Indiscriminate cacodemon; lesions with evil agenda Patron saint of spite; malodorous mutations Seven years of your malevolence weighs heavy, though breaks me not Despite thy blighting an eighth of mine two score and fourteen summers. Odious demigod, taunting from behind barrier incurable You may win the war, though not every battle initiated Mine betrothed, lion-hearted... Continue Reading →
Return To The Waiting Room
As I commence this yarn, I’m sitting in the bowels of the Clarendon Wing, at the Leeds General Infirmary (LGI). Perched beside me are two family members; dynasty heads, positive of demeanour and caring of character. One is reading an article on cholesterol, during a rare venture from the sports pages of the newspaper, the Daily Propaganda.... Continue Reading →
Politics, Weather & the Poems of Fermal Undies
Another day, another claiming of squatters rights in a hospital waiting room. On this occasion, the trip is for the oncologist to provide a family member with results from a previous weeks CT scan.. Outside the heavy precipitation taps against the waiting area window as if its trying to grab my attention. Irrationally, I opine the rain is goading yours truly; advising I may be safe at the moment, but... Continue Reading →
Claiming Squatters Rights at Jimmys
I’m starting this narrative sitting in a waiting room at the oncology unit St James’ Hospital. An unexpected attendance at the Leeds Teaching Hospital, after a family member was earlier given an emergency referral by his GP. A cautionary move seeking an oncologist opinion about the tumour complications he was experiencing. I assume it’s his tumour the female GP wants a second opinion about... Continue Reading →
All The World’s A Stage
Todays narrative is the 700th since I commenced my literary journey in spring 2015. I started this almost daily journal of partly fictional monologues (based on fact) in the March of that year, its aim a short term distraction from challenging issues affecting my family...... These are enduring issues that still remain very much part of my broods... Continue Reading →
I Was Watching Broadchurch
It's Tuesday 28th March and I’m currently sitting with my missus at a Leeds oncology unit, awaiting her four weekly treatment. As I perch uncomfortable on a blue fake leather sofa, my eyes are drawn to three doors opposite. Adjacent to the matt grey doorways, signage kindly informs anyone who’s interested that this trio of portals lead to... Continue Reading →
A Case Of Mistaken Identity
This morning I spent three hours stood in a local store with a MacMillan Cancer Support collection bucket. My first voluntary work of 2017 took place standing just inside the entrance door of catalogue retailer Argos, in a nearby retail park. As with previous charitable collections I'd undertaken, it was heartwarming to witness the generosity of the... Continue Reading →
Unwanted Gift, Unwanted Guest
After penning a narrative yesterday about my dad, who is a poorly chap at the minute, I was heartened to be the recipient of kind feedback, along with good wishes from family and friends. Amongst this was a request for me to write more about him (Mally) as “...he seems a really nice guy.” This request surprised me a... Continue Reading →
One Day More, Mally!
As I pen this narrative, I'm currently sitting at the Bexley oncology wing with my dad (Mally). My mum, who is also in attendance, reckons today is his penultimate radiotherapy session. Although I'm pretty sure she's incorrect and it's his second last treatment. As I write this he is filling his time reading a tabloid newspaper. It is... Continue Reading →