New Writing Venue

I’ve not written a blog for nearly a fortnight now. This literary hiatus consequential of time restraints borne from moving from my late parents home into an apartment on Wakefield city centre’s periphery.

As with anyone undergoing a similar residential transfer will attest, this is a process necessitating the onerous task of packing away all my worldly goods; in conjunction with arranging removal and unpacking at the destination abode.

Yours truly’s buddy Sarah and my siblings Ian and Helen (who also formed part of team ‘Project Move to Wakey’) may beg to differ, but surprisingly I found the whole experience significantly less irksome than envisaged.

In fact on the morning removal men undertook the shifting of furniture and personal affects, my mind was more fixated on a random notion of whether God would have a Costco card; and if so which was his favourite topping on the splendid pizzas peddled within that outlets hallowed walls..

That’s if, indeed, God likes pizza. Being all knowing, the Almighty’s awareness of the pie’s high fat and calorie counts, may use him to spurn the popular foodstuff for something a lot healthier. Such as a fresh air salad with extra lashings of nothingness.

That being said, if the Holy Trinity’s main man possesses a rotund belly similar to that portrayed in The Simpsons movie, I’d posit the big fella doesn’t pay much mind to dietary advocacies.

As yours truly doesn’t wish to risk retribution from you Lord, I’d like to add at this stage that I was only kidding when labelling your good self a porker…… Oh and, incidentally, can I borrow your Costco card; I need to bulk restock on wine and toilet rolls after our Ian’s recent tarry to West Yorkshire.

Sitting here at my desk with writing desk views of neighbouring apartment walls, the local bowling green and Brook House club, GJ Strachan bears mixed emotions. Warmth from knowing, eight months since being placed on the market, his transition between properties is nearly complete. Notions tempered, though, with knowledge our family soon will no longer be able to augment further three decades of wonderful memories bequeathed in this uplifting home.

Apart from two boxes of photographs and two pieces of artwork, my forebear’s home of 30+ years is now bereft of furniture, fixtures, fittings and other stuff beginning with ‘f’…… And, indeed, also words commencing with other letters in the alphabet.

As alluded to above the actual removal day played out with the bare minimum of stress and drama. Filling the skip we hired to dispose of some (in some cases) decades old familial trinkets and furniture wasn’t without melancholy. Throwing away items that’d played supporting roles in Ian, Helen and my childhoods and adulthood was understandably a terrible wrench.

That being said, I’m endeavouring to take the positives from the house move plot-line. Although paying deference to our parents and the wonderful nurturing they bequeathed, perhaps this purge of the past is what’s needed by me to truly grasp the nettle, kickstarting my next existential episode in it’s wake.

In additional to physical hurt, no pain no gain is equally prevalent towards ones emotional wellbeing. Feeling infinitely stronger mentally when coming out from the despair of both parents passing, suffering a heart attack, along with a marriage split within the last few years, I can subscribe to this first hand.

With garden maintenance to undertake, along with two boxes/pictures to retrieve, I’m still flitting between Malcolm and Margaret’s East Ardsley gaff and my new Wakey apartment. Thus far I’ve been too busy to overly dwell on the occasion’s sadness; I suspect, though, it’ll hit me like a wrecking ball on 2nd September when I leave it’s front drawbridge for the final time.

Consequently, I’ll need to add tissues to the Costco shopping list….. Well that’s if God lends me his card!!

New writing view

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