FELIXSTOWE SCRIBBLERS MEETING: TUESDAY 4th FEBRUARY 2014.
Apologies were received from Katy, Clive, Beryl, Carolyn and Suzy G.
In attendance: Tony, Les, Dick, Susie H, Liliane, Barry, Cathy, Jane, Richard, Caz and Dave.
The Apologies were all received in good time before the meeting. Katy’s grandmother has broken her hip and with her partner working she had no baby sitter to call on. Clive has just had a procedure to help him and may miss a few meetings. Beryl was caught up babysitting for her daughter’s children. Carolyn is between international trips whilst Suzy G has been suffering with dental problems and anti-biotics. We wish them all well and hope to see them back with us very soon.
Previous meeting’s work was returned to the authors which then begged a plea from Tony for work for the radio shows on both Felixstowe and Ipswich Community Radios. As an aside Tony becomes a DJ with Felixstowe on Friday morning.
For your information ICR broadcasts the Scribblers work on Tuesdays at 15.30 on 105.7FM and Felixstowe Radio Wednesdays at 21.00 on 107.5FM.
A questionnaire of sorts was handed out to look for support in forthcoming events,
The Felixstowe Book Festival 2014. We now have a slot for The Lost Sock which will be on Saturday 28th June between 5 and 7 pm. This will also incorporate a meet the Scribblers time when, it is hoped, we will have anthology and copies of the DVD available for sale and a few table top items of examples of our work. The entry fees were discussed and a decision taken which will be released later.
Holding the Fort. On the same day there this event takes place at Landguard Fort throughout the day on Saturday. It will feature writers and readings amongst a whole range of different events in a growing programme. 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. Anyone with tales or stories set in or around WW1 can have the opportunity to read them out on the day. If interested please let Dave know as soon as possible!
Ebooks: Just a reminder given that both Barry and our friend Ray, have eBooks available whilst Ally’s first novel, “Drift” can be read on the Swoon Reads website.
The 21st staging of The Bill Budner Trophy. The trophy was finally presented to Jane after the last meeting’s hiccup. Les did the honours whilst Jane, being the last name on the cup suggested she retain it forever! No chance! It will be passed to Bill’s widow Maureen who has kindly offered to buy a new trophy. Those present agreed it should be a cup of the same design and hopefully Maureen will be able to attend our next competition in May.
Talking of cups – now for the results of our homework assignment, “I won the cup”.
Caz: Jack Won the Cup: It was the day the school broke up for Easter Holidays. Caz was in a rush to meet Jack at the school gates. One or two children on their way home, called to her but Caz didn’t hear what they said. Instead she met Jack, huge smile on his face, ‘Mum guess what? I won the Courtesy Cup!’ The cup was almost too big for him to hold and Caz was bursting with pride for her son. Jack, as many Scribblers recall, was a very talented and creative young man, always smiling, always making sure he had his (Scribblers) homework to read out. Such a pleasant and courteous boy outside school he certainly deserved that cup.
Richard: I Won the Cup: ‘I won the cup...’ typical Dave, he won just about every competition but that junior tennis one was what I had wanted to win myself. If per chance Dave was losing in informal games he would declare best of three, best of five and so on until he won! At 14 I was comfortable not winning anything. Dave was always tops whilst I was always twelfth. Once he had an off day on the courts and at deuce he simply picked up the balls and walked off. A habitual winner who couldn’t bear defeat. As life progressed he went to University, then to Australia. Five years ago, retired, he lived in Bath but he was ill and couldn’t have visitors. Dave died and I was sad. Everything was a competition to him, well, old friend, you’re dead, I’m alive, I’ve won and there is no Best of Three.
