Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
There's an engineer due this afternoon. His mission, should he choose to accept it, to repair my mum's gas fire which has refused to ignite since last Friday. Frustratingly, I tried a variety of unsuccessful strategies to remedy the problem, including exclaiming irritable cries of "Work you useless piece of s***e!" However, this approach failed to... Continue Reading →
It's Tuesday and I'm still afflicted by the catarrh laden cough I penned about in Sunday's literary offering, Untuned Catarrh. A fact leading to my disenchantment growing ever stronger, as I'm still not able to get through the night without regularly waking myself by coughing up phlegm. Taking into account the overnight capriciousness of my middle-aged... Continue Reading →
Along with millions worldwide, I observed a two minute silence, marking one hundred and one years since guns fell silent in WWI. The anniversary of an armistice between the Allied countries and Germany - Ending a four year war which saw around 40 million military and civilian casualties. I wasn't sure which surprised me more,... Continue Reading →
Today, I've had another venture west across the Pennine Hills, my third or fourth visit to the north west in a month. This time to pick my mum Maggie up from my sister Helen's home in Macclesfield, where she'd spent a few days with her youngest offspring. A visit including mater's attendance at a performance... Continue Reading →
John Maxwell Edmonds won't be too familiar a name to most people. Despite this, some of the English classicist’s compositions will be instantly recognisable to millions around the world. In particular around this time of year, when we remember our fallen in worldwide services of remembrance. The Stroud born poet is celebrated for his moving... Continue Reading →
In the last few days I've been afflicted by a catarrh laden cold. This rare malaise seeing your's truly's frequent chesty hacks manifesting with such ferocity I wouldn't be surprised if they started from my feet. The bark then gaining momentum as it works upwards through my innards, chest, windpipe and mouth where it's emitted with... Continue Reading →
Tomorrow, my daughter Rachel leaves her childhood home in Leeds, moving into a flat with her partner in Kent. The town of Tunbridge Wells becoming her new home, in the county whose aesthetic beauty earns it the moniker of 'The Garden of England'. What amazes me is how many people seem to know she's moving... Continue Reading →
I'm back in East Ardsley, West Yorkshire, after an enjoyable few days break residing in a lodge at Heysham on the Lancashire coastline. This pleasant enough town, an Irish Sea port for ferries to the Isle of Man and Ireland, which although accessible by road not wardrobe I've been unreliable assured is twinned with Narnia. Thankfully,... Continue Reading →
There's a saying that, with its chromatic scenery, the county of Kent is 'The Garden of England'. Waking to yet another day of incessant precipitation, I've concluded there's something behind the cliche that Lancashire*** county is casa England's shower tray. *** - The county west of my home county Yorkshire, where I'm residing for a few... Continue Reading →