Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
This morning, in preparation for the arrival of a garbage skip later this week I've undertaken the stress busting task of smashing up a single bed with a lump hammer. Like pounding a punch bag, which I undertook during circuit sessions when pre-COVID gym visits were allowed, it's a chore bequeathing an immeasurable lightening of... Continue Reading →
Endeavouring to negate my mum's garage looking like Harold Steptoe's rag and bone yard, this morning I booked a local council skip delivery. Consequently, in the not too distant future, Gascoigne J Strachan III will declutter the abundance of currently unused bric-a-brac residing in mater's car shelter. Footnote - Incidentally, my name isn't really Gascoigne... Continue Reading →