Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
With my wife Karen currently spending time in County Durham caring for her recently widowed dad, I'll be home alone this week. A time I aim to spend constructively by waxing lyrical, scratching around and nattering over Emu's fate since Rod Hull's untimely demise. My wife's home town Birtley located just south of the Angel... Continue Reading →
Late this afternoon I'll be confronted by a conundrum which afflicts us armchair sports fans once or twice a season. Not a problem of earth shattering proportions by any stretch of the imagination, nevertheless a decision still requiring careful consideration. This trivial poser the three football/rugby teams I follow being broadcast live on TV almost... Continue Reading →
During a post-lunch walk around the estate in which casa Strachan resides I bumped into an old acquaintance. Aware of my recent cardio issues, during our brief chat, he magnanimously offered his good wishes for a speedy and full recovery. During the conversation they enquired what the experience of undergoing a heart attack felt like.... Continue Reading →
Due to recent life events, I'm currently undertaking an unintended 'Dry January'. My alcohol abstinence not earning money for a charitable cause, as with those who're partaking in the official event, however at least my liver will be benefitting from this extended sobriety. To be honest, I actually could drink if so desired as long... Continue Reading →
Sitting with a bowl of wasabi peas and a mandarin, carrot and ginger smoothie, I've one eye on my laptop and the other on a Sky Atlantic show called The Trip to Spain. This a series of six half hour shows in which British entertainers/writers Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon sample cuisine at some of... Continue Reading →
As a follow up from my recent cardiac scare, I've just had an appointment with my GP at their east Leeds surgery.. At the commencement of my consultation I was alarmed to be advised by the doctor it'd be wise not to book any holidays. Concerned at this edict I responded "Why doctor is my... Continue Reading →
On Monday afternoon I took a first recuperative walk since being discharged from hospital, embarking on a short meander to the end of the street and back. Only a few hundred yards in distance and undertaken on flat terrain, it was hardly Hannibal's trek across the Himalayas; however I was heartened to witness an improvement... Continue Reading →
A foreboding grey sheet envelopes this morning's east Leeds sky. Looking out from my recuperative billet, leafless deciduous trees and a visually unappealing brick building from Colton Retail Park lugubriously return my gaze. The pallid outdoor canvas providing such dimmed natural light that, despite the clock showing 10.07 am, there's a requirement for table lamp... Continue Reading →
In search of a strategy to help me relax during post-op recuperation, I'm currently listening to the calming sounds of rainfall on YouTube. This ten hour video, shot in a park on one static camera, bequeathing to it's viewer/listener the relaxing tones of cascading precipitation. I'd like to clarify, I don't intend listening to all... Continue Reading →