Not A Lot Of People Know That!

Bereft of a topic, and eager to avoid yesterday’s random sojourn into an ill-advised diatribe on a subject I genuinely have no strong emotions, today I’m returning to pen in my usual jocular style. Consequently, after the positive feedback from my narrative Would I Lie To You?! in which yours truly afforded my reader with whimsical snippets…

It’s Only Words

This morning I spent a period of time creating a document containing eight of my narratives, which I’ve been asked to deliver to a Bedfordshire women’s group at the end of October. The monologues selected by a family friend, also formerly of Gateshead parish, who co-ordinates society events for the aforementioned ladies organisation. The chosen essays…

Impractically Imperfect In Some Ways

“Mrs Dragons, Stanley’s spoiling our skipping game!”  An oft heard piece of tittle-tattle aimed at my mum during her patrols of the Oakfield Infant School (OIS) playground in late 1970s Gateshead. Her role as dinner nanny at the Low Fell nursery exposing the Leeds lady to the regular telling of tales, in particular other pupil’s…

Morning Has Broken

I recall my first day at Oakfield Junior School in Gateshead as a daunting experience. Yours truly a shy five years old who, like most kids of that vintage, was often labelled by adults as only standing knee high to a grasshopper. At that time it wasn’t an adage I ever really appreciated. After all,…

Schooldays Beside The Old Oak Field

“Who wants a game of Japs and Commandos?…. Who wants a game of Japs and Commandos?” A schoolyard enquiry frequently heard at Oakfield Junior School during my fledgling education years of 1968-1974. A chant ordinarily started at breaktime by a small number of boys intent on attracting recruits for their game. A query made by…

Breckenbeds Fields Forever?

Earlier today I published a narrative bequeathing it’s discerning reader unreliable anecdotes from my junior high schooldays. These notions manifesting from the depths of my capricious mind; embellished by fictional addendums sourced from a neurological chamber with a door titled ‘Random’. Breckenbeds Junior High on Saltwell Road in south Gateshead the subject of that ramble….

Breckers Aren’t Useless

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…

Duck!!

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…

Basking In Glory

Sunday 6th May – In Friday’s narrative The Last Ship I penned a parody review of Sting’s theatre production of the same name. A thought-provoking drama infused with music manifesting from the creatively fertile mind of the ex-Police frontman. Within the monologue of this offering I omitted to mention that during a former life Sting taught…