Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Last Thursday, endeavouring to address a recent indifference towards and break from writing, I participated in a writers 'Open Mic' evening in Harrogate. This clambake afforded eleven fellow authors and myself opportunity to showcase our literary wares. The event offering its audience a tempting mix of poetry, thought provoking and irreverent fiction, along with comedic... Continue Reading →
This morning, as I tentatively peeled back door 10 of a homemade advent calendar gifted by my partner Sarah, yours truly was greeted by the word ‘Bollocks’. Her mischievous cardboard festive trinket bearing 24 curse words, each carefully chosen from my beau’s vast swearing vocabulary. These off-colour greetings hidden behind numbered doors haphazardly carved on... Continue Reading →
I’ve not written much of late. For no apparent reason my mood has been low; draining any motivation to indulge in literary projects. Perversely, annoyance at myself for being in a low spirits for no reason has sent my mood even lower. It has got so bad, yesterday evening GJ Strachan had a word with... Continue Reading →
A phalanx of baristas and customers seeking a caffeine hit surround me as I commence this missive. A south Leeds retail centre’s café affording me a domain to place my buttocks, rehydrate and stir whatever creative juice pool I can muster. After tweaking my back yesterday afternoon, this journaling accompanied by intermittent lumbar spasms. Stretching... Continue Reading →
“If only I don't bend and break, I'll meet you on the other side, I'll meet you in the light. If only I don't suffocate, I'll meet you in the morning when you wake.” Thoughts and emotions I heard relayed last Friday evening. To clarify the above wasn’t delivered as a morbid goodnight message from my partner, Sarah. An audio... Continue Reading →
I am a man of simple tastes. Give me sight of a beguiling smile, visions of a ‘Six bottles of wine for the price of Five’ sale sign, or the sound of a woman saying, “Ok, Gary, I’ll rescind my restraining order application!” and I’m in clover. For most of my adult life I barely procured... Continue Reading →
Yesterday witnessed the birthday of one GJ Strachan from Wakefield parish. A low-key day celebration wise seeing the hirsute mischief maker attend an online writing group, embark on a shopping centre visit, along with an afternoon at the park with his beau, her grandson and dog. My evening at home was quiet, watching YouTube clips... Continue Reading →
Today's literary offering is a submission I read for a bi-weekly writing group I attend in the village of Spofforth, North Yorkshire. For those who don't know where Spofforth is, it is on the outskirts of Wetherby. If you don't know where Wetherby is and really want to know, bloody Google it!... Chuffing hell, I... Continue Reading →
Last Saturday saw my first day at the races since pre-COVID19 lockdown. The outing part of a weekend in Newcastle with my son-in-law Simon; meeting up with my brother Ian who lives across the River Tyne in Gateshead. Incidentally, although I refer to Simon as my son-in-law that is not strictly true. Well not since... Continue Reading →