Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
The first known batch of Scotch whisky was recorded on this day in 1495, which accredits the first distillation to a Tironensian monk named John Cor. The man of pray a servant in King James IV court, when his majesty resided at Lindores Abbey, Fife. I’d like to think he stumbled over the drink after being given an objective by James IV to:- “Create... Continue Reading →
Throwback Thursday - Two years ago today I penned this yarn of food temperature, Shakespeare parody and litigation...... They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. Well if that’s the case, it's a shame I didn't have revenge for tea, as being cold didn't do anything for the lasagne I’ve just consumed. My... Continue Reading →
I’m contemplating ridding myself of facial hair. It's started to itch like hell and my wife recently liken me to Catweazle’s scruffier brother; and that was before I’d even grown this full beard. I personally see my increased facial hirsuteness as the unconventional move taken by lots of creative individuals. A strategy displaying to your peers... Continue Reading →
Throwback to this time last year and a trip north to the cricket Test Match...... This is my first blog for a few days as I’ve been away in the north east of England. To clarify, it’s not the case you’re not allowed to write blogs in the area; so I'd hang fire with any plans to send... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, Huddersfield Town were promoted back to the top tier of English football for the first time in over 40 years. Despite being a fan of their West Yorkshire rivals Leeds United, I have to applaud David Wagner and his side for their unlikely achievement. Many Leeds fans won't share my sentiments of congratulation, but I'd like to give credit... Continue Reading →
The denizens of West Yorkshire have today emerged from their Bank Holiday lie in to leaden skies. An aesthetically displeasing weather state, diminished further by a now familiar accompanying breeze. Rarely a day goes by, regardless of season, where there isn’t a gust of some magnitude rustling the pyracantha or damaging the frail stems of the aquilegia. Some... Continue Reading →
In The Beatles song 'The Ballad of John & Yoko', John Lennon penned the words "Peter Brown called to say you can make it ok. You can get married in Gibraltar near Spain." I thought of this lyric on Friday when someone also named Peter Brown called me on my landline. Unlike the late Liverpudlian, though, his motives weren't to plan my itinerary;... Continue Reading →
It’s the English FA Cup final today. Due to my indifference about the contemporary game of football, with it’s over-indulged top professionals and endless pimping by Sky Sports, I’ll be giving today’s Chelsea v Arsenal game a wide berth. My viewpoint now the polar opposite of what I opined in childhood, when FA Cup day... Continue Reading →
I lack the enthusiasm to write this morning. Although very much welcome, the raising of temperatures in West Yorkshire have exacerbated my current sleep deprivation, sapping my energy. Sitting here in my unlucky shorts (my lucky ones are in the wash after I got run over by a taxi in them yesterday), and t-shirt my... Continue Reading →