Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
It was around 2pm on an overcast West Yorkshire Saturday afternoon. In a barbers shop seat a middle aged northern Englishman, who'd not had a haircut for sixteen weeks, sits in anticipation at the imminent removal of his unkempt lockdown locks. This man's mood conflicted. On one hand he has grown tired of his unmanageable locks,... Continue Reading →
Last week I wrote a narrative (Barbershop Strop) during which I spoke of childhood visits to James Thow's barbershop on Low Fell, Gateshead. During which I broached the topic of my mum's obsession with her offspring's locks being well kempt; more specifically an insistence it didn't lay longer than collar length. My prose about 1970's sojourns... Continue Reading →
Friday 6th April (Part Two) - I've arrived in Newcastle. With two hours to kill before I meet my brother Ian, I'm yet again Starbucks in situ, Americano with milk nestling in front of me. Opposite from the café is the imposing stone building which, amongst other functions, is the entrance to Newcastle Central train... Continue Reading →
In the past couple of days I've found it difficult to find a sustained period of time to sit down and write. My busier than usual schedule the consequence of assisting other family members in the care of my dad, who has had a bad few days on his enduring recuperation from the major surgery he underwent in June. Although there has... Continue Reading →