d inadvertently addressed here (his childhood residence). This issue clouded by our desire not to breach…

Ah, That Explains It!

This morning, while pondering the clothing best suited another day languishing at home, I noticed the arran sweater I’d adorned yesterday had all its buttons completely secured…… Ok, I admit it, it’s a cardigan, not a jumper. Laid on the bedroom floor, where it’d been unceremoniously dumped the previous evening, witnessing this sweater fully fastened…

Hope

“Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness the world affords.” Samuel Johnson The above proffering from acclaimed 18th century scholar Doctor Johnson, whose grasp of the English language is mooted by many, including my colonic irrigation therapist Niahm, to’ve been unsurpassed for over 250 years. Despite his amazing insight into…