Be Yr Own Brain Experiment II

No so long ago, I was reading the final proof of my survival memoir, Stroke, before my publisher Sandstone Press sent it off to the printer. If you can’t wait till January for the – I’m reliably informed – beautiful hard copy artefact, you can get a brilliant deal and receive the e-book before Christmas here. Just tell ’em Stroke Bloke sent you, and leave a complimentary review. 😉

Replacing the original pull quote: 'Wet-yourself-funny'
C’mon, folks. You’re making my book blush!

It’s interesting to reflect on the events of six years ago, now that our lives are in some sort of equilibrium again. Notwithstanding Stroke Bloke Jr’s efforts! And the fact that the big push for Stroke: The Book is in the offing.

[Check out the Apoplexy Newsletter for more wryness and more personal insights.]

Continue reading Be Yr Own Brain Experiment II

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Treasure Islands

Happy RLS Day! Robert Louis Stevenson is 168 today.

Hoping flattery will get me everywhere
Don’t worry, Bob. You don’t look a day over 43.

He really doesn’t though, does he? Look at the light in those wee eyes! To look at him, you wouldn’t believe that he would be dead by the end of the next year.

[For more personal and whimsical reflections, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Treasure Islands

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Political Football

In recent days, I’ve been cutting down on my consumption of BBC Radio. I think that it’s incumbent upon the responsible citizen to keep themselves informed so they can participate in democracy, but I’m increasingly unsure that listening to Today or Good Morning Scotland or The World At One or PM is a good way to do that. Particularly now Eddie Mair has moved on.

Stick with me – there’s fitba and a bangin choon at the end of this one
Check the Apoplexy Tiny Letter for a soundtrack to keep you going to the bottom of the page.
Continue reading Political Football

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Tour de France

For some reason, I was thinking the other day that I’ve “only” ever been to France once.

Because we're, like, super conpetemt.
“Hey, look! They’ve got the same editorial team as BBC News!

And I was thinking, maybe I should try to fix that while I still can.

[My whimsy’s just about been extinguished, tbh. Find the last of it in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Tour de France

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Making Everything Better

Hi there!

I’m aware that the posting schedule here at apoplectic.me has been a bit erratic recently. Sorry about that.

Nice hat, mate.
Erratic? I’ll show ye erratic, sonny – Thom Yorke

If you’re of a mind to follow me on the tweetie box or like and follow my writer’s page on Facebook or sign up for the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, the excuse for this will be revealed early on Thursday afternoon, Edinburgh time.

In the meantime, let’s stick to the stroke news, shall we? Continue reading Making Everything Better

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Modus Operandi

So, the last post here on apoplectic.me cast a pretty sneering eye over Public Health England’s Heart Age Calculator. And if you think that an eye can’t sneer, welcome to the stroke blog.

Nah, the boy did ok.
‘Aren’t you a bit young for this, sonny?’

That’s pretty much the modus operandi around here – bitter cynicism leavened with fun. Skip down to the bottom of this post if you just want to hear some of the best Scottish pop ever.

But it turns out that this time, I wasn’t alone in my cynicism.

[Maybe there’s actual upbeat stuff in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter – check it out] Continue reading Modus Operandi

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Young At Heart

Mrs Stroke Bloke and I have been catching up with the BBC Scotland documentary series Rip It Up: The History Of Scottish Pop.

In a sufficiently leisurely fashion that we haven’t reached this yet:

A deathless classic, I’m sure you’ll agree.

[For the most leisurely stroll through Scottish pop possible, check the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Young At Heart

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Where Are We NOW?

We’re at the fag-end of August, almost six years after the moment that set off the series of events that would change Mrs Stroke Bloke’s and my life forever. But no doubt we’ll get to that in due course.

For now, the Edinburgh Festival has just finished and the smell of sulphur from the massive closing fireworks display that rattled our windows last night is fading.

The Devil Offers Zero-Hour Contracts
‘What? No, that was just me running my venue.’

[Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, where the devil always has the best tunes.] Continue reading Where Are We NOW?

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Judge Dread

Clearly, I was spoiled for news stories to cover last week. Even this week, and more specifically today, a lot of things I’m interested in have been cropping up.

Trump‘s been in the news a bunch, but I’m not going to spend any time on the details of that. I mean, who’s got the bandwidth to constantly maintain the rage?

Seriously. How has he not had a stroke?
A: This guy?

No, the most interesting thing I learned about Trump this week keyed into my interest in the amount of time we spent at work.

[Waste your time at work with the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Judge Dread

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