As my dear old mum would say, Thursday 19th June is being played out accompanied by “Weather for ducks!” Incidentally, as no doubt the Leeds lass would’ve prefixed the word ‘weather’ with the mildly cursory ‘bleeding’, I’m paraphrasing at this juncture. The word ‘bleeding’ her go to adverb in the occasions Maggie feels she’s perhaps…
Tag: fictional
Ambrosia
Well, will today bring the advent of anything to upturn the apple cart of our COVID induced status quo? This morning I rose from my bed longing for any joyous news that’d illuminate spirits upon a landscape currently bearing a noir hue. “Can you add some meat onto the specificity bones of upbeat bulletin you’re…
Menu Mayhem
The lower back trauma I wrote about in Gaining Groucho’s Gait, although significantly less uncomfortable, continues to plague me. Sporadic spasms when making sharp core movements reminding me the back injury still holds unwanted tenancy. The sprain’s eviction notice evidently not yet bearing fruit. Bereft of pain while sitting, or laying in bed, occasionally the…
Birthday Boy
It would’ve been my old man’s 84th birthday today. At 9am precisely, and in no particular order, he’d have commenced a ring around of his three offspring in turn. After my siblings Ian, Helen and I had bestowed birthday wishes upon Malcolm, in his engaging Leeds accent, he’d have expressed gratitude for his presents. Our…
New Dawn, New Day, New Month
To almost borrow from Nina Simone’s hit refrain Feeling Good, ‘It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. It’s a new month. But the same old s***e!….. And I’m not feeling good!’ May has taken over the calendar baton from April. A poisoned chalice of immense proportions, rendering the new month with an almost certain…
Present Pedantry
Fifty plus years ago today, in a West Yorkshire maternity unit, I made my inaugural appearance on this dysfunctional planet. An unremarkable event which went much to plan, apart from an unexpected necessity of engaging a tattoo artist to cover up three sixes discovered on my bonce. This body art charlatan, charging my parents £20…
Fervour Upturn In Lockdown
Yesterday, excitement levels of GJ Strachan’s lockdown landscape briefly upped a notch. This short-lived brio arriving in the shape of aesthetic rebirth bequeathed from removing my unkempt beard. Some, well probably everyone, would deem this episode barely warrants mention on the rock and roll lifestyle scale. However, when the day prior to that’s most invigorating…
Red
A few years ago, I randomly chose to write a blog in tribute to Red Buttons. To clarify, the narrative subject I’m was the late actor/comedian who bore that moniker; not the TV remote control button pressed to acquire BBC iPlayer. Born Aaron Chwatt, he changed his name to Red Buttons as his agent pronounced…
Jardin Sanctuaire
After positive feedback, I’ve been moved to publish more of my lockdown poetry. When I say positive feedback, I’m referring to a comment received this morning following yesterday evening’s publishing of my sonnet Legacy To The Progeny …… An acquaintance so emotionally stirred by my prose they posited “I tell you what, Gary….. That poem was nowhere…