“I felt like I’d been dragged five miles along cobbled stones by a shire horse named Gloria, who, upon arriving at Wakefield cathedral’s vast wooden doors, sat on my chest as it shared a Costa latte and a natter with her equine buddy Maisy.” This inaugural paragraph of this narrative my response to a friend…
Category: Blogs
Daily Blogs
Tales From A Majorcan Poolside
This pièce littéraire is brought to you at a second attempt – Following a network issue at the Majorcan hotel I resided last week, my inaugural attempt wasn’t saved to my editing app. An episode which didn’t spring to light until I attempted to retrieve the six hundred words I’d painstakingly written on a tablet….
“Our Father Who Art In….”
Tomorrow Father’s Day makes a perennial June tarry to the UK; a twenty four hour residency which introduces mixed emotions for GJ Strachan. On one hand, esprit consequential of ordinarily having opportunity to meet up with one or both my offspring. However, at the other end of the emotional spectrum, melancholy borne from no longer…
Recommendations Please
Yesterday, while scouring Facebook timeline announcements like a ferret seeking an errant contact lens, a mischievous notion manifested from deep within my capricious mind. Concluding this epiphany, although admittedly silly, was a harmless enough conception to include these observations within this prose. As is my want when scribing these journals, or posting online, I constantly…
An Amble On The Ambleside
After a few days hiatus from quilling these (almost) daily observations, GJ Strachan returns to his laptop keyboard feeling reinvigorated, brio filled and refreshed. That being said, the amount I’ve drank over the weekend, I should be bloody refreshed! Incidentally, that is definitely supposed to read brio instead of brie, above. Yours truly feeling moved…
Wine, Winning & Song
As a stickler for adhering to old wife’s advocacies, GJ Strachan faced an (admittedly small) conundrum yesterday afternoon. This infinitesimal poser manifesting during discussions with a friend about 1970’s UK punk band The Sex Pistols. The episode playing out when I was questioned about the title of their only studio recorded album. Although acutely aware…
MOT…. We’re Gonna See You Skint!
Consequential of my car undergoing an annual MOT test, GJ Strachan is scribing today’s literary offering on the road. As writing while highway in situ or driving a vehicle with laptop on knee is wantonly reckless, it goes without saying my penning ‘on the road’ revelation shouldn’t be taken literally. I’m, of course, inferring these…
Geordie Canine Chatter
Spending so much time on my own of late has been a catalyst to me occasionally indulging in absurd faux conversations with my dog companions Deano and Zella. These sporadic episodes ordinarily playing out as I stroll past the little scamps while wandering chez Strachan’s soon to be sold chambers and gardens. My pretend conversations…
Kicking The Can Down The Street
Liking a challenge, and in the absence of inspirational alternatives, today I’ve set myself a task of penning prose (minimum 500 words) about the pile of ironing I’m repeatedly strolling past while going about my daily chores. No, don’t go!….. Come back!!…… It might not seem a subject which’ll warm the cockles of your heart,…