Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
This morning, as I tentatively peeled back door 10 of a homemade advent calendar gifted by my partner Sarah, yours truly was greeted by the word ‘Bollocks’. Her mischievous cardboard festive trinket bearing 24 curse words, each carefully chosen from my beau’s vast swearing vocabulary. These off-colour greetings hidden behind numbered doors haphazardly carved on... Continue Reading →
Yuletide preparations continue apace in chez Strachan. With nineteen more sleeps until St Nick breaks into my apartment with an immunity afforded from his benevolence, my pre-yuletide plans are well placed. Gifts are purchased, and arrangements to distribute the presents have been made. Additionally, a kind invite from friends to celebrate Christmas Day with them mean I’m... Continue Reading →
I’ve not written much of late. For no apparent reason my mood has been low; draining any motivation to indulge in literary projects. Perversely, annoyance at myself for being in a low spirits for no reason has sent my mood even lower. It has got so bad, yesterday evening GJ Strachan had a word with... Continue Reading →
A phalanx of baristas and customers seeking a caffeine hit surround me as I commence this missive. A south Leeds retail centre’s café affording me a domain to place my buttocks, rehydrate and stir whatever creative juice pool I can muster. After tweaking my back yesterday afternoon, this journaling accompanied by intermittent lumbar spasms. Stretching... Continue Reading →
“If only I don't bend and break, I'll meet you on the other side, I'll meet you in the light. If only I don't suffocate, I'll meet you in the morning when you wake.” Thoughts and emotions I heard relayed last Friday evening. To clarify the above wasn’t delivered as a morbid goodnight message from my partner, Sarah. An audio... Continue Reading →
I am a man of simple tastes. Give me sight of a beguiling smile, visions of a ‘Six bottles of wine for the price of Five’ sale sign, or the sound of a woman saying, “Ok, Gary, I’ll rescind my restraining order application!” and I’m in clover. For most of my adult life I barely procured... Continue Reading →
Yesterday witnessed the birthday of one GJ Strachan from Wakefield parish. A low-key day celebration wise seeing the hirsute mischief maker attend an online writing group, embark on a shopping centre visit, along with an afternoon at the park with his beau, her grandson and dog. My evening at home was quiet, watching YouTube clips... 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 →
Yesterday evening, a bohemian vegetarian café in Harrogate saw my inaugural attempt at reading my prose in an open mic night. This literary virginity lost when orating a 1000-word narrative parodying my wedding ceremony, in 1988. As I have shared some of the unreliable memories beforehand via blog, not a 100% new monologue. However, following... Continue Reading →