September 2015


Life gets very strange when you think too hard about the world around you.  I just about cope when people occupy the seat next to mine if I am in the coffee shop or out to lunch.  I sit there wondering who these people are that could very well step into my personal space without thinking.
It gets even odder when you get information on how your website, or in this case page, is doing.  Who are you, who actually takes the time to read my material?  I learned for instance that in two days prior to my page being promoted on Facebook 12,000+ British and over 15,000 US readers stopped by.  Thank you.
The stats went on to reveal visitors from Japan, China and various parts of Europe but the single entry that caught my eye came from Chile.  A single visit from a country in South America that I have never been to and as far as I am aware never written about, so who was that single visitor?
Unfortunately the statistics don’t narrow down where in a country a person lives so I have to picture the visitor in my mind’s eye which anyone that really knows me will tell you in a whisper that my imagination is probably not a pretty place to dwell.

Worn Out Boots

Feb '15

March '15

Aug '15

Sept '15


Truth About Fracking

Left to my own thoughts I imagine a lonely alpaca farmer, probably called Vincente or Javier, sitting on the outskirts of Aucanquilcha (the highest inhabited place on the planet) where our intrepid reader in a search for footwear whilst munching on a coca leaf comes across ‘Old Boots’ and wonders why the ramblings of a Highlander with insomnia has appeared in his search engine.  Of course now I wonder if he will come back.

Aucanquilcha, Chile


I can understand why Americans visit, Britain is an old country compared to the US and its citizens look in once in a while in the same way people in other countries go to the zoo.  America has a special relationship with Britain, they look at us as a giant theme park with funny characters and whacky/quaint buildings and we in turn like their money.  “Look mom that guy has no pants on!” American kids say when they first see a Scotsman in a kilt.  Mentally all British people do the same thing on such occasions, they smile in a certain way whilst the words “Trousers NOT pants and it’s a kilt...” icily play through their heads. 


Maybe American’s see me in the same category as ‘The Benny Hill Show’, ‘Monty Python’ or ‘Are you being Served’, a light touch of comedy with a touch of irony, a sprinkling of satire and a soupcon of innuendo.

In actual fact I am just an angry old man who learned how to use a computer and has way too much free time on his hands.  In another age I would spend the morning writing letters to ‘The Times’ newspaper whilst sitting up in bed whilst still in my nightshirt, occasionally goosing the maid.  ‘The Times’ is no longer delivered, the maid is long gone but the nightshirt remains! And truth be told the only reason I still wear that is because too many frightened postal workers have refused to deliver to the house unless I put clothes on.

Not Jordan but Scrooge!

Not an early example of J in his nightshirt but close!


A funny thing happened to me at the end of August; I started to ponder on the value of friendship.  I have an open door policy when it comes to friends; they come and go, free to return when they fancy a chat or borrow a cup of something.  Coffee or tea is always available and if I really like you I might even put milk and sugar in it if required.
I have no expectations of the people so if I don’t see somebody for a few years it’s not the end of the world.  That’s not to say that I don’t care what happens to them or that they are far from my thoughts, it’s just most people lead a far more interesting life than I do.  I stared out the window and realized that sloths probably have a more active social life than I do.  I flicked through my diary and tried to decide what I should do about it but a magazine article caught my eye so I went to the toilet to read it.
Long ago when I shared my life with members of the opposite sex the only peace I had to enjoy such things was when the door was locked, trousers lowered around the ankles and a pale blue mist seeping across the room and under the door just enough to keep intruders at bay.  Old habits die hard and the littlest room in the house is still my reading spot of choice even though I live alone.

The article was about old people, old SINGLE people, I thought about that for a moment then carried on.  It transpires for many people the strain of going to the toilet can trigger a heart attack.  Old people all over the world can be found by their nearest and dearest, their carers etc sitting dead on the toilet.  I thought about that for a moment, granted if I have anything containing soya it can take a greater exertion than normal first thing in the morning to get the wheels in motion but surely that wouldn’t lead to a heart attack.  I checked the internet, it was true (wifi is the greatest boom to bathroom lingering), but then another article caught my eye.  
A girl had died because her toilet phobia was so great she hadn’t visited one for 8 weeks.  8 WEEKS!  I am lucky these days if I can make it through the night without at least one visit, my body is now on automatic pilot to guide me to the nearest bathroom without waking me up even if I am staying in a hotel.
8 WEEKS!  When we were kids and the four of us would be piled in my mother’s beaten up Triumph car for a long journey we would be lucky to go 8 miles without at least one of us needing to go.  Frequently trips would start with my mother’s query “Have you been?” followed by “Well go again just in case...”
The words of both articles lingered in my brain and I checked my mobile phone, the signal bar was almost full, bring on the Grim Reaper, daddy has the power of communication.

So once again I thank those of you who have stopped by, took the time to email, shouted at me in the street etc and I hope you will call again.  Please visit the gift shop on the way out.

- J.

‘Swansong’ by GM Jordan’s is published by Markosia and is available from Amazon and on all good e-book platforms.


Swansong SC

'Swansong' by GM Jordan (Markosia, 2015)