In attendance: Hattie,
Tom, Richard, Mairéad, Suzy, Beryl, Barry, Tony, Liliane, Derek, Dick, Jane and
Dave.
Apologies were
received from Carolyn, Martin, Cathy, Katy, Caz and Gerry.
Get Well
Soon: It was sad to learn from Caz that Les was rushed to hospital this
morning after being visited at home by our former secretary Barry Darnell who
had called round and made the 111 call. Further information will be given as
soon as possible but let us wish Les a speedy recovery. (Update Wednesday: Caz says that Les is on Sproughton Ward, Ipswich
Hospital, but should be released on Friday. Les is 82 on Thursday.)
News: Our Italian based friend Angela
Petch has been shortlisted he has been short listed again for a 500 word
Flash Fiction, title: “Stage struck”. You can see her story by going to www.mashstories.com then competitions and
click on current shortlists. Angela asks that if you think her story deserves a
vote then please vote for her! As a distant Scribbler I think she deserves our
support!
Dick has a story published in this month’s Best of British magazine.
The magazine is based on nostalgia.
The Jack Wilkinson Memorial Walk was a success with fine
weather and – although Caz was missing tonight because of a family birthday –
Tony took on the mantle of gathering in the sponsorship so hopefully a nice
amount will be handed over to Cancer Research UK.
Draw tickets in aid of EACH (East Anglia’s Children’s
Hospices) will be on sale at our next meeting, another very worthy cause.
Dave has drawn up a programme for 2015 which, after
discussion, will feature very little change in format. Copies will be forwarded
to everyone in due course.
And so to the homework
assignment, ‘Boots’.
Richard: Boots: A double page spread in the
Guardian listed the battles and skirmishes Britain has been involved in since
1914, astonishingly not one year of peace in 100 years. Richard talked about
military boots, highly polished ones that you could see your face in.
Empowering sounds of hundreds of boots marching in step. The wars – in 1930 the
north-west frontier between Afghanistan and India and others like Aden,
Palestine, Korea, and Suez, the Falklands and Northern Ireland. Houses and
streets named the fiascos of the Crimean war, and even the Inkerman pub in
Ipswich. A friend, born in Britain but living in Holland is Jewish, his
allegiance is everywhere and nowhere... and he is as near as dammit a free man.
Liliane: Autumn Days: The continuation of Liliane’s family
saga. Autumn provided us children much to do like looking for acorns and
conkers in the park. It was fun running through the leaves and going for walks
on wet days when we wore our raincoats and gumboots to keep our feet dry. The
park, like the wild garden behind our house, was beautiful in October. Ever
since cousin Francis fell out of a tree in the garden when a rotten branch gave
way, we were forbidden to climb any trees until the tree surgeon arrived in
November. Autumn storms could be scary and some more branches came off the
trees but nobody was hurt. When the wind blew, the leaves collected in piles,
clogged up drains and covered steps and terraces. At the end of October came
the Feast of the Dead, and soon after there would be Christmas to look forward
to.
Derek: Grandfather’ Lost Years: The tears ran down my
Mother’s cheeks and in my young boys voice asked what the matter was. ‘Just something
of Grandad’s,’ He died two weeks earlier and Mum was reading from a book she
found in a box with a pair of boots. Many years later, clearing her house, I
found the same box and the same sheepskin lined boots and the book. It often left
me in tears. Grandad had been a Navigator in a Halifax bomber that was hit and
he bailed out into hell. Captured by the Germans he was taken to Stalag Luft IV
with its bastard guards. Early in 1945, with the Russians approaching, we were marched
500 miles in total, on empty stomachs and at a crippling pace. Dysentery was
rife but the survivors arrived at Stalag X1B close to Belsen at the end of
March. That was hell on earth. Grandfather was liberated on 17 April 1945. His
final entry said, ‘these RAF standard issue boots probably saved my life.’
Beryl: The Trouble With Scruff: A follow on to Beryl’s
earlier adventure story. Billy had a friend Josh whose sister Ella also came to
play. Ella took off all Humphrey’s clothes and put him in pyjamas. Humphrey was
an elephant. Josh had a dog, Scruff, who was very destructive if the children left
their toys on the floor. Poor Humphrey’s clothes were still on the sofa but his
shiny red Wellington boots were not. Scruff had one of them in his mouth and glared
at Humphrey when he commanded ‘Stop that!’ There was a squelchy scrunchy sound
as Humphrey realised Scruff was eating his boots. Thanks goodness he wasn’t
wearing them! Billy wrote to Father Christmas and a new pair of boots arrived
for Humphrey.
Dick: Who’s Boots: Roger Bryson, Emily and their
son Gary stood on the drive and admired the old Georgian Manor House once owned
by Squire Wensley Crowforth. Having researched him, Roger discovered he was a womaniser,
debaucher, wife beater, drunkard, gambler who probably murdered his wife. Having
taken a huge financial gamble, the Brysons planned to open an up-market B&B.
Structurally sound, the inside of the building needed a lot of attention. Roger and Gary checked the roof space and
discovered a pair of riding boots, the leather completely dried up. Linseed oil
would help make them pliable before they could be polished. Roger intended to
display them in a glass top cabinet to interest guests. He would caption them ‘that
they are widely considered to have belonged to the wicked Squire Crowforth.’