Jane: The Parasite: I won the cup today but it was hard to celebrate. It should have been Harry on the podium holding the trophy aloft. He’s one of those people blessed, in class, in all the ball sports. I discovered running in the second year 10,000m my best distance. I felt the rush and surge of winning, of being the best. Then Harry joined me, gave up some of his other sports then began to outpace me. I felt disheartened but he insisted we run together. I took a year out from University but met up with him again. He was squeaky clean, no drinks or drugs. At the inter-varsity athletics they brought in drug testing. It was easy to spike his drink. He broke the record by 3 seconds before being disqualified, sent down his reputation ruined. My plan worked, I won the cup today but somehow don’t feel like celebrating.
Dick: I Won the Cup: Yes! I won the cup after four hard years of trying at Grafton Manor School for Boys. I’m Daniel, proud to see my name engraved on the cup for cross country running a sport I actually like. Running through long grass, cow pats, often drenched through and freezing cold is not everyone’s idea of a good time. I was pretty good at it, but always finished behind Harry Foster and George Radley despite my best efforts. Another friend suggested if I couldn’t win fairly then I’d have to cheat, but it was not my way. My athletics teacher explained to me how Foster and Radley always won. They conserved their energy until it mattered, He explained the tactics I should employ to defeat them, and by pacing myself, running slower at the start of the race I could beat them – and I did!
Liliane: The Wishing Cup: I won the cup playing tombola at a school fete to raise money for special projects. The four us 15 year olds, Sofia, Grace, Nona and me, Tara, went together. The cup was like a love goblet Grace suggested. Nona thought it could be a wishing cup and Sofia mocked, ‘If you rub it maybe a genie pops out and says, your wish is my command, oh mistress. I suggested we rub it, make a silent wish but keep our wish secret otherwise it won’t come true. Nona went first, rubbed it three times, closed her eyes and made her wish. Next was Grace who repeated the ritual followed by Sofia. Then it was my turn and I wished that Mum and Dad might get together again. At home I placed the cup on my bedside table. Mum and Dad did get back together but Dad got shot by a lunatic. I still have the cup but never made another wish on it. Once was enough!
Tony: The Things we do for Timothy Whiteboots: This is another of Tony’s wonderful stories, so hard to capture in a short précised form. ‘My name is Timothy Whiteboots,’ he told Sam. ‘I have a job for you to perform. A very simple job.’ Timothy les the way into the large back room and Sam moved towards a large cup standing on a pedestal in the centre of the room. ‘Careful!’ Timothy warned. ‘It would be a disaster if the Kattas Cup was damaged.’ Along the wall by Timothy was a shelf split into twelve section, seven of which were occupied by artefacts. Sam admired one of the jugs and could see the words Holy Grail’ upon the side. ‘I must warn you,’ said Timothy, ‘I believe The Holy Grail to be fake.’ Sure enough, on careful inspection, written on the underside were the words “Made in China” Upon the shelf, seven tablets of ‘Aqua Setzler’ also known as the ‘Tablets of Stummer Kake’. Reputedly a great writer and philosopher from a mythical place called Suffolk...
Dave: A Voice in Her Head: ‘I won the cup...’ Lynne heard the voice in her head. First she thought it was imagination, thought she was going crazy. Recently moved to the country cottage from London she found a job in the Farm Market shop. It was her Utopia – until that damned voice started. Her GP prescribed drugs but she tore up the prescription. When she next heard those words she screamed, ‘What bloody Cup?’ In a wine induced sleep Lynne dreamt of a silver cup. When an elderly lady came to collect some vegetables at work, they began chatting. Mrs Curtis once lived in Lynne’s cottage until her husband Clem died. He had been a bowls enthusiast and won the County Cup. ‘Never saw the going of it,’ she lady said. When Lynne heard those words in her head again and she called out ‘Is that you Clem Curtis?’ Upstairs a door slammed. Investigating, all the doors remained open. She remembered the loft and, for the first time, she climbed up, and discovered the cup in a box. After cleaning it, she saw Clem’s name engraved on it, then handed the cup to Mrs Curtis. For the final time Lynne heard those words, ‘I won the cup.’
