Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred

Off The Wall Essays From Deep Within A Capricious Mind

Tag Archive for ‘writing’

Literary Inferno

I’ve recently returned from the White Rose Shopping Centre (WRSC), in South Leeds, where I purchased a new printer upon which I intend to produce Word document copies of my daily narratives. At the cost of £19.99, this a gracious offer from monsieur WH Smith and his splendid stationery emporium. Quite perversely, the purchase price less than that of forking out for new ink cartridges for my old hardware. GJ […]

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How Tall?!

Yesterday, during a conversation about height, a buddy of mine enquired “How tall are you, Gary?…. About 5ft 11, or you 5ft 12?” Humoured at this ordinarily intelligent person’s idiosyncratic use of the measurement 5ft 12 instead of 6ft, I felt moved to inform them I was 5ft 11 in the even more ridiculous form of advising “No, I’m 4ft 23!” Despite us laughing uncontrollably about their inadvertently whimsical query, […]

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The Second Miracle of Headingley

Prior to World War II (WWII), World War I (WWI) went by the moniker of the Great War. For a conflict which bore absolutely nothing great about it, a misnomer on the most grotesque scale. Calling it a war is even questionable in some commentators eyes. After all, the obscenity of some warfare strategies employed between 1914-1918 were little short of serving troops up as cannon fodder. Less a war, moreover […]

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Wherever I Lay My Sowester (That’s My Home)

This morning, I’m afflicted by an ordinarily infrequent case of writers block. A rare creative imposter which I’m currently unable to vanquish, despite sitting in a White Rose Centre coffee house indulging in a spot of people watching. A pastime which ordinarily manifests ideas aplenty, but thus far hasn’t provided GJ Strachan with any noteworthy notions for a narrative topic. The mall’s retail outlets bustling with members of the West […]

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Suburbia

Along with Monday evenings warm breeze, solar rays act as suburban Wakefield’s current meteorological consorts. Through opened French doors which allow exposure to outside’s temperate airflow, my audio companions are cutlery clanking on crockery produced by neighbours dining alfresco, chirping garden birds and the distant rumble of tyres on the nearby M1. There are other noises emanating into my domain via les portes ouverte, however I’m unable to state with any […]

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Spinning The Wheel

It’s rare I remember my dreams. This morning, though, a segment of last night’s slumber visions remained with me until my waking hour. This sleep scene a rather dark encounter where, while within the dream I was penning a narrative in a coffee house, I was held at gunpoint by three ‘desperados’ with aspirations of stealing my laptop device. Within my state of slumber, the three gun totting aggressors lulling […]

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Giving Up The Seat I’ve Been Saving

On Sunday morning, arriving downstairs post-reveille to the sight of my mother baking momentarily regressed me back to my boyhood. The pouring of Kellogs’ cereal into a yellow Tupperware bowl, which we’d had since the late 1960’s, in association with mater’s mixing bowl magic transporting me back to my Gateshead childhood. Up to her elbows in flour, eggs, milk, sugar and water, in reference to my tardiness at leaving my […]

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