Online Shorelink Week Eight

As most of you know, I save your submissions as they come in during the week, and sit down to read them all before embarking on this blog. I have just read all seventeen pieces, and I have laughed a lot, admired a great deal, and been left with the definite feeling that Shorelink is even more collectively bonkers after eight weeks of lock-down than before. In the best possible way, of course! The given theme of We’ll meet again, which had a certain inevitability on this 75th anniversary of VE Day, proved to be inspirational in unexpected ways.

Now where to begin, having been somewhat overwhelmed with your inventiveness? There were definitely more poems than usual.  A profound musing on the infinity of love was very moving, as was the ode to the long awaited returning soldier father. We had a quite delightful ballad to young love, telling of both the yearning and the fulfilment.

This was counter-balanced with a shadowy, rather creepy rumination on the unstable nature of life. But I was cheered by the nicely prosaic recitation of a love lost but happily then substituted with another, and also the glorious play on words by the same writer beguiling us with a loose moose in the hoose. Which brings me to our long running moose story, of course, and this week saw the blossoming of romance between the two main characters, a respite from the warfare. But we were plunged back into violence by another piece was an essay in betrayed friendships and revenge, with only a tiny spark of hope illuminating it.

However, never let it be said we are not versatile in our group. The kebab shop owner was hilariously and horribly brought to life (whale meat again indeed!), and another was definitely Shorelink’s answer to 50 Shades of Grey – or perhaps, pink, in this case? A nostalgic ramble down memory lane ended with an unexpectedly surreal flourish, and then there was  that dubiously handsome Count hanging around a young lady in a casino. Possibly to be (gruesomely?) continued, this one?

There was a suspicious-looking preacher who led us, and his target, down an unexpected alleyway, and a totally off the wall sketch involving an unnamed royal (who just might have borne some slight resemblance to the heir to the throne), who runs over his mother’s corgi and then tries to get an illegally immigrated genii to resurrect it. I do hope I have done it justice!

One of our members could not disguise his irrepressible life-long optimism (we are definitely all doomed) and gave us an essay on how the Covid plague was all our own fault and would undoubtedly finish us off. Just to cheer us up, in this time of revelry, I guess! But, to prove that some of us are still cheerful , a charming story of a chance meeting of four young people on a train conjured up the courage and the hope of the war years. Much of which has been revived in this present crisis, I think. But then, like Anne Frank, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

And that feeling is emphasised and embellished for me every week as your incredible and often outlandish contributions come in. Keep them coming. Jacquie was going to do this week’s workshop (swapping with me) so I have asked her to choose next week’s theme, and she has suggested: I’ve seen some very strange things in the local woods.

I reckon that one should get you going! Sally

 

 

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