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: words
Cerebrum Confidences
In recent times notions relating to my late father have been amongst the numerous visitors to my mercurial mind. My cerebrum in receipt of thoughts relating to the old fella who four years ago passed away, depriving my brood of his inherent warmth, kindness, wisdom and love of family. Amongst memories appertaining to the patriarch…
Witnessing Euphoria
Yesterday evening, in between writing an absurd ‘True or False’ round in preparation for tonights Zoom quiz with buddies, I watched two Sky Arts recordings of live concerts by multi million album selling bands. Both musical bonanzas performed by British groups in two historic and cosmopolitan European capital cities. Incidentally, this isn’t a riddle, I’m…
Hilda Chinwag
Yesterday, a family friend inquired about the creative process I follow while structuring fictional characters within narratives. They also enquired what time Binks’ butchers on Bradford Road shut on a Friday. I was able to answer the first question but, as I’m not a chuffing opening time directory, I told them they’d have to research the latter online……..
They Don’t Write Themselves
One of the sternest challenges when writing a daily blog is unearthing a narrative’s subject matter. Consequently, it’s not unusual for me to spend part of my morning staring at a blank laptop page, gracelessly slurping on a cuppa until experiencing the aforementioned topic ‘light bulb’ moment – A notion which I’ll only adopt if…
Brass Monkeys?
On wandering downstairs this morning I concluded prevailing temperatures to be pretty mild for this time of year. Looking out onto my garden, I’m assuming this warmer climate is a major factor in the lack of notable deciduous leaf fall. A sight leading to me suggest Fall appears reticent to drag its chromatic posterior from…
Rhyme But No Reason
Friday morning retail hordes provide the bustling sight while I gaze below from a mezzanine in situ cafe. The first floor coffee house whose title rhymes with Hosta a frequent penning post for GJ Strachan. An outpost where cognitive inspiration joins caffeination leading to a brew of wonderful epiphanies, mediocre notions and a fair share…
Queues
Admin tasks consequential from my mothers passing have meant that yours truly’s spent a great deal of time in the company of ‘on hold’ music in the last week or so. Circumstances resulting in GJ Strachan’s existence seeming to play out in a portal where telephony queues are the status quo and one prays in…
People Watching
Today, I’m back at my goto coffee house writing den at the White Rose Shopping Centre; my first venture here since Wednesday’s return from my Caledonian hiatus. Looking down from my mezzanine perch I can see consumer traffic is light, which is inhibiting the usual topic inspiration borne from people watching. Apart from a woman…