Cathy: Making Things Right: ‘I won the cup,’ Harry muttered in his sleep. ‘Indeed you did.’ Arnold thought from the hospital chair staring at a faded photograph in his hand. Visiting time up Arnold’s daughter Julie saw offered him a lift home. ‘Who did you visit?’ she asked but he was alone with his memories. He was lost in thought. Julie pulled up and took him for a cuppa and a natter in a coffee shop where she asked to see the photo. Her Dad opened up, pointed to two faces, ‘Me and Harry. Ended up in the same POW camp and we looked out for each other. We were keen gardeners and we used to have competitions when anything was harvested. One bloke whittled a tiny cup out of a bit of wood. I always won it. But once I cheated. Harry was in sick bay and his produce was better than mine so I entered it as my own. Harry knew he should have won but never said a word. Today I put things right, I gave him the cup Julie. Put it in his hand. I think he knew my voice.’
Susie H: The Cup: Why do bras have cups? Such a strange word for an item of supporting underwear. What about knickers? Should they not have cup sizes to fit the assortments of shapes and sizes of buttock and, come to that, men’s underpants could follow the suit of cups theme, cups to cup the manjigglies? Bra designers liken designing a bra to building a bridge as similar forces are at work, including gravity and tangential, divergent forces created when a woman runs or turns her body. Then determining the size, measurements round the girth and protrusion, bend over and measure the hang to reveal the cup size from delicate AA through to E for enormous, F for Fake and H for Help, ‘I’ve fallen over and can’t get up!’ Perhaps the following would correspond better than A to G sizes, how about thimble, eggcup, teacup, goblet, chalice, Holy Grail, soup bowl, mixing bowl or bucket? Forget burning the bra, fill with compost, stuff with geraniums and hang the things either side of your front door! Stuff the bra!
Barry: Bad Hair Day: ‘I won the cup,’ our teacher said. ‘It’s your summer holiday assignment.’ My best friend Fifi elbowed me and said we could work together but Miss Knight continued, ‘NO combined stories. No plagiarism, no copying other people’s work and that includes using Google.’ The summer holidays flew by and Sundays became a pj day. On one of these days Aunty Hannah came round as I sat on the sofa watching TV and brushing my long black hair. When I don’t brush it I call it my Witch day. Hannah was a hairdresser who needed a model to enter a hair cutting competition and somehow I became her model. My Nanny bought me a very pretty dress and some high heeled shoes for the catwalk. I sat in the chair and when my hair was cut the judges walked round me before all the finalists and me lined up on stage. There was a long pause before Hannah was announced the winner of the cup. I wrote it up for school and Miss Knight thought it was so good she entered it in a competition and guess what? I won the cup!
Les: I Won the Cup: Our Les provided a poem entitled I won the Cup. It has long been an ambition to see my name on Bill Budner’s pot but can’t reach that noble position and that really hurts a lot. Ages spent at the keyboard, heart and soul in each bit, some beautiful pieces, some happy, some sad but why can’t the voters see the winners work is no better than me! At last it came true, my skill was noted and a publisher has come through to publish all my work, poems, short stories, the lot! There are plans to discuss many topics at interviews on TV and such, I’ll be feted and praised then retreat to my place in the tropics. It’s like a trip on a magical swing, yes, you’ve guessed, dreams are wonderful things!
Suzy G left some short pieces for us at the Library but with time at a premium we were unable to read these out.
Thanks to Caz for supplying the biscuits!
Our next meeting is on Tuesday 18th February here in The Room at The Top. There is a change to the advertised programme – instead of two members reading out extracts of longer work, it was decided everyone can bring in a piece of their own favourite work be it stories, poetry, fact or fiction. The choice is yours! The only stipulation is that the maximum word count remains at 1,000. The meeting will start promptly at 7.30pm.
Until then,
Keep Scribbling!
