Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Saturday 21st April - Yesterday, a scattering of my dad's ashes were mixed with the potting compost of two azaleas bought in his memory. A big fan of the shrubs that thrive in acidic soil, we thought it a fitting tribute for our late family head. My siblings and mother plan a similar homage to... Continue Reading →
Saturday 14th April - Yesterday evening, with vocal chords smoother than a Casanova pick up line, sharp clothing smoother than the escalators on the Piccadilly Line and soul refrains smoother than a Hollywood bikini line, US jazz singer Gregory Porter hit first direct Arena, Leeds. Actually, hit is probably too strong a word - Gently... Continue Reading →
Easter Monday - As I write, I'm plagued by jaw bone discomfort - A self inflicted facial injury, the consequence of my long-term grinding habit. As the act of grating the jaw makes me gurn, it's a tick I thankfully only carry out in the privacy of my own home. Gratifyingly, I don't undertake this... Continue Reading →
There was an 'interesting' verbal interaction with Mrs Strachan senior this morning as we climbed into my car while bound for the White Rose Shopping Centre. As we fastened our seat belts in synch, the following discussion took place:- "I see a bird has s**t on your car window." highlighted the old lady, while pointing... Continue Reading →
Unless you're a snowman, a young child who likes sledging/throwing snowballs or own a grit salt production company, I presume you opine this current weather to be a putrid carbuncle on the UK's façade. Before proceeding, I acknowledge my opening paragraph describing Blighty's present meteorology was over-egging the melodrama, however I didn't want to just... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, I ventured east on the A64 to the York Designer Outlet where I met up with my twentysomething son Jonny. An amiable young man, the fact he's occasionally prepared to read my narratives, when his sister steadfastly refuses, contribute to making the Leeds lad my favoured offspring. I'm not upset about my daughter Rachel's... Continue Reading →
It's nearly 10 years since I hung up my cricket boots. A decision born from my bowling being hampered from a bicep tear the previous season, which along with a nagging knee problem was diminishing my matchday fulfilment. Consequently, ceasing playing the game ex-Yorkshire batsman Geoff Boycott calls 'crickit' wasn't a difficult decision to reach. Over the previous 30 years I'd participated with as... Continue Reading →
Yesterday afternoon, I was in Leeds city centre with a team of volunteers collecting donations for the city's St Gemma's Hospice. Wrapped in several layers of clothing to counter the biting West Yorkshire cold, I spent three hours standing in various densely populated city streets with a collection bucket, witnessing the magnanimousness of our metropolis' citizens. Undertaking this type... Continue Reading →
Yesterday evening, while perched in my seat on row 9 of the Sheffield Arena, thoughts manifested themselves of Phil Collins' first major acting role as the Artful Dodger in the London stage production of Oliver! The epiphany of Collins' fledgling acting career in the early 60's made an unexpected visit whilst my wife Karen and I witnessed the ex-Genesis drummer/singer's... Continue Reading →