Jane: A Stride in the Right Direction: Every
lunch time Archie donned suitable attire and his walking boots. He’d taken up
walking after his wife died five years earlier, and enjoyed a brisk walk along
the seafront. Recently he bumped into Mary from Accounts who asked if she could
join him. He wanted to say no as he preferred the solitude but she walked with
him in companionable silence. After that Archie came across her regularly. Due
to retire, hs colleagues wanted ideas for a retirement present but he told them
to get anything. On the day there was no present, just cards. After staying
with his daughter he returned home, when Mary knocked on the door. She was
holding a black puppy. ‘Happy birthday Archie, this is Sam.’ Thrusting the lead
in his hand and an envelope of dog training vouchers he said he didn’t want the
commitment of a dog. Mary suggested meeting up in two weeks and now they meet
every lunchtime. Archie plans to buy her a pair of proper walking boots for her
forthcoming retirement.
Suzy: Handed In: After they’d taken our civvies
away they gave us khaki. It rubbed our skin raw. Alf found a note in the breast
pocket, ‘God bless and keep you safe. Doreen.’ Factory girl who must have
stitched his jacket. I kept Nancy’s photo in there. They gave us boots. I was
lucky, I was used to wearing boots so they didn’t blister my feet. I called them
Vic after my uncle, a saddler and cobbler. They drilled us Norfolks, gave us
rifles but I couldn’t imagine killing another man. The bastards flew over us,
bombed and machine-gunned innocent refugees. I would kill. Vic was there. Hell
is Stukas screaming down. Me and Vic marched 30 miles in a day and stayed with
me. Thanks God it ended. They gave us suits and shoes and ordered us to hand
back our kit and my boots. Nightmares of war return and Nancy whispers ‘It’s
over,’ but cannot understand why I whisper ‘Vic’.
Tony: Things That Are Done for Timothy Whiteboots: Outside snow
formed the white landscape which surprised Eimer who woke Sam. ‘Frozen rain,’
he said. ‘It will be gone by this afternoon.’ Eimer supposed that once Sam had
visited Emma Nate and recovered the next Tablet of Stummer Kake for Timothy
Whiteboots they could do as they wanted. Setting out Eimer nearly fell
backwards in the snow whilst Sam went one better and had to be helped back to
his foot. A child who witnessed it called out ‘The biggie nearly fell over.’ ‘It’s
a human darling, not a biggie.’ His mother replied. ‘It’s not wearing white boots
like us,’ the child continued. Sam fell over again, then Eimer took his arm and
they both fell over. Reaching Emma’s they saw the strange stone shield that she
explained as a prophecy: ‘You can take a horse to water but a pencil must be
lead....’
Tom: They Were Harry’s: Kate was determined to sort out
the rear garden but John had failed to step up to the mark. The kids needed
more space to play. They’d moved in nine months earlier, the previous owner, widowed
Mrs Phillips, having gone into sheltered accommodation. Kate tackled the
overgrown area then rested against the boundary wall. Further along which she
saw what looked like rubbish but discovered a small cross with a pair of old
Army boots standing in front of it. They had been used as plant holders.
Painted underneath was 1920-1955 but the name on the cross was unreadable. She
visited Mrs Phillips and mentioned the cross and boots. ‘They belonged to the
love of my life,’ she said. ‘They were Harry’s and his ashes are under the
cross.’ At home John recalled that Mrs Phillip’s husband was Peter who was named
on the documents when they purchased their house.
Hattie: Boots: What a story from Hattie at her first
attempt at Scribblers! Liam never understood which side he should be on but Da’
made it clear. Proud to be taken to those meetings though he didn’t like the
shouting, swearing and hate. Most anger was directed to Mr Patel at the corner
shop who often chatted with Liam about football. Ma banned him from going to
those meetings but Da’ whacked her. After a meeting Da’ rubbed his shaved head
and took him to the shop. Liam looked at his feet in those wonderful boots. He was
one of the men now. He joined the march wearing those boots. The men stopped at
the corner shop shouting and hollering. Someone threw a brick through the
window. Everyone jeered at Mr Patel who came running out. Those boots were
kicking Mr Patel now... they kept kicking and kicking and kicking.
Barry: The Grand Re-opening: The second chapter in Barry’s
murder mystery which he hopes to publish.
Mairéad: The Walton Weir: Brother Peter left the Abbey at
Walton and set off with others to the Fishing Weir at the back of the Abbey. Some
of the fish were for evening meal whilst others were sent to Rochester Abbey
with Peter responsible for the accounts. Walton Abbey was a cell, a small abbey
without an Abbot on site. Monks are sent there after transgressions. Peter had
kept a gold cross from his mother as a memento when he joined the monastery
which broke the law of poverty. It was discovered in an inspection and the
Prior punished me. Shamefully I stole it back and it was discovered again.
Rochester sent me here but the Abbot promised to return it to me someday. One
day the Prior wanted to see Peter and passed a box containing sturdy leather boots,
fine woollen undergarments and a little purse containing his mother’s cross.
Dave: Suspicious: I’d seen her looking at those
red boots in Ann Summer’s window and wondered why she was so interested in
them. Milly was out regularly on Monday and Thursday evenings and I was
suspicious of where she went and what she did. I found a bank statement and
checked her emails to find she had been buying kinky underwear and sexy
clothing. Was she having an affair? Was she leaving me? Then I discovered those
boots. In the morning Milly found me very upset and explained it was all very
innocent. Mondays they wrote a modern day version script of Moll Flanders and
Milly had the title role. On Thursdays they rehearsed.
Our next meeting will be
held on Tuesday 21sth October at 7.30pm in The Room at the Top, when
we will hold another creative writing session. Simply bring along four words
each written on a small and separate piece of paper.
Look
forward to seeing you so, until then...
Keep Scribbling!
