FELIXSTOWE SCRIBBLERS MEETING: TUESDAY
21st JANUARY 2014.
Apologies were received from Carolyn and
Suzy G.
In
attendance: Katy, Tony, Les, Liliane, Susie H, Cathy, Barry, Caz,
Jane, Richard, Clive, Martin, Dick, Beryl and Dave.
This evening's Bill Budner
Trophy competition was the best attended meeting for some time. With fifteen
present, it was a really healthy start to the year's writing programme but more
about the competition later. It was nice to see so many writer’s together, new
and old with a special welcome home to Les who very recently returned from his
stay in Australia. Many thanks too for the bottles of Scribblers wine that he
somehow smuggled back!
The
Felixstowe Book Festival 2014. Although the organiser has
filled most of the slotted times and events into the two day programme
currently we have yet to receive confirmation of our inclusion basically
depending on the agreement with the Library to have a 5pm-7pm slot on the
Saturday. However all is not lost if this is not possible as there is a
separate event taking place at Landguard Fort all day on the Saturday which
will feature writer’s, readings amongst a whole range of different events
throughout the day. The theme is based on World War One and will feature
stories associated with that time. Peppy Barlow, the organiser, has invited us
to attend if we wish so we ask that you think about whether you would like to
be part of that day.
The 21st staging of The Bill
Budner Trophy. With this being the 21st staging and all the
engraving places full, we took the decision at the AGM to offer the trophy as a
memento to Bill’s widow Maureen. I am pleased to say she has accepted the offer
and will receive the trophy at the May staging of the event. Maureen has kindly
offered to pay for the new trophy which is so very kind of her.
Sadly we had a little hiccup
as current holder Suzy was unable to attend the meeting but delivered the
trophy to the Library who stored it safely in the Staff Room for which we have
no access!!! Fortunately the day was saved by Les and the presentation of a
bottle of wine. At least the winner can drink the wine, but not of the cup! At the time of writing Caz has
collected the Cup and delivered it to Scott for engraving so hopefully, when we
meet again, Jane will receive her proper presentation.
Now for a short resumé of
stories which were expertly read, in turn, by Beryl and Dick.
One
Day: by Cathy: Jakey and Mum had been in the library a long
time listening to the mad old woman with bright green hair. There were other
ladies listening and making notes when the green haired lady said. “Everyone
has a story inside them! They just need to get it out!” In his wheelchair Jakey
wondered how you could get a story out from inside you. He had lots of stories like
last weekend, in respite care; Jerry took him to the seaside, gave him ice
cream, candyfloss and chips. Once Mandy from school pushed him to watch a
container ship being unloaded and hear all the clanging and booming noises on
the dock. Or the horrible Josie who got ‘stuck with him’. He played spy on Mum
loading holiday pictures on her laptop. They’d gone there to celebrate Jakey
being able to live with them instead of in a care home. Mum said ‘Speech
therapy here we come!’ One day, Jakey thought, when his voice works, he’d be
able to get his stories out.
Amaryllis:
by Susie G: Amaryllis, a curled foetus bulb, awaiting the
magic of life. The bulb falls where it falls and cannot move to more abundant
ground. A’ Marie Illis was born of Edna Farthing, a dormant egg awakened by
Ivan Illis in a sudden release of passion in the Fox and Hounds car park. A’
Marie Illis with eyes of unfed need and love, left with uncaring strangers day
in, year out. A’ Marie Illis watches the world through her baby blue eyes. A
kitten chews her cardigan buttons, a golden dog trails her in wake, a stranger
smiles, a neighbour soothes, a teacher shares and shows a universe of
possibilities. Roots reach and stretch for sustenance across fertile and barren
lands. A noble proud head aiming high, a bud of promised beauty. Our A’ Marie
Illis gains a degree and gets a broadcasting job but is violated by a male
celebrity. She seeks comfort in the bottle; homelessness and destitution follow
and sells her body. Found at Christmas she is helped back to education, a
degree in law, and becomes a barrister. A flowering figure of truth, a blooming
bud of the purest white, nods in a fair and gentle breeze.
The
Plot: by Beryl: It was a clever plot when Maggie’s mother and
father were invited to Sophie’s on Saturday night. Maggie fell into the trap.
When they arrived they were introduced to Sophie’s cousins, Kit and her son
David. That’s when realised her parents were trying to organise her life. It
had taken a while getting over John in his Hampstead bed-sit and his friends parties
every Friday and Saturday night. The women were mostly teachers or social workers,
the men perpetual students or in part-time employment. John worked in a toy shop
where he played war games with his boss and decided to study for an MA in
Military History. That was it. Maggie broke off the engagement. Meanwhile Kit
enthused over her elder son and her daughter to the detriment of David who
oversaw museums in Greater London. Maggie was interested but had to go with her
parents to catch the tube when they said he’d never call. The next morning David
did phone. They went to a museum the following Saturday and the rest, as they
say, is history.
