Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Yesterday, my other half returned to West Yorkshire after a three-night visit to her parents in Birtley, County Durham. As part of her home town's legislation, any of the townsfolk that leave the inside of it's metaphorical walls have to return every three months for stone cladding refresher courses. An edict my missus was about to breach...... Failure to adhere to this dictum results... Continue Reading →
I didn't get a chance to pen a narrative yesterday. Instead of literary escape, my priorities a meeting to glean details of voluntary charity work I'll shortly be undertaking, a sojourn with my mum for her weekly shop, along with increasing the festive aesthetics of mater's Wakefield domicile. If you're wondering what the heck 'increasing the festive aesthetics... Continue Reading →
This morning, it was heart-warming to wake to a yuletide ambience in my modest three bedroomed West Yorkshire domicile. The consequence of a decorated Christmas tree, along with the lighting of cinnamon scented candles. To enhance the festive feeling, through the bay window, a squirrel has just jogged along my lower patio; prior to hopping over the fence into neighbour Mike's... Continue Reading →
December's here. The wait is finally over for me to find out which word of profanity is behind the first door on my Gordon Ramsey advent calendar. Amongst today's itinerary I intend to scour the Radio Times to plan my festive viewing, while I listen to timeless Christmas tunes on an Apple Music playlist. This day will also no doubt witness my perennial yule-time pondering at... Continue Reading →
For the first time in twenty eight years, Christmas Day in the Strachan home will be bereft of voices other than mine and that of my spouse, Karen. This situation not a consequence of a planned 24-hour sponsored family yuletide silence; an event which the missus and me had stubbornly refuse to participate in. Moreover, the fact that neither of our... Continue Reading →
It’s 2.13pm on the 22nd December. An elderly chap is playing ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ with enthusiasm on a grand piano in the foyer of St James’ Bexley Oncology Institute. He played with gusto earlier, but he isn't now as his Swedish pal has just gone for a coffee. Looking at him, I'd guess the old guy has... Continue Reading →
Bereft of a topic for today's narrative, I cast my gaze over towards the gogglebox in the opposite corner of the room. On screen Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and the other blonde lass whose name currently escapes me, heartily warble the song ‘White Christmas’, while festively adorning in red Santa garments. Evoking memories of Christmas’ past, Bing... Continue Reading →
While opening door number 14 on the Strachan advent calendar this morning, something suddenly struck me....... The bloody holly wreath above the fireplace landed on my head! Thankfully it's predominantly plastic so the damage was minimal...... Incidentally, that's the bells on the wreath not my head! I took a valuable lesson from this minor incident. That being a blob of Blu... Continue Reading →
Yesterday I wrote of a trip to the north east of England twelve months ago; an evocation courtesy of our social media overlord Facebook, via their ‘On This Day’ application. Over the last few years Mark Zuckerburg’s baby has provided me with the opportunity to exhibit jokes and life scenarios of varying humour levels, providing... Continue Reading →