Room Reinvigorated

It’s been a productive couple of days at chez Strachan. Included within these constructive episodes was a revamping of the downstairs bedroom back into a dining room. A reverse of this portal’s adaptation last year following my mum’s February stroke. This stark incident necessitating creation of a downstairs bedroom and wet room, enabling her ease…

Over Thinking Things

Yesterday evening, following a splendid sausage pasta dinner swilled down by an agreeable flagon of pinot Grigio, I found myself watching dark US TV drama Dexter. As the plot lines surrounding the fictional Floridian serial killer evolved in front of me, for a brief juncture, the entertainment lily was gilded further by an accompanying YouTube…

Thoughts From The Care Home

As I begin this chronicle I’ve just returned into my mothers care home room after vacating it while nurses undertook the matriarch’s personal care. While standing out in the corridor, adjacent to Maggie’s chamber, Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s emotive hymn Pie Jesu played out from a neighbouring resident’s room. The refrain’s celestial nature, incorporating prayers to a…

Change of Habits

Keen to avoid depressing analysis of my footballing amours Leeds United’s (LUFC) insipid start to the season, in the last couple of days BBC Radio 2’s breakfast show has been GJ Strachan’s reveille listen of choice instead of my usual morning listen of talkSport. Presenter Zoe Ball’s affable brand of chat and hit music from…

Morning Has Broken

“Morning has broken, like the first morning; blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.” What better way to start my new week than singing the uplifting inaugural lines of a traditional hymn….. Well, apart from perhaps fragrant Aussie actress Margot Robbie bringing me breakfast in bed. Which with all due respect to the refrain’s author,…

Carrying That Weight

With my troubled bonce laid on pillow, a soundscape of incidental Cuban music from US drama Dexter, flashing lights from the TV broadcast producing kaleidoscopic flashes on the ceiling, last night my least ‘rock and roll’ Friday evening for a while played out in front of me. Actually, who am I kidding!….. It’s bloody years…

Lavender

A fragrant redolence of lavender accompanies me while penning today’s literary output in Mally’s Bar (the garden patio area I’ve named after my late father) . Its source, you’ll be unamazed to learn, a lavender bush situated around two feet to my left. This pleasant bouquet soon to be enhanced further by six (soon to…

All Rise!

In yesterday’s blog Grand Designer, I touched upon the thorny topic of god’s existence. A debate fed by a toxic existential brew of prevailing discontent borne from a painful ligament injury,, challenges of being my mother’s full-time carer, life under COVID, along with some pretty unpalatable life events encountered within the last decade . Footnote…

It Is What It Is

I feel moved to enter the idiom ‘It is what it is’ at some point within today’s narrative. As this journal is a literary riff, only time will tell whether yours truly fulfils that aspiration. Although, as the oft used saying is actually present in the first sentence of this narrative, I guess by definition…