FELIXSTOWE
SCRIBBLERS MEETING: TUESDAY 19th NOVEMBER 2013
Apologies
were received from Katy, Barry D, Jane, Martin and Caz.
Those
present for the evening were Clive, Susie H, Carolyn, Suzi G, Tony, Liliane,
Beryl, Barry M, Les, Dick and Dave
News:
Good
news, Ally has given birth to a bouncy 8lb plus baby boy, Noah, Jack.
Morag has
now started writing her ‘Coach Trip’ again after a long spell away from it.
Beryl is
now on the last chapter of her book.
Dave has
just 15 more pages to edit to complete the biography of a 91 year old, Clifford
Newton, which covers from birth through to the end of the Second World War.
This is not for publication but a personal account for Cliff’s family.
Clive
brought two packets of biscuits. Thank you!
Not so good
news from Katy. She has been ill, has had an accident when her car was ripped
open like a tin opener by a lorry. Glad she was unhurt but she is taking time
to chill out. Our thoughts are with her.
Angela A
has been in touch to say she hopes to get back to Scribblers again in the near
future, after a change in work routines.
Ray
has been in contact and wishes to say thanks for all the messages he received
after his move.
Last Saturday’s author talk by local Tim Voelcker on
Saturday on “Broke of the Shannon
and the War of 1812” was extremely interesting as have been all author talks at
the Library. It was nice to be able to support the library in this way and
learn a bit more history to boot.
The group was pleased with the article in the Felixstowe Supplement
of the East Anglian Daily Times that appeared on 6th November
Welcome
Back:
There was
a welcome back for Susie tonight after missing a few meetings due to moving
home and work commitments.
Now for the results of our ‘Place’ homework assignment
which was quite surprising as most were based in this country and very true
stories.
Tony: Brighton Road:
Tony met Lesley at college and she had a major effect on
his life. He was engaged to her best friend Jacque who had a blood disorder,
was pregnant and died in childbirth moments before the baby also passed away.
Lesley saved him from committing suicide but she married Roland moving into
Brighton Road. However Roland disappeared without trace. At the same time Tony’s
mother fell ill and went into a convalescent home in Brighton Road, Clacton. Free
again Lesley fell for Tony and became pregnant just before Roland re-appeared.
She gave birth to Suki but Tony was left in the cold. Rebuilding his life he
took an office job in Brighton Road, Surbiton. Roland disappeared again. Meanwhile
Tony met Angie and they gave Lesley and her daughter refuge until she flew to
Australia where she met someone else and was to be married but the relationship
broke up. She took Suki for a drive and was speeding along Brighton Road,
Melbourne when she crashed into a stationary container truck.
Suzi: The Path:
The train was packed, a crush of passengers some of whom
she knew. Mothers, sisters, brothers. Anxious fathers outside the delivery
room. Doreen treasured every birth. Now it was about to end. Only three weeks
to go. Rain poured down as she started her walk home longing for that nice hot
cup of tea. But first there was the path that her home, a path that was her
dread of abduction or murder. A tin dropped from her bag and she stooped to
pick it up. Quickening footsteps followed her then a hand grabbed her shoulder.
One of the three youths said, ‘You dropped this.’ But she began to fall and they
saved her, walked her home, opened her door, made a cup of tea, lit her fire
and returned the purse she had accidentally dropped. The path held no fears
after that.
Carolyn: 'The Last
Apartment':
A tale about the first time she saw the
apartment in Paris which she would eventually own. The agent met her and
her husband and son on the footpath and led them through a peaceful
courtyard, then up a set of curving wooden stairs to the first floor. Inside
the apartment, the two rooms were small but contained classic
French features she'd always dreamt about -- tall double windows with
lacy iron balconies, parquet floors, high ceilings with
lovely mouldings, and marble fireplaces. After a lifetime of
dreaming and days of viewing everything from run-down dumps to modern,
characterless spaces, she felt a strange but wonderful sense of
having arrived home.
Susie: Every Place is
a Journey:
This place is my sanctuary, provides protection, allows
reflection, rest and healing. It is the tin temple to my tired soul. It has a
heart helping provide the courage to a new path. Growing through the Bowie and
punk years, transition to University digs full of the young escaping the
constraints of parents. Alter egos and hedonistic escapism. Sit-ins, marches,
Greenham Common, the miners’ strike. Flat shares, coupledom, marriage and
babies. Wild parties gave way to children’s parties, then to dinner and garden
parties. Children move on. Downsize to our idyllic cottage by the sea, living
aboard a yacht, shrinking places, expanding horizons. Now my pikie nest brought
tears the day I moved in. Smelly and dirty but will power, disinfectant a steam
cleaner cleansed my temple. Flowers, furniture; a transformation. Now my space,
a place to recover my balance, where I return after work to my soothing
peaceful sanctuary. My tin pikie nest. Home is where the heart is.
