Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Day three of housesitting my former marital home. As alluded to in Saturday's monologue, initially the sixteen months I've spent away from this abode impaired my memory as to the storage location of numerous items. Thankfully, though, I've now re-acquainted myself with where pots, pans, glasses, tins and shower gel are housed. Yesterday, yours truly... Continue Reading →
My search for a creative/content writing role continues apace...... Well, apace is probably exaggerating the prevailing verve in which GJ Strachan seeks a literary work role..... In fact, I recently learned a sloth beat me to a blogging role I'd applied for last week. In the sloths defence, even if I'd have got my application... Continue Reading →
I've just been reminded by Mrs Strachan senior that our clocks go back in a few days..... Those bloody bailiffs never give us a break!.... Seriously, though, at the weekend 2020's British Summer Time (BST) concludes when clocks turn back an hour. In chez Strachan these sixty minutes aren't ordinarily utilised by augmenting my sleep longevity.... Continue Reading →
I'm taking my daughter Rachel for lunch today - Accompanied by her grandma (my mum), we're venturing to a local Italian restaurant. Getting my mater to eat something which isn't English fare is always a challenge. However, after assuring her the eatery will've something containing potatoes amongst it's Mediterranean menu, I've persuaded my forebear to... Continue Reading →
Unless scenic walks, queuing outside a supermarket, or standing in an empty shopping mall and cacophonously screaming "Aaaarrrggghhh!!" is your bag, under prevailing lockdown edicts entertainment rations outside of the home are indeed meagre. Even the chair of the Entertainment Rations Are Meagre Society (ERAMS), Clive Tyretread, who's seen some pretty piss poor times during... Continue Reading →
At the advent of this prose, an azure sky envelopes my West Yorkshire domain. Birdsong the only aural interjection of utter silence..... Oh, hold on, one of the neighbours has just started using his rotary saw. It's an idiosyncratic way of cutting the lawn, but the appliance cost him a fortune so he aims to... Continue Reading →
Scene - A West Yorkshire detached house in West Yorkshire village. Like the majority of his global kin, a middle-aged man lives under house arrest in a cunning COVID-19 avoidance strategy. His neurosis so elevated he resolves not to exit his home until there's a cure for the potentially fatal pathogen, or unless his local... Continue Reading →
With Danny Baker's audiobook 'Going To Sea In A Sieve' my aural companion, I commence this second blog of the day with dusk taking over the Northern hemisphere baton from Friday's daylight watch. Amongst the dark times remit's ascension, the overseeing of all things COVID-19 related. With a triumvirate of governmental heads, including prime minister... Continue Reading →
In about two hours I'll be partaking in only my second ever Pilates class. This re-entering into the contrology studio resultant of, bar finding balancing on one leg without falling over a challenge, thoroughly enjoying my recent inaugural session of the core enhancing exercise. This lack of stability while attempting to remain upright on a... Continue Reading →