I’ve a topic request for today’s blog. Well, that’s not strictly true as it was the style of writing, not the actual subject matter within the paragraphs, which I was asked to alter for this post. The request coming from my Ossett squeeze Sarah’s youngest daughter Katelan who, during a literary critique of my penmanship,…
Tag: prose
A Cat Called Nigel
Today (hopefully) sees the the commencement of calm after the storm of moving from one West Yorkshire residence to another. An odyssey starting in January when my siblings and I first marketed our late parents abode; an episode which ended as 2022’s ninth month dawned. Footnote – Incidentally, I’m not singling out West Yorkshire as…
Driving In My Car
In a dispassionate act, aimed at easing potential transportation issues for my fragrant chum Sarah’s two young grandkids (Rory & Gracie), yesterday I included Ossett’s finest onto my car insurance cover. The rationale behind the indemnity modification (well, apart from me being an inherently kind fella), was a conclusion my four door vehicle would provide…
A Question
To commence this monologue I’ve a question for you, my dear reader. Don’t worry it’s nothing overly technical or scientific; not that you wouldn’t have the erudition to deal with any inquiry I posed, I hasten to add….. Hopefully that disclaimer will cut off any hate mail at the pass. Anyhow here’s the catechism of…
Life Without The Scamps
Despite being very happy with life in the Wakefield apartment whose occupancy I’ve just undertaken, my brio levels are somewhat impaired by tenancy edicts barring me from looking after canine buddies Deano and Zella. Consequently the furry duo, who’ve lived with me for a couple months at my late mother’s home, have returned to reside…
Yorkshire Day
1st August 2022 – Whether they’re spending the next few hours bah t’at or wi’ t’at, I’d like to wish my fellow Tykes a Happy Yorkshire Day. For the uninitiated who’re confused about this tattery of which I speak, they’re references to lyrics within the unofficial Yorkshire folk anthem On Ilkley Moor Bah T’at. It’s…
There’s No ‘T’ In Bradford
As a consequence of her broad West Yorkshire dialect, my fragrant buddy Sarah has an endearing habit of pronouncing the city of Bradford’s moniker as Bratford. A minor quirk which, although captivating, makes me occasionally remind her “Similar to there’s no ‘I’ in team, there’s no ‘t’ in Bradford.” Upon receipt of GJ Strachan’s mischievous…
They Seek It Here…..
“They seek him here, they seek him thereThose Frenchies seek him everywhereIs he in heaven or is he in hell?That damned elusive Pimpernel.” This morning, following a mystifying episode while walking the dogs (who I affectionately dub the Avashight twins), the above words from Dame Emma Orczy’s novel The Scarlet Pimpernel made an unscheduled visit…
Taking Flight
Sitting at the dining table seeking inspiration for today’s literary bonhomie, I’ve my two canine buddies Zella and Deano hovering close-by; their mission to secure scraps from the lunch table. Their pitiful sad eyed look bringing to mind a bowl in hand Oliver Twist when seeking a second scrape of gruel from Mr Bumble. As…