Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Yesterday I wrote of a fictional eponymous character I’d been developing for a yet unwritten yarn with a working title of Hilda Chinwag. A gossip laden harridan, Miss Chinwag revels in her self-appointed role of peoples champion in the picturesque village of Ainsley Scragg. Her daily remit is to right wrongs, as well as concealing herself in villager’s refrigerators with a... Continue Reading →
Wintertide At The Roundhay Fox Parkland situ alehouse Stout of porter and constitution Thou comforting embers aglow Warming soul and spirit from unwanted chill.Wintertide sanctuary from Theoi Meteoroi Sustain thy children until time of bell Till adieus fall silent from thy ears And the Peroni pipes cease. ———————————————————- The Road to Recovery 2014, bereft of... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, a family friend asked me the creative process I undertake when structuring a fictional character on random literary journeys. They also enquired what time Boots the Chemist shut at Colton Retail Park on a Friday. I was able to answer the first question but, as I'm not a chuffing retail park opening time directory, I told them... Continue Reading →
An elderly close family member is due to undergo surgery today, a lengthy procedure that will leave him bed bound for a number of days. It’s surgery that’s not without risk at his age, however it's a necessity to remove a highly aggressive malignancy. Despite the pain he is experiencing from this abnormal tissue growth, there has been... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, chez Strachan had a Smart energy meter fitted, enabling my brood up to date access to statistics about our daily electricity and gas usage cost. It's quite a useful piece of kit, soon proving it's worth by informing us the engineer who fit the device used £1.50 in electricity, the result of all the chuffing cups of tea he consumed during installation. Since... Continue Reading →
A couple of years ago I had aspirations to be a budding Jools Holland or Jamie Cullum. By that I mean become an accomplished piano player, not a short arse bloke who likes to adorn jackets. In my attempt to make this dream a reality, I started attending piano lessons. In conjunction to these lessons, I spent many hours practising at... Continue Reading →
As I commence this yarn, I’m sitting in the bowels of the Clarendon Wing, at the Leeds General Infirmary (LGI). Perched beside me are two family members; dynasty heads, positive of demeanour and caring of character. One is reading an article on cholesterol, during a rare venture from the sports pages of the newspaper, the Daily Propaganda.... Continue Reading →
Fathers Day has been and gone. The fat lady has sung, concluding the day when offspring pay their annual thank you to the parent with the beard...... Unless dad doesn’t sport facial hair, or mum does, making my statement less forensically accurate...... But you know what I mean! Around the UK, dad’s wine racks will have... Continue Reading →
Over the previous two days, I’ve written of unreliable boyhood memories from the Gateshead Fell cricket club scorebox. Tongue in cheek yarns of my rite of passage from scoreboard operative to the 'prestigious' role of scorer for the 1st team. Within those narratives I didn’t touch on playing the game either within the junior team or... Continue Reading →