Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
More by chance than any Poirotesque slouthery on my part the mystery of chez Strachan's missing toothpaste tube has been solved. The location of this gel receptacle, which disappeared moments after its arrival within these hallowed walls on Thursday, has baffled this house's finest minds for the last forty eight hours. That being said, classing... Continue Reading →
I'm penning this chronicle at a White Rose Shopping Centre (WRSC) coffee house, taking advantage of three hours respite from caring for my mum. My sojourn partly born from knowledge if I remain within chez Strachan's hallowed walls when afforded this break, I'll still end up making cuppas and lunches for my mum, Maggie...... Not... Continue Reading →
During a routine tidy of a little used storage area within chez Strachan, I stumbled upon on old car first aid kit of my fathers. One look at this ageing collection of bandages, plasters, lints, micropore tape et al, revealing the old man'd procured this medical mishmash a good few years back. In fact, upon... Continue Reading →
The strain of being a full-time carer to my mother hit me yesterday evening, when I'd an unacceptable meltdown when my plans to watch the live rugby league game were derailed. Aspirations of unwinding in front of the Leeds Rhinos v Wigan Warriors game departing down the same avenue where Lord Lucan disappeared. The source... Continue Reading →
The thin gruel provided from living a COVID lifestyle wears particularly heavy today. A mood that's diminished further from just witnessing England cricketer Jonny Bairstow losing his wicket in India. My fellow Yorkshireman holing out in the deep while six runs short of what would've been an accomplished century. Although, on a positive note, as... Continue Reading →
As decreed by god and the Wakefield Curtain Twitchers Society, I've just completed the UK census, relaying my mum's property occupancy details. Among the queries answered were residents academic qualifications, their employment history and whether we think TV's Simon Cowell is a t**t..... For confidentiality reasons, I'm unable to disclose my answers to these inquiries;... Continue Reading →
With my wife Karen currently spending time in County Durham caring for her recently widowed dad, I'll be home alone this week. A time I aim to spend constructively by waxing lyrical, scratching around and nattering over Emu's fate since Rod Hull's untimely demise. My wife's home town Birtley located just south of the Angel... Continue Reading →
Yesterday lunchtime I undertook three hours collecting for MacMillan Cancer Support, at the Marks & Spencer (M&S) store in Briggate, Leeds. Although, I'd done numerous bits of voluntary work for various cancer charities over the past few years, it's the first time recently I've ventured down this philanthropic route. My absence from this undertaking the... 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 →