The neon signages of M&S, Primark and Supercuts and a throng of busy midday customers provide today’s writing landscape. The seat and table acting as my penmanship perch provided by a well known coffee house franchise. For no other reason than ‘because I can’, the dissenter in me spurning use of the cafe’s wifi network…
Tag: brother
Sandal
My brother Ian will shortly arrive for a two day hiatus at my West Yorkshire apartment. News of my habitually clumsy siblings return to the area of his birth no doubt leading to the flat’s ornaments quaking in their boots. Of course, the ornamental trinkets don’t literally quake in the boots. For one thing they’re…
An Apology
Regular readers to these missives will probably realise I’ve a penchant for occasionally poking fun at my younger brother Ian’s ingrained clumsiness. Observations mischievously portraying our kid as a Closeauesque figure with an honours degree in Mr Beanery from Chuckle Brothers University, Rotherham. I published such a blog last week titled Hurricane Ian – The…
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…
Two Little Boys
Within minutes of his arrival on Friday evening an almighty crash emanated from the downstairs bathroom of our familial home. The sound of ornament breakage so frequently heard during my younger brother Ian’s tarries south from Gateshead to Yorkshire you’d think he arrives accompanied by a crockery shattering theme tune. Knowing our kid had smashed…
Maximus Gluteus
Yesterday, unbeknown to yours truly, I spent the day wandering about the place with a huge tear in the rear of my shorts. The revelation only becoming apparent when undressing at eventide, when upon removing the aforementioned article I spotted a bloody big hole where once cloth’d lain. Mercifully, the adornment of boxer shorts’d negated…
Respite
As I commence this prose, my brother Ian’s just left our mother’s home where he’s been providing me respite from carer to our mater. Him affording me a break from the caring role a huge fillip for his elder sibling. Another boon was my notoriously clumsy brother left the matriarchal gaff without breakage. An achievement…
After The Bout
On this day in mid-1960’s my younger brother Ian made his inaugural appearance into the world. Born at our Leeds home, our kid arrived shortly after Cassius Clay’d knocked out Sonny Liston during their second World Heavyweight Championship fight. With Clay (latterly Muhammed Ali) winning by first round KO, Ian didn’t turn up on time to…
Project On Hold
In lockdown my brother Ian and adult son Jonathon, the brood’s musicians, have both picked up their acoustic guitars for the first time in years. My son didn’t actually play his instrument on picked it up, it was raised from it’s stand to undertake a heavy handed flattening of a spider on his spare room…