Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
A few days ago, in the narrative Mills & Croon, I revealed I'd purchased an electronic keyboard with the intention of learning to play the piano. Incidentally, I realise it was unnecessary to add the suffix of 'with the intention of learning to play the piano' as my motive for the keyboards purchase. After all,... Continue Reading →
As I'm pushed for time today, in lieu of a newly crafted monologue, I thought I'd share an old narrative I wrote three years ago today; seventeen days after suffering heart attack. Some may deem regurgitating literary output from three winters ago to be a lazy approach by GJ Strachan. Detractors perhaps opining this notion... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, in an attempt to broaden my horizons, augment my artistic skillset and fulfil aspirations of one day touring West Yorkshire clubs performing a Mrs Mills tribute act, I bought myself a piano keyboard. For the uninitiated, Mrs Gladys Mills was a London born pianist whose star rose during her own middle-age (in the 1960s/70s).... Continue Reading →
I've written before of how creatively fertile my mind can be in the early hours of the morning. A trait which's previously witnessed me both write and draw at some god forsaken hours. Sometimes even before the roosters rise and a whistling milkman arrives with float laden with dairy produce. My extensive research has unearthed... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, in 'celebration' of reaching the third anniversary since suffering a heart attack, I relayed the first narrative written from my hospital bed post-cardio scare. With my gratitude to the skilled LGI cardiologist and his team still at the very forefront of my mind, today I enclose the words I penned following the heart procedure... Continue Reading →
Today marks the third anniversary of yours truly suffering a heart attack. Yes, a trinity of summers have now elapsed since GJ Strachan stood face to face with the Grim Reaper - An adversary who I mercifully dodged; allowing this capricious northern Englishman to live to write another day. Below is the first blog I... Continue Reading →
Yesterday afternoon I cooked a homemade vegetable soup - A consommé so bland it led me to question the validity of the old adage 'Too many cooks spoil the broth'. Yours truly concluding the culinary combo's flavour to be so meagre that assistance from additional chefs couldn't possibly have spoilt it anymore. To my mind... Continue Reading →
Although ordinarily a fella who's sceptical one's serendipity can take a turn for the preponderant when a calendar year expires, I've convinced myself 2022 will be an altogether more fragrant mistress than its rancid predecessor. 2021 bidding me a welcome adieu last Saturday morning when handing the almanac baton to what I hope will be... Continue Reading →
This, my 2514th narrative, will be the last blog I write for a while. My motivation to write these 500+ word daily essays has diminished of late and, perhaps metaphorically, Thursday's post relating to my mother's funeral seems a fitting juncture at which to draw a line under this particular literary odyssey - Well, for... Continue Reading →