Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
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 →
This morning, upon opening advent calendar door number fifteen, I was greeted by the 'Souls of the Oppressed'. Although affable enough spirits, particularly when you take into account the terrible suffering they've endured, I'm beginning to hold misgivings about investing in Torture magazine's festive calendar***. Todays's bestowal as disturbing as the 'Fingernails of No Return' which... Continue Reading →
The inspiration being sought for today's narrative topic wasn't behind door number 14 on the advent calendar. Well, that's unless I decide to pen a yarn about a red-nosed reindeer indulging in a game of table tennis - A subject path of which I've little inclination of embarking on. Consequently, I'm presently residing in my dining... Continue Reading →
At reveille this morning I lay in bed mulling over what the upcoming festive season on Planet COVID would bequeath. Amongst these notions, GJ Strachan attempted to recall how Christmas advents played out prior to my 2019 health issues, marriage split and the coronavirus pandemic. This act of recollection causing me to look back as... Continue Reading →
With Christmas Day hurtling towards us with the speed of a linen basket dashing from a pair of the Grinch's underpants, I'm concerned to be still awaiting delivery of a few festive gifts purchased in the middle of November...... In hindsight, perhaps it was misguided to order my daughter Rachel a pet sloth family as... Continue Reading →
Following yesterday's efforts by her attention-seeking elder son, Mrs Strachan senior's Christmas tree now stands imposingly in the front room bay window of her West Yorkshire abode. The artificial evergreen bringing a much needed hint of festive cheer and chromatic hue to the octogenarian's lounge. Reading my previous sentence, some may suggest after penning artificial there's... Continue Reading →
The silence I was enjoying when commencing these observations has just been defiled by an intermittent thudding sound emanating from the direction of Colton Retail Park. The nearest description I can muster for this soundscape is the noise resembles malcontents endeavouring to gain access to a defending castle by battering ram. Quite clearly, I've never... Continue Reading →
After a minor inconvenience or two yesterday afternoon, the 2020 Christmas tree stands proudly in the Strachan lounge. Although, staring in it's direction from this angle I've just noticed the star atop the Scandinavian Fir is tilting slightly to the right. Excuse me a moment, I've got to remedy that or my OCD will wreak... Continue Reading →
I'm back on housesitting duty at my marital home today. My estranged wife's return to her County Durham childhood home, caring for her ailing father, affording me a further few weeks of residency in my former abode of twenty three years. As I'm going to be residing in the aforementioned east Leeds abode during the... Continue Reading →