Nightshift

Last week, I was chatting with someone who asked me to tell them about my stroke experience. It was an interesting conversation, for me at least.

Knicks suck!
“Fascinating stuff, Stroke Bloke.”

I love that I can’t tell whether that’s Curb Your Enthusiasm or an actual sportscast.

[For more unbearably exciting stroke-related whimsy and suchlike – the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Nightshift

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Beautiful Losers

Week Three of the World Cup has come to an end. And what a [🚨 CLICHÉ KLAXON!!! 🚨] Feast Of Football it’s been. Notwithstanding that Brazil continue to elicit roughly the same amount of sympathy as their 1994 World Cup-winning edition of vicious bores, rather than 1982’s beautiful losers.

[Feeling bereft as the games begin to dry up? Pass the time with the Apoplexy Newsletter.] Continue reading Beautiful Losers

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World Cup Fever

It’s day six of .

So if you’re worried that you might be exhibiting symptoms of World Cup Fever, it might be a good time to ask a friend to check you out.

The Lester Piggott of football
Unfortunately, this victim has no friends.

Are you worried about WCF? Read on for a guide to identifying the symptoms.
But first, get today’s soundtrack from the Apoplexy newsletter.
Continue reading World Cup Fever

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Lingo Frankly

Hiya! Sorry to miss you last week – it’s been a pretty hectic few weeks. Here in Edinburgh, we’ve been marking Good Life, Good Death, Good Grief‘s Death Awareness Week, and the Hidden Door Festival has been taking place down the road in Leith.

Get yer sambas oot
Aye, there’s a pretty interesting story about this.

[For more about those sorts of things, check out the Apoplexy Newsletter.] Continue reading Lingo Frankly

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Gold Strikes

I finished that bit on Le Corbusier, the godfather of Modernist architecture. When I said the bit would be more serious and more absurd than last week’s post, I was half-right.

Le Corbusier: Stealth Scot
“Absurd? I’ll take ma open haun off yer face, Sonny Jim.”

Sure, some nuggets of truth are hidden among the 6m 40s of A Story Is A Machine For Living In, but there are plenty of nuggets of sweet absurdity to keep folks engaged.

This got me to thinking about how, sometimes, the medium is the message.

[Talking about absurdity, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Gold Strikes

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Open Hand

We’re thinking of going to pick up a new desk tomorrow. One of those ones that incorporates the wall into its structure, and folds flat into the wall when it’s not in use.

Don't you tell me to calm down, Wiinner
“Calm down, dear. You’re getting a bit ‘A Room of My Own‘”

Sorry, Michael. I’m going somewhere with this.

[Find out if I’m bluffing below. But first, check out the Apoplexy Newsletter.] Continue reading Open Hand

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Specimen Daze

I can’t say that I’m any less furious about the state of the world this week than I was last week.

LOOK WHAT BEING A ROYAL BROOD MARE DID TO ME!!!
CHEER UP YOU MISERABLE SOD!!!

No. Shan’t. I don’t care what you say, Royal Baby Announcement Town Crier Guy. I’ll thcream and thcream ’till I’m thick.

[Maybe a good tune is what we need – check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Specimen Daze

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Apoplectic

As long-suffering readers of the blog may know, one of the potential changes a stroke survivor might go through, is an increase in the frequency of anger. The UK Stroke Association suggests meditation to ameliorate the negative emotional changes that a patient go through.

Stroke Bloke, 2009
DON’T. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO.

[Maybe a jaunty ditty from the Apoplexy Newsletter might help?]

Continue reading Apoplectic

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