Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
It’s been around twelve months now since I commence partaking in the campervan life. Since popping my camping cherry, witnessing the equipment and accessories available to us individuals embracing life in the great outdoors has truly amazed me. Saying that, though, I am yet to find a photocopying machine or paper shredder specifically designed for... Continue Reading →
After last night’s pleasant evening with my beau Sarah’s family at a Batley restaurant, this afternoon I’ll be Scarborough bound, once again taking up domicile at the site where my campervan currently resides. Footnote – Before proceeding, please take time to absorb the prose in paragraph one… After all, it will be one of the... Continue Reading →
Sitting in the bosom of an east Yorkshire campsite, the chirp of birds (of an unknown species) accompanies this prose litteraire. When I say the birds are of an unknown species, I’m referring to the fact GJ Strachan isn’t party to the specific avian breed. Not that I have stumbled across a ne’er before identified... Continue Reading →
Spending time living in the great outdoors, your back hair being blown evocatively by a summer zephyr, can be wonderful fun… Unless, of course, you don’t have back hair. In which case my heart goes out to you for missing out on such brio. With the above in mind, my owning of a campervan, along... Continue Reading →
In my last blog I wrote of a campervan breakfast of singed crumpets and coffee at a scenic campsite on Scarborough’s periphery. The bakery fare smeared with my ‘go to’ toast topping of Marmite; a vegemite wonder which, along with a strong coffee, often jumpstart GJ Strachan’s dormant morning tastebuds. While eating the petit dejeuner... Continue Reading →
Mid-summer 1971 - Recently enveloped by imposing thunder clouds, the West Yorkshire skies darkened as a babe in arms, later to be known as ‘The Rebellious One’, makes her inaugural appearance on this dysfunctional planet. The arrival not a virgin birth, or consequently marked by a reverential visit by three wise men. Not too big... Continue Reading →
Last week’s Portuguese vacation with my partner Sarah has meant it has been a barren time literary wise of late. Sure, I could have still waxed lyric on the Iberian Peninsula. However, instead I chose to indulge on a relaxing seven-day smorgasbord of sun, sand, sangria, silliness, and Sarah. An alliteration brew warming both my... Continue Reading →
Although penning this piece from the bedroom of a Portuguese hotel, I am more than aware back in Blighty my fellow Brits are celebrating Father's Day. One of the many reminders of the celebration coming in the shape of cards from my children, granddaughter and Zella the dog which take pride of place on my... Continue Reading →
Last weekend saw my inaugural visit to a music festival. It has only took six decades but the wait was well worth it, even the ninety minutes it took to get from the venue entrance to my camper van pitch. If there is a sun god, he also had tickets to the musical clambake. His... Continue Reading →