Post-heart attack I've unsurprisingly striven to avoid situations that'll raise my blood pressure. Consequently, I'm currently staying clear of listening to/watching Leeds United games, listening to/watching Leeds Rhino rugby league matches, exposure to England Test crickets encounters and (apart from writing) numerous other avenues of pleasure. I'm also attempting to stay clear of my wife … Continue reading Patience Required
Post-haircut, I'm writing this literary effort sitting outside of the Botanist pub on Boar Lane, Leeds. It's nippy out; however, keen to avoid legitimate observations like "Well go sit inside and sit where it's warm you pillock!", I'm reticent to complain about today's late winter chill To be honest, being well wrapped up against the … Continue reading Chilling in the Chill
It's Tuesday morning and GJ Strachan is suffering from a severe case of writers block. Annoyingly, the ordinarily creative segment of my brain currently bereft of an inspirational epiphany or notion. Even the memories of my Gateshead childhood, which have proved so fertile in the past week, thus far unable to produce a narrative topic … Continue reading The Saving Mr Banks
During the half century I've resided on this dysfunctional planet I've been confronted by numerous intriguing life questions. Among them an irritational compulsion to unearth what the Q stood for in the name of my childhood optician JQ Summers. The affable Scotsman who practised his ophthalmic trade in a shop opposite the Cannon pub on … Continue reading Q
Within the past few days I've shared a trilogy of narratives (Lunchtime Lounging At The Griddle, …. And The Teachers Get The Money! & Duck!!) regarding whimsical, partly fictional, recollections of the Gateshead senior high school I attended between 1977-79. This education establishment, which became victim to the wrecking ball a couple of decades ago, going by … Continue reading Breckers Aren’t Useless
Today's literary effort sees the third in a trilogy of tongue in cheek narratives surrounding my attendance at Heathfield Senior High School on Low Fell, Gateshead. Sadly for the reader, my trinity of completed works isn't as entertaining as, say, the original Star Wars or Back to The Future trilogies. In my defence, though, I'm … Continue reading Duck!!
During an earlier vignette I penned about attending Heathfield Senior High School, I failed to relay any memories of the teachers who'd the unenviable pleasure of trying to motivate me during term time. This a deeply challenging segment of my life when my only hobbies were sporadically emitting pubescent grunts of discontentment, interspersed with frequent … Continue reading …. And The Teachers Get The Money!