A
Man and His Job: by Katy: An unusual but amusing entry, a poem
that began ‘There was a young man from York.’ He loved talking but lived on his
own. He was a security guard but didn’t see many people and missed talking to
people all day. Watching TV he wrote his CV as he really wanted a new job. He
phoned round for advice and was told not to talk too much so off he went for an
interview. He told the receptionist about the job and was called in. He
couldn’t believe the flash mob and wondered if this was his ideal job. He
wanted to be a red coat and was hoping to work on a boat. He danced and pranced
and did all he could. Then the important call, he’d got the job and sealed the
deal. They’d start on Monday, would stop at San Francisco Bay. He’d got his
chance, packed all his things to leave behind being alone. Next Monday he’ll be
sailing away.
Grandma:
by Martin: When Mummy tells me off Grandma says that
Mummy was really naughty when she was my age. One day Grandma had to go to
hospital. Mummy said I could visit her when she felt better. Mummy said Grandma
had died. I asked where she had gone but Mummy said no-one knows the answer to
that. She told me some people believe that when they die it is like the end of
a story, others believe that when they die they come back and have another life
like a ballerina or an astronaut. Some people believe when they die they go to
heaven and it is very nice there. I went to Grandma’s funeral and we sang a
song. I think Grandma is an angel now and looks after me.
Take
a Letter: by Richard: Gerald Baldry picked up his Schaeffer,
just the pen for a reprimand. He wrote to Kate asking why she had left him
waiting, and could have said it she was ill but suggested called round after
school to relax and listen to music. Hand delivering the letter to her house
the door opened and Kate’s mother recognised him. Kate was in hospital but had
regained consciousness. She would give the letter to Kate. Gerald panicked in
case her mother read the letter. He would be in trouble so he went to hospital and
managed to find Kate’s ward. The notes explained, ‘road traffic accident.’ He
grabbed the unopened letter that’s when Dr Helen Baker appeared and recognised
him as her old maths teacher. Later the doctor told colleagues she went round
to his house but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Gerald wondered if Kate
would call round but she never did. Instead there was Gillian, then Melanie,
then Judith then an interview with the Head. Then early retirement!
The
Wrong Type: by Jane: ‘What d’you reckon?’ Cathy angled the
computer screen towards Heather. ‘Not bad,’ was the response. They looked at
the sexy 47 year old, divorcee with no children. ‘Email him, fix a date!’ but
Cathy seemed reluctant. ‘Still pining for the fraudster Ombula and your £5,000?
Or that Gerry who liked wearing your underwear? What’s wrong with this guy? By
the time you get to our age they’ve all got their quirks’ Heather said. ‘It’s
his hobby,’ Cathy replied. ‘Urine tasting! A urine tasting poet!’ Heather read
the screen. Lover of fine urines then said ‘What if he’s taking the piss?’ They
laughed, even more when she added, ‘Tell him you’re a pee-totaller!’ He’s
having a joke o some sort but just click the bloody thing, I’m gasping for a
glass of wine...’
Babylonian
Confrontations: by Tony: Shimmon of Byzantium tapped on the
unmarked door, a bolt slid across and the door opened slowly. Ralno the
Phoenician welcomed him and led him down the dark passage to a small smoke
filled room. Ralno wanted to meet Alexander who claimed to be the son of Zeus. ‘He
owes me a favour,’ he told the Phoenician and explained that Alexander could
not touch iron. He gave Shimmon a letter for Alexander and he set off, eventually
reaching the Golden Palace Two Babylonian guards approached and Shimmon told
them he had a token and a letter for King Alexander. He was led to the King in
his bedchamber who read the note then asked ‘You wish to join my army?’ A
vizier arrived and claimed a massacre in Lonarten and of cannibalism and strange
rites.’ How will you punish these men?’ Shimmon asked and Alexander replied, ‘Silence
the complainers! Sell them as eunuchs to Turkish harems and for you, my friend,
I will invent death.’
Take
The Easy Way Out: by Barry: ‘To whom it may concern: if
you are reading this then I have done it. Please place on my tomb stone the
name Jake. That’s not my real name but nobody alive cares about me.’ Jake never
knew his father. His mother said he was just some bloke who gave her twenty
quid one night. His brother John went to prison for killing mother’s brutal
boyfriend then one day he hung himself. Mother was an alcoholic who didn’t care
less. One day the bathroom door was locked, so Jake kicked it down and found
her. The paramedics were too late. Jake became suicidal and wrote his note. He
prepared to jump from a tall building but stopped. It wasn’t the end at all,
but the beginning; he went to college to study, passed with honours and now
runs a charity to help lost souls. Mandy was one. She could not cope anymore.
