This is a fictional short story written for college. As you may have guessed this had to be on the subject of a window cleaners secret ......... When I was asked to write a short story on this topic the first thing it brought to mind a film from the 1970’s called ‘Confessions of a... Continue Reading →

This is a fictional short narrative written in the first person about a writer from Hobbs, New Mexico who has been tasked with writing about the towns rodeo history ..................... Francis Albert Sinatra once sang that Chicago was his kind of town. I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this as it’s not really... Continue Reading →

Everyday these days seems to be a day of celebration or acknowledgement of someone or something! Be it Grandparents Day, Auntie Maureen Day, My Shoes Are On Fire Day to name a few……. Ok I admit it I made the last two up utilising a modicum of artistic licence in an attempt to strengthen my... Continue Reading →

There was good news today for anyone who lives in a house that is built of predominantly glass when scientists revealed that there was actually no real reason why they cannot throw stones. “We have undertaken extensive research and discovered that as long they throw them away from their houses, people have spent years showing... Continue Reading →

Having a great time in Fuerteventura and the hotel is top notch. The holiday didn’t start too well though as, due to the heavy overhead cloud, the very barren landscape on the way to Corralejo and some of the hairy arsed inhabitants on the bus, I felt as though I was in a remake of... Continue Reading →

It’s been a quiet news day in Chez Strachan. We, along with the rest of the UK, lost an hour due to the overnight change from Greenwich Mean Time to British Summer Time. This shortening of the weekend has met with mixed reactions amongst friends and acquaintances! A friend with Narcolepsy said he wasn’t going... Continue Reading →

“Eric, your tea is ready!” shouted the voice at the kitchen door through badly fitted false teeth. The voice calling was Elsie, Eric's gran. She was calling her day dreaming grandson to come in for her latest culinary delight. Her ill fitting teeth meant that she whistled through them like a boiling kettle much to... Continue Reading →