Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Last weekend saw my inaugural visit to a music festival. It has only took six decades but the wait was well worth it, even the ninety minutes it took to get from the venue entrance to my camper van pitch. If there is a sun god, he also had tickets to the musical clambake. His... Continue Reading →
On this day in mid-1960's my younger brother Ian made his inaugural appearance into the world. Born at our Leeds home, our kid arrived shortly after, in their second World Heavyweight Championship fight Cassius Clay had knocked out Sonny Liston. With Clay (latterly Muhammed Ali) winning by first round KO, Ian didn't arrive in time to... Continue Reading →
At the risk of turning this into a less accomplished Alan Bennett biscuit monologue, yesterday I became reacquainted with the joys of Rich Teas. After having my head turned with the enchantment of a chocolate Hob Nob in the mid-1980's, a cookie pleasure I'd not experienced for decades. The chocolate coated seductresses beckoning me to... Continue Reading →
My brother Ian will shortly arrive for a two day hiatus at my West Yorkshire apartment. News of my habitually clumsy siblings return to the area of his birth no doubt leading to the flat's ornaments quaking in their boots. Of course, the ornamental trinkets don't literally quake in the boots. For one thing they're... Continue Reading →
It played out one year ago..... 12 months...... 365 days..... Events ensuring, irrespective of future occurrences on that date, 3rd October will remain indelibly tainted within the family as being the calendar juncture of my mums passing. The familial matriarch's protracted 2021 demise playing out in an Ossett care home; the final dark proceedings witnessed... Continue Reading →
I've a topic request for today's blog. Well, that's not strictly true as it was the style of writing, not the actual subject matter within the paragraphs, which I was asked to alter for this post. The request coming from my Ossett squeeze Sarah's youngest daughter Katelan who, during a literary critique of my penmanship,... Continue Reading →
Thirty two years ago tomorrow I became a father for the first time when my son Jonathon joined the cast of this reality show called life. A rollercoaster of a gig my boy has thus far weathered relatively well; arriving into adulthood as an engaging and grounded young man of whom I'm immensely proud. Never... Continue Reading →
Easter Saturday has bequeathed West Yorkshire's populace warm(ish) Bank Holiday temperatures. Consequently, yours truly intends to venture out later to take in a local league cricket match. A game which, although not partaking for over a decade, I played for 30 years from my mid-teens. Cricket a game of which I've written about on numerous... Continue Reading →
As I disclosed in yesterday's prose Skimming the Surface, I learned many useful life lessons as a child growing up in Low Fell, Gateshead. Amongst these tutorial gems were, when partaking in the controversy laden world of table football games, my brother Ian was a right flaming cheat. Our kid will no doubt have his... Continue Reading →