Clive: N10, London:
It was cold... extremely cold. Rob stood there at quarter
to seven on the freezing February morning, suited with Wellingtons, a Gortex
lined raincoat and chunky scarf. The place was starkly beautiful, a haven for
wildlife and as peaceful as anywhere so close to London. Peter arrived,
stomping feet for warmth until Saf the superintendant arrived to drive them
along the rough private roadway in his untaxed, unroadworthy black cab. They
reached the appointed place and launched themselves into the cold. The others
were there, all in black, looking professional. Rob peered into the majestic
ethereal misty dawn and wondered why they were all there. The hole was dug, its
sides shored up. Water was slopping about the bottom of the pit as they
struggled to raise the coffin at the behest of relatives thence to move it to a
better place. Soon Rob and Peter would be in the greasy cafe just outside
Kensall Green Cemetery.
Dave: My
Heaven...Their Hell:
A favourite place, situated on the northern Cornish coast
facing the Atlantic Ocean. A place with a dramatic rocky coast line, coves and
caves, miles of sandy beaches, beautiful, peaceful and near deserted on a
summers day. Carnewas and the Bedruthan Steps accessible only by a walk down a
steep gradient to the steep steps leading down to the beach. Their Hell was a
follow on story of two silly teenagers ignorant to the dangers of the tide and
storm. Trapped in a cave by the storm driven sea, they try to make their escape
but it was left to the search and rescue helicopter to scour the area for them.
Les: Close as always:
This is a poem celebrating his Les’s life with his
beloved Joanie. For all the times they had together as ‘Two old romantics, my
Joanie and me,’ ‘Two old lovers, true lovers still,’ even after 58 years. Yet
it begins making plans, moving on through their ‘own touch of heaven’. Contentment,
then the arrival of their boys, to brighten their days. When the boys flew the
nest then off they went ‘to see the world’. In times of illness Joan remained
his lover, his carer, his nurse but now she has gone she remains in his heart,
loving memories they’ll never be apart, Her portrait looks down and, says Les,
‘I know for sure she is close, she is near.’
Dick: Three poems:
Rhine Images, (a Magi sequence poem): Three words to a
line, three lines to a verse, bringing the journey from Holland to Switzerland
to life, absorbing rivers, cruise and cargo ships, cruising palaces taking in
pastoral beauty and dowdy industrialisation from the Rhine.
The Rocky Mountaineer, (straight verse): A majestic journey
across the Canadian Rockies, written in such a way that you feel the completion
motion, the poetry of the railway between Jasper and Whistler all within a
gentle absorbing 24 hours.
Salcombe Summer, (rhyming verse): A delightful poem
providing postcard images of Salcombe in a Devonshire summer. Sun, sand, birds,
boats on mud flats. Private swimming pools, narrow streets and shops aplenty,
cheerful inns, Salcombe a Summer Treat.
Barry M: Sunday
Morning:
Tina made her way downstairs feeling decidedly unsexy.
Harry hid behind the Sunday broadsheet as she waited for the kettle to boil. He
said he’d have a cup but continued reading. No please or thank you not even
when she put the cup down in front of the paper. He just read on. Tina read a
discarded Sunday magazine when an advert caught her eye. For £2,300 she could
have breast, arm or face surgery and for another £400 she could have six nights
recuperation in a luxury hotel. All she had to do was book a flight to the
Ukraine. Harry went off to golf, Tina’s friend Judy came round for a Jacuzzi.
They needed money to get to the Ukraine; pretend they’d been kidnapped and
being held to ransom. Or divorce? Out of the question. Divine intervention was
needed. Harry bought a gym and demonstrating the new fitness machine his legs
slowed, the machine did not. He was flung off and died. Judy whispered in
Tina’s ear, ‘Divine intervention!’
Beryl: Dunston
Houses:
Sam is taking me to the Rockers who live in Dunstan Houses
in Stepney Green. It is a huge Victorian monolith five storeys high. Susie a
work colleague has a single room which has a cooker but no sink or toilet. They
are communal on landings or hallways. The smell is unpleasant. The Rockers have
an ever-open door and their flat is different. On the top floor it has three
rooms even its own lavatory. The views across the smoky air are panoramic. The
room is untidy with overfull bookshelves spilling onto the floor. Pictures hang
higgledy-piggledy on the walls. The welcome is warm and soon the food is served
to the many and followed by boisterous songs. How I enjoy myself.
Liliane: Last Day in
Paris:
A letter from Kitty to Elly relating her very last day in
la Ville Lumiere before heading home. No more visits to nightclubs or the
Moulin Rouge, nor going up the Eiffel Tower. Just a nice quiet day. The girls
wanted to do some last minute shopping, Grandma wanted another hat and Paul was
buying an outfit for his wife Imelda. Grandpa moaned that he would be bankrupted.
Everyone was short of money but those who could afford to shop did so whilst
the others looked on. Elaine thought the trip had been unwise but her husband
promised just the two of them would return next year. The evening meal was the
usual gathering, everyone round the table faced with critical Aunt Ida
complaining about the way the children were being brought up... Eventually
peace was restored at the end of the day and it was goodbye to la Ville Lumiere...
I will again thank everyone for ‘loaning’ copies of their
homework to enable an easier reporting process – just hope I have done justice
to your work. In truth I can again savour all the stories! Thanks everyone!
Finally just to wish Les a Happy Christmas as he makes
his way down to his relations in Australia once again. Have a great time and
see you in the New Year!
Our next meeting is in two week’s time,
Tuesday 3rd December at 7.30pm when the homework assignment of up to
1,000 words is on “A Winters Tale”.
Until the next time...
Keep Scribbling,
Dave
