Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Yesterday afternoon, yours truly received a much needed fillip when my son Jonny and fiancée Jenny arrived at chez Strachan on their trusty steed. This arrival rescuing spirits borne from being surrounded by a metaphorical circle of horse-drawn wagons, heavily laden with COVID induced melancholy. This euphoria at witnessing the couple's visit borne from knowledge... Continue Reading →
“Mrs Dragons, Stanley's spoiling our skipping game!” An oft heard piece of tittle-tattle aimed at my mum during her patrols of the Oakfield Infant School (OIS) playground in late 1970s Gateshead. Her role as dinner nanny at the Low Fell nursery exposing the Leeds lady to the regular telling of tales, in particular other pupil's... Continue Reading →
As I commence putting pen to paper, the distant sound of Adele singing the melancholic When We Were Young emanates from the opposite side of my lounge/dining room. Obviously, the source of the Tottenham-born singer's trademark lament is a radio station channel. The superstar hasn't travelled to my modest West Yorkshire abode to perform the... Continue Reading →