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Gary Strachan

2 kids who've flown the nest, 1 wife whose flown with Jet2. Born at a young age in 1960's Leeds, the author became interested in the literary life when his wife bought him a dog. Having an allergy to dogs, he swapped it for a typewriter. Being unable to train the typewriter to retrieve tennis balls, he reluctantly turned to writing...... Website -

Playing With Fire

If nothing else, the weather on planet COVID’s not been overly disagreeable in the past fortnight. Sure we’ve experienced a few gusty days which endeavoured to blow our garden parasol, along with a cluster of garden shrubs, into next week. However, the climates been temperate enough to afford regular tendering […]

Failing To Curry Favour

With a soundscape of distant radio music and children’s brio while frolicking in nearby gardens, GJ Strachan perches garden patio table in situ. His self-appointed mission the scribbling of a second Spring Bank Holiday Monday chronicle. Sheltering from early afternoon solar rays under a hefty parasol, I’m currently afflicted by […]

After The Bout

On this day in mid-1960’s my younger brother Ian made his inaugural appearance into the world. Born at our Leeds home, our kid arrived shortly after Cassius Clay’d knocked out Sonny Liston during their second World Heavyweight Championship fight. With Clay (latterly Muhammed Ali) winning by first round KO, Ian didn’t […]

The Perks of Privilege

In the absence of a COVID-19 vaccine, to fill in a few vacant hours yesterday I pondered what might be a fit for purpose alternative ‘medicine’ to help protect me from the ubiquitous pathogen. Hare-brained I know, but if the gaffer across the pond can indulge in such tomfoolery in […]

Grim & Grime

Unless scenic walks, queuing outside a supermarket, or standing in an empty shopping mall and cacophonously screaming “Aaaarrrggghhh!!” is your bag, under prevailing lockdown edicts entertainment rations outside of the home are indeed meagre. Even the chair of the Entertainment Rations Are Meagre Society (ERAMS), Clive Tyretread, who’s seen some […]

No Cigar

As I start this episode of GJ Strachan’s prevailing existence, an angry West Yorkshire breeze is doing it’s damnedest to blow the eight digitalis, which until yesterday stood vertically with sentry-like authority, into the next village. The gusts rendering flaccid the Plantaginaceae, which pre-zephyr proudly patrolled my borders with an upright gait. Sadly, now […]

Remembering Roger

Moments prior to the contest commencing, five gladiators eyed each other suspiciously, behaviour manifesting from apprehension of what awaited in the fight ahead. This upcoming event only affording victory to one person….. To the victor the spoils!!….. Unless of course there was a two way, three way, four way or […]

Distractions & Deletions

This literary composition progresses with a soundscape of the late spring breeze emanating tenderly through French door. It’s gentle rustle through stalk and leaf bestowing a serene backdrop to my penmanship; this gift of Mother Nature (MN) enhanced further by witnessing a bee collecting pollen from cerise digitalis flutes. During […]

In The Can

My preparations for a music quiz I’m facilitating on Thursday evening are almost in the can. The running order a heady brew inclusive of five shortish quiz rounds, where I’ll portray the role of quizmaster, interspersed with performances of acoustic refrains by three of the inquisition’s main protagonists. Keen my […]