Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Like a latter day Little Orphan Annie, yesterdays weather forecaster prediction of "The sun'll come out tomorrow." has borne fruit. Consequently, on disembarking from my pit this morning, following successful navigation of the clothing and scatter cushion trip hazards, it was gratifying to open the curtains to feel solar rays caress my hirsute visage. The... Continue Reading →
Solar rays and The Beatles Greatest Hits (1967-1970) album are my dining room companions this Friday evening. This pleasing visual and aural backdrop a perfect accompaniment to my glass of Pinot Grigio; my beverage of choice while gawping at freshly cut back lawns and newly regenerating spring time flora and fauna...... Seemingly, in these COVID-19 quarantined... Continue Reading →
As I plough on with these diaries chronicling life under the epee de Damocles, hovering menacingly over the globe in the shape of COVID-19, my mum's sitting opposite deriding an auctioneer on TV show Bargain Hunt. A dour looking fellow who she opines should display a chirpier persona, especially as "He's on the bleeding telly!"... Continue Reading →
I'm beginning to wander if this frequent hand washing malarky, a necessity in this stark COVID-19 era, is starting to erode away my fingerprints. I raise the topic as within the past week I've observed my devices with fingerprint recognition technology seem only to sporadically respond to my dab. My paranoia manifesting notions the access interruption... Continue Reading →
Day ten of isolation amongst the hallowed halls and chambers of chez Strachan. I understand that description is rather grand for a three bedroomed detached house on the Leeds/Wakefield borders. However, the poet within me was loathed to embark upon today's prose with a deeply unimaginative sentence, such as 'Day ten of being stuck in... Continue Reading →
I like to think I'm a reasonably pragmatic fellow who, where possible, seeks rational solutions when confronted with existential antagonists. Not all of my notions are successful, such as the occasion, while bereft of colander, I misguidedly used a tennis racquet to sieve spaghetti. A foolish culinary strategy in many ways, however, as Bulgarian philosopher... Continue Reading →
This morning, during an aimless meander through the oft idiotic observations which 'grace' the annals (or should that be anals?) of Twitter, I stumbled upon a thought-provoking YouTube submission. This compelling listen the words of an A&E doctor during a rare break from his hectic workload at a London hospital. During a telephone conversation with... Continue Reading →
In the face of national lockdown, members of the Italian populace are congregating from the safety of their own residential balconies, to partake in impromptu sing-a-longs. These contemporary operatic pastiches designed to raise the flagging spirits of those enduring enforced hermitism. Scenes showing, akin to many 19th century opera storylines written by their compatriots Giuseppe... Continue Reading →
Mercifully, I survived Friday 13th without any discernible misfortune. In fact I'd proffer with some contentment that, except from slightly overcooking the oven chips and a rare bout of writers block, GJ Strachan's Friday 13th March was, in the inimitable words of Bertie Wooster, tinkety tonk. If truth be told, my exposure to paraskevidekatriaphobic tales... Continue Reading →