Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
7am this morning, my beagle Bella and me exited the metallic gate of our home, embarking on a short ten minute stroll to the local park. A sojourn which takes us past around ten residences before turning right onto a 200 metre dirt track road and across the main road adjacent to the treelined parkland.... Continue Reading →
Scene - The morning of 25th December 2025. In the living room of a terraced mid-20th century built home, on the sofa/chaise, a middle-aged couple prepare to exchange yuletide gifts. Beneath the high ceiling typically witnessed in residences of this era, the male of the duo (Gary) catches sight of a huge wrapped present bearing... Continue Reading →
Last week we in the UK, along with several northern hemisphere countries, were ‘lucky’ enough to witness a partial solar eclipse. Northern Spain, Northern Russia, Greenland and Iceland even ‘luckier’ when becoming party to a full sun blockage. Bereft of special filtered sunglasses, making it safe to look directly at this infrequent astronomical event, I... Continue Reading →
It could have been a scene played out on the Serengeti plains. A predator stealthily utilising its ecosystem’s arid grasses and flora to mask their slow and steady approach toward unsuspecting prey. Becoming aware of its quarry around 20 metres away, the predator swiftly determining a strategy of attack. There was no swiftness in the... Continue Reading →
“Don't leave me this way. I can’t survive, can’t stay alive, without your love. Don’t leave me this way.” Those sentiments from an opening chorus of a Communards refrain are often communicated by my beagle Bella’s sad sideways glances when about to be left home alone. Yours truly's parting assurances of “I’ll not be long!”... Continue Reading →
Scene - At the park’s periphery, a middle-aged man and his dog engage on a frenetic walk. The pair circumnavigate tree trunks with the nimbleness of a Lionel Messi dribble, a waltzing skillset of Anton du Beke, along with the collision avoidance wherewithal of fighter pilot Brad Bootavich. Cause of this improvised dance routine was... Continue Reading →
“Turned Out Arid Again, Mother!” by Gary Strachan Today started like every day, with the walk. A dishevelled man with three score years of broken dreams emerged from a bedraggled duvet. Standing up he adjusted his boxer shorts which feel like they’ve been screwed on by a spanner. Stretching melodramatically, he adds to the... Continue Reading →
I’ve an unerring urge to use the word expedient within today’s narrative. My motive not to rage bait the Never Use Expedient In Prose Association (NUEPA), although to be honest, if that had been the reason, those stuffy bastards have had it coming for a while! My decision to utilise the noun (or adjective depending... Continue Reading →
Today sees another small step in my ongoing penmanship rehab. A further attempt to reinvigorate a passion for writing which has largely forsaken me since last December. A devotion waning in December 2025, after succumbed to a wave of self-doubt about my art; consequently becoming overwhelmed by lethargy and low-spirits. A malaise I’ve now resolved... Continue Reading →