Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
“How do I define history? ..... It's just one f***ing thing after another” A whimsical quote borrowed from Leeds writer Alan Bennett's prose in the tome History Boys. An observation which, when dusk falls on the year 2020, will perfectly describe the twelve months being consigned to a very large toxic waste bin. As this... Continue Reading →
Tis a gradely day here in West Yorkshire. An oppressive heat affording opportunity for us Brits to indulge in our national sport of whinging about the weather. These meteorological clarion calls a year long pastime which, if segwayed into Olympic competition, the GB/NI squad would undoubtedly strike gold. Previously, I oft pondered why the same... Continue Reading →
Two days ago, a friend gifted me a Fitbit health monitor watch. Consequently, I'll now be party to more informed statistical data relating to my daily fitness regime. Management information which'll confirm officially, if re-affirmation was required, that GJ Strachan currently undertakes absolutely sod all on the exercise front. My above paragraph not decrying this... Continue Reading →
Over the past two evenings I've lit two chiminea fires. Occasions where I'd sat contentedly adjacent to the pyre, while warmth from the blaze warmed my short clad legs and cockles of my heart...... Or should that be warmed the heartles of my........ Ok, ok, stop that right now, Strachan! There's fewer endorphin boosting redolences... Continue Reading →
For the third Father's Day on the trot, it's with tempered melancholy I'm unable to bestow the oft predictable trinkets I'd gift my dad on this day. Expressions whose value bore much more affectionate value than monetary, however, without exception thoroughly appreciated by my forebear. A habitual bottle of Chilean merlot and recently released musical... Continue Reading →
Last night's Zoom quiz amongst the chaps passed in the company of habitual guests whimsy, competitiveness, absurdity, live music, one or two bowls of loud mouth soup and snacking on crisps. This heady amalgam providing an evening of variety entertainment enjoyed by British audiences since Victorian music hall days. Three hours, or so, affording likeminded... Continue Reading →
I've been delayed in writing today's frivolous literary cook up; a consequence of setting up an Amazon Echo Dot. This device delivered just as I'd earlier parked my posterior on a dining chair and opened my laptop lid with lexicological intent. Ordinarily, when confronted with such distractions, I'll remain steadfastly focussed upon the written job... Continue Reading →
As my dear old mum would say, Thursday 19th June is being played out accompanied by "Weather for ducks!" Incidentally, as no doubt the Leeds lass would've prefixed the word 'weather' with the mildly cursory 'bleeding', I'm paraphrasing at this juncture. The word 'bleeding' her go to adverb in the occasions Maggie feels she's perhaps... Continue Reading →
"You're too thin, Bethany!" Yours truly's soundscape as I commence this chronicle. Well, that's what the coo of a nearby wood pigeon appears to be announcing in the direction of another Columbidae; perhaps suggesting they've an eating disorder they ought to address. Of course, that's purely my interpretation of the bird's cry. From the wood pigeons... Continue Reading →