Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
It was an early dog walk this morning. My needy beagle/alarm clock Bella deciding a 6.40am stroll would be a splendid way to celebrate the dawning of 7th August 2026. This previous start not so much a case of the early bird catching the worm, more the early dog walker gets to pick up poop... Continue Reading →
Today started like everyday, with the walk. A dishevelled man with three score years of broken dreams emerged from a bedraggled duvet, standing up he adjusts his boxer shorts which feel like they’ve been screwed on by a spanner. Stretching melodramatically, he adds to the histrionics with an overly exaggerated yawn. The head of his... Continue Reading →
I’ve an unerring urge to use the word expedient within today’s narrative. My motive not to rage bait the Never Use Expedient In Prose Association (NUEPA), although to be honest, if that had been the reason, those stuffy bastards have had it coming for a while! My decision to utilise the noun (or adjective depending... Continue Reading →
Today sees another small step in my ongoing penmanship rehab. A further attempt to reinvigorate a passion for writing which has largely forsaken me since last December. A devotion waning in December 2025, after succumbed to a wave of self-doubt about my art; consequently becoming overwhelmed by lethargy and low-spirits. A malaise I’ve now resolved... Continue Reading →
As highlighted in my blog The Beagle With The Seagull, I recently re-homed a beagle hound. Six weeks of providing shelter, poop picking, feeding, and walking the capricious hound have taught me a valuable lesson… I should have rehomed a budgie!... Only kidding, I would not swap Bella for the world. Unless of course the... Continue Reading →
A few weeks back, some sixty-six million years after dinosaurs became extinct and slightly before yours truly commenced penning this narrative, I rehomed a dog. The hound in question a four your old beagle who, for the purposes of the narrative (and because it’s her name), I shall call Bella. With details of the rehoming... Continue Reading →
Last Thursday, endeavouring to address a recent indifference towards and break from writing, I participated in a writers 'Open Mic' evening in Harrogate. This clambake afforded eleven fellow authors and myself opportunity to showcase our literary wares. The event offering its audience a tempting mix of poetry, thought provoking and irreverent fiction, along with comedic... Continue Reading →
Every now and then when not wandering around my residence pondering why I don’t cast a reflection in mirrors, yours truly revisits narratives penned during COVID lockdown. Scores of my diarised vignettes, published on my website, providing retrospective insights into my thoughts and deeds under the pandemics grip. A time when I assume the mantle... Continue Reading →
I was interested to learn it was World Naked Gardening Day last week. I’ve not undertaken any real research on the matter, but I’d venture this celebration isn’t openly embraced by this sceptred isle’s gardeners. Us ordinarily reserved Brits leaving that sort of exhibitionism to individuals from more uninhibited countries. Incidentally, when I write ‘I’ve... Continue Reading →