Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
On Friday lunchtime I stood proudly as part of a voluntary team collecting on behalf of 2022's Marie Curie Great Daffodil Appeal. My second voluntary role of the year (I'd undertaken a similar role the previous week) a brio augmenting episode made even more worthwhile by the magnanimous patrons of Morrisons supermarket, Morley. I've not... Continue Reading →
As I begin this chronicle I’ve just returned into my mothers care home room after vacating it while nurses undertook the matriarch's personal care. While standing out in the corridor, adjacent to Maggie’s chamber, Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s emotive hymn Pie Jesu played out from a neighbouring resident’s room. The refrain’s celestial nature, incorporating prayers to a... Continue Reading →
My mum seems to've settled nicely into the care home she moved into late on Friday. Her transition from the hospital to what'll be her final residence not going as smoothly as the family would've liked, but she finally got admitted at around 7.20pm. As the Better Late Than Never Society are fond of reminding... Continue Reading →
"I spy with my little eye; something beginning with B." A challenge presented by my mum from her hospital bed to her grandson (my adult son Jonny) two evenings ago. Despite being on an end of life pathway following the discovery of multiple brain tumours, grandma using an impromptu game of 'I Spy' to display... Continue Reading →
Thursday morning witnessed an early start for yours truly - Commencing when my phone alarm proffered a dream shattering cacophony, causing me to franctically search for the device's snooze button. Initially, with hand flaling floorward, it was actually my jeans I pressed in my disorientated state of reveille. Unsurprisingly, that didn't negate the alarm's din... Continue Reading →
With the sad news of Karen's mum's critical medical condition, plans for the foreseeable future in casa Strachan are understandably in limbo. My wife still in the north east maintaining her bedside vigil, along with providing support for her distraught father. I'm in regular contact with my little missus by phone and text, where she... Continue Reading →
Yesterday afternoon, I wrote a eulogy to deliver at my father's funeral on Wednesday. As it would be highly inappropriate to do so, I'm not going to publish those words in this narrative. The reason I highlighted this activity is merely part of journaling some of my Friday activities in chez Strachan junior. I realise this is stating the obvious, but writing... Continue Reading →
I'm unable to visit my dad in the hospice with the rest of the family until this afternoon. The consequence of Karma, in her infinite wisdom, decreeing my past misdemeanours warrant a current existence of two close family members with incurable illness. I'm unsure what's caused Karma's wrath, but I'm beginning to regret stealing segments of my brother's Terrys... Continue Reading →
Since embarking on this literary voyage, I've written these tales of inanity in a multitude of establishments. Today's offering is being penned in, or just outside, my moribund dad's room in a West Yorkshire hospice. The circumambulating atmosphere a justapos of the distressing sight of witnessing a loved one's suffering in the last hours of... Continue Reading →