Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
I wrote recently of a new creative avenue I've started wandering. These tentative inaugural steps undertaken in the pastime of primitive art. Etchings drawn to accompany a whimsical quip or social comment, not to exhibit any prowess with the pencil, of which I'd be the first to admit I'm not technically gifted. Yesterday's drawing was... Continue Reading →
Despite existing on a landscape with the largest number of global media channels in history, today I've pondered whether any previous world crisis has manifested such widespread confusion amongst the populace. Attempting to pick wheat from the multitude of COVID chaff on both online and legacy communication conduits is, quite frankly, as challenging as picking... Continue Reading →
With precipitation yet again forming part of my writing landscape, the refrain 'The Rain In Spain Falls Mainly On The Plain' , from musical My Fair Lady, plays repeatedly on my cranial jukebox. This episode acting as a catalyst for a random attempt at adapting the song's lyric to reflect my local meteorology. Now, I'd like to think... Continue Reading →
Yesterday afternoon, yours truly received a much needed fillip when my son Jonny and fiancée Jenny arrived at chez Strachan on their trusty steed. This arrival rescuing spirits borne from being surrounded by a metaphorical circle of horse-drawn wagons, heavily laden with COVID induced melancholy. This euphoria at witnessing the couple's visit borne from knowledge... Continue Reading →
Yesterday our esteemed prime minister, Lord Boris of Johnson, raised UK governmental fears of a potential second spike in European COVID cases. From beneath trademark mopped blonde hair, the capricious japester-in-chief warning travellers that, should this angst bear fruit, further stringent quarantining edicts were on the cards. His lordship warning Brit's holidaying in foreign climes that, on... Continue Reading →
Having consumed two rounds of wholegrain toast, smeared heavily in marmite, washed down with a Baltic cold pint of water, I'm crouched on Tuesday 28th July's starting blocks ready to partake in today's literary race. Actually, race is probably the incorrect noun in the previous sentence. After all, you can't rush writing these narratives. I... Continue Reading →
Courtesy of coronavirus and the fact she lives 250 miles from me (although mainly coronavirus), this morning I got to see my daughter Rachel for the first time in months. My youngest offspring and her partner Brian tarrying to chez Strachan on their way back down to Kent - Following a two day break up... Continue Reading →
