Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Today marks the 104th anniversary of RMS Titanic sinking in the North Atlantic. It took just two hours and forty minutes for the much vaunted passenger liner to submerge after hitting an iceberg; leaving only 710 survivors out of 2,227 passengers and crew on board. Since the disaster, the story of the White Star Line’s... Continue Reading →
Karen returns from a few days break to see her parents today. I had the option of visiting her mum and dad in the People’s Republic of Birtley (PRB) or treating the fences and trellis work in my back garden...... It didn’t take me long before I headed down to Homebase for the wood treatment.... Continue Reading →
We had an early reveille this morning, as consequence of my wife Karen's appointment at a health centre in Leeds. Despite the unforgiving chill of the Spring breeze, it was heartening to see the sun shine with an enthusiasm not seen of late. Sitting in the waiting room, I looked out from a lofted view... Continue Reading →
It’s April Fools Day! As a result we'll have a day littered with inane pranks, silly stories and tiresome practical jokes...... In other words, it’s business as normal dans maison de Strachan. I find some practical jokes quite funny, such as filling hollow Easter eggs with toothpaste. I’m unable to play that one this year... Continue Reading →
In the absence of a desk, I generally write my monologues sitting at the table in the dining area of maison de Strachan. During times of inspiration, I sit enthusiastically typing at speed before I lose my thread. This is interspersed with periods I'm bereft of ideas, when I'll of gawp out the bay window onto... Continue Reading →
Recently an acquaintance relayed an assumption they'd formed about relationships, in particular those where one party suffered from terminal illness. They opined, that under those circumstances the partnership would be one of unrelenting cordiality. After all your relationship together is on borrowed time; how could you possibly argue anymore? Their presumption being, despite the patient and... Continue Reading →
In the 1970’s BBC sitcom The Fall & Rise of Reginald Perrin, his workplace quack Doc Morrissey would frequently confess to his patients he hadn’t a clue what was wrong with them, before prescribing aspirin and an assurance of its curing qualities. It seems to me this incompetent general practitioner’s quackery has a far more... Continue Reading →
It’s been a fruitful two days dans le jardin de la maison Strachan. Not only have I mowed both lawns, undertaken border work, jet blasted a patio and commenced staining the fencing, I also acquired the French translation of 'in the garden at the Strachan home’. Each task was undertaken with Verve and Gusto. Well,... Continue Reading →
Due to telephony issues, it has been a dramatic few days at Chez Strachan Senior. In fact it has become such a soap opera I've written a theme tune, which I'm hoping will become a hit when I've done writing the lyrics for Anita Dobson to release at Christmas. My dad Malcolm is intermittently unable... Continue Reading →