Fleeced

Today’s literary piece commences with my little canine buddy Coco, whose enchanting company I currently enjoy, undertaking a perimeter check of my back garden. Whether partaken as a strategy for reducing jeopardy to her pack, ie me, or that she just doesn’t fancy watching ‘Home Under The Hammer’ on telly, I doubt I’ll ever know….

Pigeon English

Overnight, during a particularly disturbing slumber, my night visions incorporated scenes of being imprisoned in a Turkish jail, similar to that experienced by Billy Hayes in 1978 movie Midnight Express. Unlike the character played by Brad Davis who attempted to smuggle hashish out of Turkey, though, my misdemeanour causing deprivation of liberty was smuggling Pontefract…

Carry On Indoctrination

Yours truly’s itinerary for today incorporates the ‘verve infusing’ chore of ironing laundry – Clothing and bedsheets amassed after yesterday’s sojourn through washing machine and dryer…… Incidentally, that was the laundry, not GJ Strachan, navigating the washer/dryer. Footnote – Yeah, I agree I probably didn’t need to suffix the word ironing with the word laundry….

Grinning Vokes

After a brief sabbatical close to the town of Whitby, I’m back in Leeds. My maison de vacances for the last few days located a five minute stroll from Skinningrove beach, North Yorkshire. It’s unspoilt cove the outstanding feature of this coastal village; a locale which exists in capricious harmony with the North Sea’s unforgiving…

Serenity

Today sees my last day on the North Yorkshire break hastily instigated a week ago in a bid to escape the relentless stress consequential of living at my mum’s abode. Anxiety levels heightened by our increasingly fraught relationship, which’d reached a plateau where yours truly genuinely feared, if unaddressed, I’d undergo another heart attack. That…

A Sherry & Mince Pie, Please!

On opening the Strachan advent calendar door number four this morning I was greeted by the souls of the oppressed. Although affable enough souls, particularly when you take into account the terrible suffering they’ve endured, I’m beginning to hold misgivings about investing in Torture magazine’s festive calendar***. Todays’s bestowal as equally disturbing as the Fingernails of…

“Appen, Veterinary.”

I’m writing this life chronicle in a rural village four miles south of market town Thirsk, North Yorkshire. Apparently farmland on the periphery of this cottage, where I’m residing for a few days, former working haunts of veterinary/author James Herriot. The vet/penman whose series of books were heavily inspired by epiphanies sourced by real-life interactions…

Where There’s No Smoke, There’s No Fire

There’s an engineer due this afternoon. His mission, should he choose to accept it, to repair my mum’s gas fire which has refused to ignite since last Friday. Frustratingly, I tried a variety of unsuccessful strategies to remedy the problem, including exclaiming irritable cries of “Work you useless piece of s***e!” However, this approach failed to…

Armistice

Along with millions worldwide, I observed a two minute silence, marking one hundred and one years since guns fell silent in WWI. The anniversary of an armistice between the Allied countries and Germany – Ending a four year war which saw around 40 million military and civilian casualties. I wasn’t sure which surprised me more,…