Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
I wrote recently of my scepticism surrounding old wives tales. A mini diatribe not backed on any scientific fact, moreover sneering conclusions born from my ingrained middle-age cynicism. During that narrative, I carelessly omitted to touch on the comedic value of these superstitious folk tales, especially when misquoted. I'm alluding to mixed metaphors and idioms, which are inherently funny when delivered incorrectly. I have... 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 →
As well as feeding off the therapeutic qualities of offloading my epiphanies, I try use these daily narratives as a diary. A literary journal of this current existential rollercoaster ride; an unwanted journey that I sometimes wish I'd failed the height restriction meaning I'd have been stopped from climbing aboard. To be clear, I don't expect never to have things go wrong... Continue Reading →
This afternoon I had my inaugural visit to a hospice, when I dropping in on a close family member. Obviously, like anyone of sound mind, these end of life care facilities aren't residences I've ever had the remotest desire to visit; either as a patient or visitor. It is taken as read that these establishments will exude calm for it's stricken patients... Continue Reading →
Scene – It’s just gone 8 pm on a Friday evening in the Burmantofts area of Leeds. The fledgling dusk is around an hour old and under lamplight outside an oncology unit and ambulance slowly approaches the entrance. Once stationary at the entrance area, an octogenarian patient is taken from the medical vehicle by portable... Continue Reading →
Pernicious canker; indiscriminate spitefulness Teases with capricious exhibitions of salubriousness Clan chief Strachan stricken Consequently, brood akin to felines on tin roof scorching Seven years canker has taunted caricature Norn man ponders if he fragmented mirror in 2010. Similar to Damocles sabre, malignancy menaces Jeering at chief’s brood from position incurable It’s presence sickens... Continue Reading →
This mornings solar rays in East Ardsley are making a concerted effort to lift my sagging spirits. As they blaze through an open French door onto my makeshift scribing desk, I can hear them attempting to cajole me into action with the words "Cheer up you miserable bleeder, worse things happen at sea!" Actually, I've just realised that... Continue Reading →
It's Saturday morning. Sitting here in the dining room of my parents house on the Wakefield/Leeds borders, I'm mulling over my itinerary for this pleasant autumnal day. As I'm easily distracted, though, I don't envisage this period of contemplation will be overly protracted. My mum has been in the kitchen updating their fridge magnets with the latest news on... Continue Reading →
With our family head's health taking a turn for the worse, Thursday was a particularly tough day for our clan's emotional state. Ensconced in one of the Leeds Teaching Hospitals all week, his condition appeared to be deteriorating as each day dawned. Without going into too much detail, pater's condition twenty four hours ago saw him almost fully dependent... Continue Reading →