Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
It was around 2pm on an overcast West Yorkshire Saturday afternoon. In a barbers shop seat a middle aged northern Englishman, who'd not had a haircut for sixteen weeks, sits in anticipation at the imminent removal of his unkempt lockdown locks. This man's mood conflicted. On one hand he has grown tired of his unmanageable locks,... Continue Reading →
Last week I wrote a narrative (Barbershop Strop) during which I spoke of childhood visits to James Thow's barbershop on Low Fell, Gateshead. During which I broached the topic of my mum's obsession with her offspring's locks being well kempt; more specifically an insistence it didn't lay longer than collar length. My prose about 1970's sojourns... Continue Reading →
Friday 6th April (Part Two) - I've arrived in Newcastle. With two hours to kill before I meet my brother Ian, I'm yet again Starbucks in situ, Americano with milk nestling in front of me. Opposite from the café is the imposing stone building which, amongst other functions, is the entrance to Newcastle Central train... Continue Reading →
The low winter sun and icy conditions necessitated a cautious drive to East Ardsley this morning. Regardless of the copious amounts of grit on main roads and highways, with temperatures outside hovering around zero centigrade, heedfulness was the watchword. Yours truly's venture 10 miles south-west was to taxi the old lady to her long-suffering hairdresser. An unfortunate crimper who has the unenviable task of styling mater's... Continue Reading →
As a young lad I was a great deal more inquisitive than I've been in adulthood. Free from the distractions of paying a mortgage, working shifts and providing for a family of four, my boyhood inquiring mind was given carte blanche to roam, retrieve and expand. For example, when my parents first moved us from... Continue Reading →