Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
During a routine tidy of a little used storage area within chez Strachan, I stumbled upon on old car first aid kit of my fathers. One look at this ageing collection of bandages, plasters, lints, micropore tape et al, revealing the old man'd procured this medical mishmash a good few years back. In fact, upon... Continue Reading →
I feel moved to enter the idiom 'It is what it is' at some point within today's narrative. As this journal is a literary riff, only time will tell whether yours truly fulfils that aspiration. Although, as the oft used saying is actually present in the first sentence of this narrative, I guess by definition... Continue Reading →
I'm currently making the most of sitting in an environment of rare serenity in chez Strachan. For the first time in a week I'm writing a blog without a distracting background soundscape, such as the murmur of daytime TV, nor the thunderous snoring of my mother or Coco (the canine buddy I'm dog sitting until... Continue Reading →
A pleasant stroll around Ardsley reservoir with Coco provided this mornings raison d'être for yours truly. My little Labrador buddy and I making the most of cooler mid morning temperatures to complete a circuit of the Wakefield parkland. Our slow perambulation around the lake's 1.5 mile circumference allowing the inquisitive canine time to explore every... Continue Reading →
With my brother Ian visiting for three night stay, I'd a two day sabbatical from writing over the weekend. Late nights, excessive imbibing of vino, gardening and building a wheelie bin store ensuring I'd neither the time or energy levels to wax lyrical. Feeling drained from lack of sleep and over the top thirst quenching,... Continue Reading →
During arbitrary surfing of the net, this morning I witnessed an online sale for recovered sofas. GJ Strachan wasn't intrigued enough to ask what the chaise lounges had recovered from, but was heartened to hear the settee was recuperating well. Clearly, the recovery of which I relay above was of an upholstery nature, not medical;... Continue Reading →
I'm finding the writing process more challenging and significantly less cathartic of late. The strain of being a full-time carer for my mum, and having to write in sporadic spurts due to higher priority chores, diminishing the esprit ordinarily imparted by penning prose. In particular, I'm finding writing in my favoured genre of whimsy tough... Continue Reading →
On Sunday as the kitchen clock's minute hand shifted onto 08.15am, marking the time of my birth 58 years to the day, I sat at the breakfast table reflecting on the circle of life. In particular, pondering that on that occasion how reliant I'd have been on the 22 year old who'd just given birth... Continue Reading →
The thin gruel provided from living a COVID lifestyle wears particularly heavy today. A mood that's diminished further from just witnessing England cricketer Jonny Bairstow losing his wicket in India. My fellow Yorkshireman holing out in the deep while six runs short of what would've been an accomplished century. Although, on a positive note, as... Continue Reading →