Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
I was interested to learn it was World Naked Gardening Day last week. I’ve not undertaken any real research on the matter, but I’d venture this celebration isn’t openly embraced by this sceptred isle’s gardeners. Us ordinarily reserved Brits leaving that sort of exhibitionism to individuals from more uninhibited countries. Incidentally, when I write ‘I’ve... Continue Reading →
It was a Saturday lunchtime. Two bearded men, both scarlet of face, both baring ready smiles stand outside a Wakefield charity shop. One man adorns a red suit/hat with white fur edging: his facial hair a similar albumen coloured hue. The other fella also standing adjacent to Santa’s outdoor grotto dons a khaki Superdry branded... Continue Reading →
Sunlight sneaks through an adjacent window, kissing the upper petals of the white orchid adorning the features dusty sill. On a nearby kitchen table perches a middle-aged man, laptop afore him. Erratic of mood, he scans his immediate indoor landscape. Blue eyes darting between a full-size sculpture of a horse’s head, a three-dimensional hanging scooter... Continue Reading →
Afternoon on the last Tuesday of March 2024 – Two intrepid brothers set off in a campervan into the unknown. Forecasts of cold temperatures and unforgiving precipitation not deterring the latter-day Scott and Shackleton from embarking on their voyage north. And why would upcoming intemperate weather dent their fortitude; after all, they had a furry... Continue Reading →
In lieu of a blog, today I include my submission for a writing group I attended yesterday. The prompt for our submissions was 'flooded river':- Through my front room window, I watch water advance slowly towards the riverside bungalows neighbours and I call home. Although proceeding at a sloth-like pace it remains a a sinister... Continue Reading →
I am back in Wakefield after a two-night sabbatical aboard Victor the Volkswagen campervan. Despite their best efforts to sully our odyssey, the weather gods were unable to break our spirit. It takes more than sporadic rainstorms and diminishing temperatures to crush the verve of my partner Sarah and me. While Knaresborough campsite in situ,... Continue Reading →
In my last blog I wrote of a campervan breakfast of singed crumpets and coffee at a scenic campsite on Scarborough’s periphery. The bakery fare smeared with my ‘go to’ toast topping of Marmite; a vegemite wonder which, along with a strong coffee, often jumpstart GJ Strachan’s dormant morning tastebuds. While eating the petit dejeuner... Continue Reading →
As I commence penning these observations, I am sitting outside my campervan on the periphery of the North Yorkshire seaside haven of Scarborough. Situated within a pleasant camping park, the surrounding areas provide an aesthetically pleasing accompaniment to my literary toil. I am unsure of the specific names of the rolling tree lined hills bestowing... Continue Reading →
Last week’s Portuguese vacation with my partner Sarah has meant it has been a barren time literary wise of late. Sure, I could have still waxed lyric on the Iberian Peninsula. However, instead I chose to indulge on a relaxing seven-day smorgasbord of sun, sand, sangria, silliness, and Sarah. An alliteration brew warming both my... Continue Reading →