Return of the Strac?

Return of the Strac?

With a blow out of the cheeks and a somewhat overdramatic sigh, I perch tentatively in front of my the keyboard. Today’s goal being the penning of my first blog since 11th December 2025. 

For months any ideas for my once daily pieces, numbering in excess of 2700 posts, remaining locked away in my erratic mind. This literary hiatus a consequence of creeping self-doubt, and a sudden indifference to creating the prose which formerly imparted such gusto.

I’ve used every excuse under the sun to explain away this arid creative spell, from being too busy with my dog, gardening, invigilating, housework, and shopping. Ignoring one wag whose solution to free up time was to train the dog to undertake the gardening, housework, invigilating and shopping.

Sadly, though, Beagles aren’t that easy to train. The ‘loveable’ mutts tending to err more on the destructive than helpful side when confronted by such tasks. In fact most of the gardening, housework and shopping is a consequence of my hound Bella digging up, destroying or eating plants, grass, laundry and food. As for invigilating, as much as her attendance in the exam room would have painted an excellent comedic scene, I’m led to believe it’s solely a human role. 

However, I’m fooling nobody with these excuses not to wax lyric. To clarify, lyrical isn’t my cat. If it had I’ve been I’d have used a capital ‘L’ in the spelling. For one thing, I haven’t got a cat, and if I did I am not cruel enough to wax it!… Anyhow, I digress.

As a retired man, apart from very casual invigilating work, I’ve plenty of time to write. I’ve merely chosen not to; the enjoyment of penning daily prose for my website https://strachan.blog leaving me, as Lucille did Kenny Rogers in the 1970’s eponymous refrain… However, unlike the hirsute country singer, luckily I wasn’t left with four hungry children and crops in the field.

So how did I turn from the Baron of Blogs to barren of blogs? Where did my true love gone, and why did she desert me so?

Footnote – Is writing’s gender a she? Mine is unpredictable, silly and likes watching Loose Women on ITVX,  so maybe yes.

Whatever sex creative writing pins to it’s mast, I’ve decided today to embrace it with open arms as he/she returns back from the cold like the prodigal son… Maybe male then? 

While the prodigal son was away, I’ve had plenty of ideas for when/if he reappeared. For instance, during my blogging sabbatical I commenced writing a book about a 40-something pizza loving man called Luke Crisp and his dog Finn, with a work-in-progress name of ‘Finn & Crispy’. 

In this unlikely tome, which is very much in it’s early stages of writing, the dog reveals to his disbelieving owner he can talk. During their interactions, Finn, assuming the role of a Jeeves to Crispy’s hapless Wooster, despairs and puts right tricky situations resultant from his master’s poor lifestyle choices.

Below is a brief excerpt of the verbal discourse between man and dog while walking to the park while passing a heavy engineering company called Shot Blast Heaven’s premises:-

“Do you think there is such thing as heaven, Finn?”

“I prefer to keep an open mind. However, if there is I hope the dress code doesn’t include lederhosen.”

“Mrs Giles at number 117 claims a medium passed her a message from her husband Alf to confirm he’s in heaven… Alf says the weather and the people are nice but complains the Sky TV reception is sketchy.” Luke revealed.

“I hadn’t realised Alf had passed!’ a shocked Nelson retorted.

“He hadn’t. He was sitting in his shed building a balsa wood model aircraft at the time! He mischievously texted the medium (a friend) to relay the prank!” 

“That must have shaken Mrs Giles.”

“It did initially but after finding her husband hadn’t really passed and Sky TV might indeed work in heaven, she cheered up a bit.”

“Incidentally, do you not think it’s weird everyone calls her Mrs Giles but her hubby Alf, not Mr Giles… No one ever uses her first name.” Luke raised randomly.

“Mrs might be her first name.” the hound responded mischievously.

“Don’t talk bollocks!!… Are you trying to tell me there’s a world whereby the lady in question maybe called Mrs Mrs Giles?!”

“You can’t rule it out!” Nelson observed, struggling hard to suppress his delight at his owner’s clear irritability at this nonsensical discourse.

“Don’t start with all your mischief making again, Finners.” 

“Finners!!… Finners!!… Don’t ever call me Finners again!” the furry fella chuntered. Not enamoured at getting a dose of his own medicine.

“See you don’t like it when the tables are turned do you!” Luke grinned, delighted he’d for once got the upper hand on his smart ass companion.

“I see there’s no sign of St Michael at Shot Blast Heaven’s pearly gates.” Crispy chucked to himself. A less than impressed beagle rolled his eyes in response to his owner’s lame gag. 

“That’s a shockingly poor joke, Luke!… Not only was it inane, but heavens gatekeeper is St Peter, not St Michael.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, St Michael’s the gatekeeper at Marks & Spencer Food Hall in Leeds!”

“Clever shite!”…………

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Other tongue in cheek whimsical ideas I’ve had during my blogging hiatus have been offbeat ideas to fill daytime schedules for Channel 4, or indeed Channel 5 (I’m not a snob). Enclosed a few initial thoughts I’ve contemplated pitching to programme executives:-

Ainsley Chariot – A lunchtime show in which chef Ainsley Harriott cooks a selection of signature dishes for actors who embark on gladiatorial jousts while he cooks. The bloodied participants rewarded with a slap up meal from the chirpy culinarian as a reward for partaking in such barbarism. A scene akin to the after post-match dinners rugby players enjoy; just wiithout the 20 pints of Cruzcampo 

Afternoon MOT with the Ladies – A Loose Women type show set in a automobile workshop. The format witnesses four female protagonists enjoying afternoon while discussing all things menopause, misogyny, celebrity gossip and which mechanic has the nicest arse. During their banter their cars are checked by mechanics for roadworthiness… For the none Brit reader, MOT’s are a yearly check each UK automobile over three year old has to undertake to prove roadworthiness… For those who are Brit’s, MOT’s are yearly check each UK automobile over three year old has to undertake to prove roadworthiness… And you in Wolverhampton, yours ran out in April!!

Fortune Cookie – Afternoon daytime entertainment incorporating oriental cuisine, along with an opportunity for contestants to select a fortune cookie bearing a monetary gift. The jeopardy of the game being to avoid the ‘Don’t eat the chicken satay’ cookie which ‘rewards’ the recipient with a meagre £1, a meal riddled with salmonella and an 18-pack of loo roll… The game an sort of Ken Hom meets Deal or No Deal, meets Japanese gameshow Endurance.

Anyhow, I’m back. Not with the verve of a phoenix from the ashes, but the very fact I wrote this is a start, I suppose.