Shooting The Breeze

Six days after changing from a positive to a negative COVID condition I’m still suffering from fluctuating energy levels. In fact I was so wiped out on Saturday I slept for huge swathes of the day. Only vacating my pit to eat lunch and dinner, along with a spontaneous episode where I felt moved to yell the word “Flange!” through my open bedroom window.

Hopefully the latter episode was a one-off and isn’t collateral behavioural damage manifesting from contracting my least favourite ailment rhyming with BOVID.

That being said, as I’m unaware of any other viruses which rhyme with BOVID, I’ll admit the adage’s use doesn’t afford you (my dear reader) a particularly clear level of the distain I hold for for coronavirus…… Which is also my least favourite affliction rhyming with boronavirus.

That being said, as I’m unaware of other viruses rhyming with boronavius, I admit…. Errr, actually it’s probably best yours truly moves on at this juncture…… As you were!!

Anyhow, this current health plot line’s introducing levels of frustration whereby, although now thankfully testing negative from the pathogen of doom, my existential outlook now also shows as negative.

The latter disconcerting outcome consequential of my inability to fully shake off post affliction symptoms…. This prevailing situation, where I’m bed in situ more often than not, meaning GJ Strachan’s life currently plays out as an unwelcome amalgam of shirking or irking…… Or, indeed, both…… Incidentally, I’ve not got enough energy for twerking, or any other activity ending with ‘rking’….. Not even smirking.

As a consequence of prevailing disenchantment the augmenting of spirits manifesting from a week in Majorca less than a fortnight ago have dissipated with remarkable haste.

That being said my capricious emotions have just taken an upward spiral after, since penning the previous paragraph, learning (via HMRC letter) I’d overpaid income tax last year. Consequently, I’m due an unexpected refund….. An example of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune of which Hamlet posited, perhaps?

Of course, as Mahatma Gandhi shrewdly advocated, “It is health that is real wealth; not pieces of gold and silver.” As a man who suffered a heart attack three and half years ago, sentiments I strongly subscribe to.

That being said, I defy anyone to contradict my thoughts there’s something extra pleasing about your bank balance being boosted by taxman’s refund….. With the possible exception of collecting a winning wager after getting one over on a bookmaker.

So I started this prose bearing a face (to borrow from my late, great mum) like a pan of s***e. Something I learned from the reflected visage staring back at me in laptop screen reflection as I began waxing lyrical. Chagrin which’s thankfully’s just diminished courtesy of the postman’s midday delivery.

While the red uniformed geezer wandered downhill toward his Royal Mail van of a similar scarlet hue, upon seeing the words I’d overpaid my tax, yours truly euphorically kissed the paper correspondence in front of me. A cliched act perhaps, but I guess unexpected elation has that affect at times.

Yesterday, I travelled to the north east of England to meet up with my brother to obtain his signature for a legal document relating to the sale of our late parent’s home. To be honest the aforementioned post-COVID fatigue made it a bit of a scary drive; requiring a roadside cafe break halfway to afford GJ Strachan a caffeine infusion.

It was good to see the sibling two years my junior. We spent Tuesday evening at the pub opposite the Angel of the North in Gateshead drinking beer, shooting the breeze and eating pizza. It was like an evening at Tony Soprano’s house, minus the shell suits, firearms (we didn’t need them to shoot the breeze) and inappropriate chatter.

Actually, coming to think about it, it was absolutely f*** all like spending an evening at Tony Soprano’s house. Hmmmm ….. I wonder if delusions you’re associating with fictional mobsters is also a symptom of contracting my least favourite ailment rhyming with…… Erm, no I’m not going down that path again!!

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