Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Easter Saturday has bequeathed West Yorkshire's populace warm(ish) Bank Holiday temperatures. Consequently, yours truly intends to venture out later to take in a local league cricket match. A game which, although not partaking for over a decade, I played for 30 years from my mid-teens. Cricket a game of which I've written about on numerous... Continue Reading →
In recent times notions relating to my late father have been amongst the numerous visitors to my mercurial mind. My cerebrum in receipt of thoughts relating to the old fella who four years ago passed away, depriving my brood of his inherent warmth, kindness, wisdom and love of family. Amongst memories appertaining to the patriarch... Continue Reading →
Akin to many individuals, it's fair to say my fledgling years were awash with scores of useful life lessons. Procurement of knowledge such as, after failing to impress peers with the admittedly tepid trick, learning my double-jointed ring finger was unlikely to jettison me onto a meaningful and fulfilling career path. Another snippet of wisdom... Continue Reading →
Collated as tributes to my mum who passed twelve days ago, over the previous few days my daily blogs've been an amalgam of essays written about unreliable memories relating to the matriarch. As highlighted in a prologue to those pieces, these are partly fictional tales based on fact, were the names of the innocent were... Continue Reading →
This morning, while prepping questions for tomorrows Zoom quiz with the chaps, I've been researching old 1970 TV commercials online. From this trawl down memory lane, I've just productively completed penning ten 'true or false' inquiries. Vigour further inflated by evocations of fond childhood recollections flooding the old cranium during my random delving. Ad tag... Continue Reading →
Today's chronicle is the first I've had the opportunity to pen for three days. Far more important existential events have required my attention in the previous 72 hours than sitting self-indulgently crafting prose. Anyhow, yours truly is back with quill and parchment, more as a mental health efficacy than any enthusiasm to wax lyrical. At... Continue Reading →
It’s 16th December and the festive feel in chez Strachan is slowly intensifying. And, to be honest, how can GJ Strachan not be flushed with yuletide esprit when greeted by the word ‘Bollocks’ from behind window 16 of a Tourettes advent calendar bequeathed by son Jonny? Augmenting yuletide spirit further, the unmistakable redolence of spilled... Continue Reading →
Solar rays envelope large swathes of West Yorkshire as I write. The meteorological god Zeus finally turning off the celestial precipitation tap*** allowing me to finally get into the garden to undertake much needed maintenance. Not my own garden back in LS15, but the lawns and borders of my mother's WF3 home. *** - I... Continue Reading →
During the half century I've resided on this dysfunctional planet I've been confronted by numerous intriguing life questions. Among them an irritational compulsion to unearth what the Q stood for in the name of my childhood optician JQ Summers. The affable Scotsman who practised his ophthalmic trade in a shop opposite the Cannon pub on... Continue Reading →