He told her his story. Now they are expecting their first child and are about
to marry...
The
Open Window: by Dick: At heart I was an honest man, an accountant
for a family firm of wholesale grocery suppliers. Eventually the business was
taken over by a bigger and corrupt firm whose practises were thoroughly
dishonest. Its management became careless in its illegal practises and the
company was exposed and collapsed. Out of work I tried for other positions but
mention of my previous employment saw my applications rejected. Money ran out,
my landlord evicted me and I ended on the streets. Cold, wet and hungry in desperation I climbed
though an open window fell asleep on the floor. Awoken by the owner I tried begged
for charity. He was The Great Sampretti, Mind Bender Extraordinaire and he gave
me work, as his slave. Looking into his eyes his will was greater than mine and
made me into a skilful burglar, robbing at his command and loathing the person
I became.
Mods
and Rockers: by Caz: The 1960s; she was getting into boys with
scooters rather than motorbikes, sitting behind good looking Mod parka-clad
teenage scooter riders. Once at traffic lights three motorcycles drew
menacingly alongside us then continually cut us up for a number of miles. That
was the way when clans of Mods and Rockers came together in the Bank Holiday
Monday clashes. Mods had fashion and a clean cut image on their side, Rockers
the slicked back hair, leather jackets and boots or winkle pickers. One night
at a dance, she was chatted up by a guy called Roy who turned out to be a
rocker but she dated for a time before he went off into the Army. She recalled
how she might have ended up a biker’s girl instead the Mod she was.
Where
is She?: by Dave: The newscaster said a woman’s body had been
found in a Suffolk lake. Tom’s wife Jane had been missing since the evening
before. In turmoil he phoned family and friends without success. She wasn’t in
hospital and the police said she would likely return home the following day. He
found emails from ‘Mason’ suggesting an online affair and had set up their
first date in a secluded countryside spot in the afternoon. Later an angler
heard a loud splash in the lake: early hours Mason went back and torched her
car whilst an early morning dog walker discovered her body in the lake.
Responding to the broadcast Tom phoned the police who wouldn’t say who the
woman was... until they knocked at his door.
Aboriginal
Stories: by Liliane: Relating to many Aboriginal stories recorded
in connection with a set of cards called ‘The Oracle of Dreamtime.’ The stories
are not all ancient but include the myth that a kangaroo tried to leap the
river, got stuck in the mud only to become the Sydney Harbour Bridge! Myths
surround the sun, the moon and the rainbow serpent, the latter being the
creator spirit responsible for creatures that populated the earth. Namarragon,
the Lightening Man creates the thunder and lightning. Myths also relate to
humans becoming stars, even the Seven Sisters were once human. Beliefs also
suggest that humans became flowers or turned into a bird or animal. Then there
is the sacred place known as Uluru...
Springtime
in Kensington: by Clive: Sharing memories relating to a previous
lifetime, February time and beyond, in
Edwardes Square off the Kensington High Street with its enclosed garden for
residents only. One house has a huge magnolia tree almost decades old. Between
the office and the Town Hall it was always the first to bloom signifying the
start of spring. From buds to the full beauty of its creamy flowers.
Disappointing that soon after their purpose was served and they dropped to the
ground in a carpet of creaminess. Colourful flowers in gardens replaced them
including the stunning waterfall of pastel blue rivulets of wisteria.
Springtime in Kensington, truly magnificent.
The
standard of writing was excellent, although this resumé hardly
does justice, but most satisfying that everyone achieved votes in the most
closely fought competition in its history. With four entries tying for first
place a count back was initiated with Jane
coming out as a worthy winner with her story “The Wrong Type”. Jane has
been runner-up three times previously so this was her first win and justice!
Many congratulations.
The
three joint second places, Tony, Martin and Katy could
not be split so a draw took place for the second bottle of wine with Martin
winning. Still a really good achievement especially for Katy who was thrilled
to have her poem voted one of the best entries of the night.
Possibly one of our longest meetings
and so many thanks were due. To Beryl and Dick for their untiring deliveries of
the stories, to each and every writer for their fantastic efforts, to Jane for
her win, to Liliane for collecting the key, to Les donating the wine, to Dick
for donating biscuits and to Caz for sorting out the trophy.
A
card
was sent to our retired secretary, Barry D, who has since thanked us and wishes
us well. He hopes to be back in the near future. We hope so too!
Our
next meeting is on Tuesday 4th February in The
Room at the Top when the homework assignment is to write a story or a poem beginning
with the words “I won the cup”. The meeting will start promptly at
7.30pm.
Until we meet again,
Keep Scribbling!
Dave
