Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred

Off The Wall Essays From Deep Within A Capricious Mind

Tag Archive for ‘storm’

The George Bailey Years

I’m fairly reliably informed Leeds’ afternoon meteorological guest will be April showers. Precipitation no doubt welcomed with open arms by fields of arable crops and domestic spring flower beds. Flora and fauna whose exposure to almost uninterrupted Easter holiday sunshine exposing them to aridity akin to a human’s palate after ingesting ten Jacobs crackers in swift succession. I say fairly reliably informed in the previous paragraph as if truth be […]

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Storm In A Soufflé Ramekin

As part of the seemingly endless destructive global meteorological events, Storm Brian paid us a visit yesterday. We didn’t invite ‘old Bri’, however, on Friday evening BBC Look North’s Paul Hudson (other weather presenters are available) mentioned to expect him. He also recommended that if Brian did turn up it would be prudent to hide the single malt whisky. Bri’s attendance was did cause some disruption in the UK, but at least he didn’t cause […]

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Cat On A Cold Wet Roof

The meteorological gods (Keeley Donovan and the blonde lass who reads the Calendar weather) have decreed that today we shall experience torrential rainfall in the West Yorkshire area. Word is that precipitation of biblical proportions will rain down on the residents of Bardsey, Wetwang, Heckmondwyke  and customers of the chip shop with a leaky roof in Ainsley Scragg. Although, technically Wetwang, which isn’t a euphemism or fictional village, is in North […]

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We’re Not Naming It After Your Dad

Yesterday, Storm Imogen ravaged parts of England and Wales. Seeing the devastation caused by Immy on the TV news, made me ponder as to who actually names these storms. After extensive research (3 minutes on google), I found out that the Met Office and Met Eireann use an alphabetical list of monikers chosen by the British and Irish public. As a distraction from having your roof tiles blown off onto […]

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The Calm During The Storm

I wanted to start this monologue with a simile that aptly describes this seemingly endless precipitation currently blighting Blighty. Within that prose, I wanted the colloquy to paint a picture of such clarity and descriptive quality that would render readers awestruck, before saying “Oh bollocks, I forgot to record that James Nesbitt drama last night!” I was badly in need of inspiration and desperately sought dialogue that offered the reader […]

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