Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Whoever dishes out serendipity, be that god, karma, fate or astrologer Russell Grant, divine spirits have been good to me over recent days. Yesterday's gravy, adding to the glee evoked by my footballing paramours winning the championship on Saturday, finding out that marmite deodorant/body spray is actually a thing! The opinion dividing Vegemite spread now... Continue Reading →
In a move to improve my lockdown exercise regime, along with subsequent imparting of stress therapy, GJ Strachan is contemplating purchasing a heavy duty punchbag. Preferably, around six foot in height, ground based footings and of robust constitution. Blimey, while articulating the previous sentence, it felt like yours truly was penning a half-assed lonely hearts ad........ Continue Reading →
“How do I define history? ..... It's just one f***ing thing after another” A whimsical quote borrowed from Leeds writer Alan Bennett's prose in the tome History Boys. An observation which, when dusk falls on the year 2020, will perfectly describe the twelve months being consigned to a very large toxic waste bin. As this... Continue Reading →
Last night's Zoom quiz amongst the chaps passed in the company of habitual guests whimsy, competitiveness, absurdity, live music, one or two bowls of loud mouth soup and snacking on crisps. This heady amalgam providing an evening of variety entertainment enjoyed by British audiences since Victorian music hall days. Three hours, or so, affording likeminded... Continue Reading →
As my dear old mum would say, Thursday 19th June is being played out accompanied by "Weather for ducks!" Incidentally, as no doubt the Leeds lass would've prefixed the word 'weather' with the mildly cursory 'bleeding', I'm paraphrasing at this juncture. The word 'bleeding' her go to adverb in the occasions Maggie feels she's perhaps... Continue Reading →
Well, will today bring the advent of anything to upturn the apple cart of our COVID induced status quo? This morning I rose from my bed longing for any joyous news that'd illuminate spirits upon a landscape currently bearing a noir hue. "Can you add some meat onto the specificity bones of upbeat bulletin you're... Continue Reading →
The lower back trauma I wrote about in Gaining Groucho’s Gait, although significantly less uncomfortable, continues to plague me. Sporadic spasms when making sharp core movements reminding me the back injury still holds unwanted tenancy. The sprain's eviction notice evidently not yet bearing fruit. Bereft of pain while sitting, or laying in bed, occasionally the... Continue Reading →
It would've been my old man's 84th birthday today. At 9am precisely, and in no particular order, he'd have commenced a ring around of his three offspring in turn. After my siblings Ian, Helen and I had bestowed birthday wishes upon Malcolm, in his engaging Leeds accent, he'd have expressed gratitude for his presents. Our... Continue Reading →
To almost borrow from Nina Simone's hit refrain Feeling Good, 'It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new month. But the same old s***e!..... And I'm not feeling good!' May has taken over the calendar baton from April. A poisoned chalice of immense proportions, rendering the new month with an almost certain... Continue Reading →