Online Shorelink Week 2

I confess that when I realized the subject for this reading week was The Stolen Corpse I was a bit thrown. It seemed all too apt for a world in grip of plague. But I do the programme many months ahead, of course, and whoever supplied the theme had no idea how much the world was about to be transformed. So to change or not to change was the question (sorry, bard) and on reflection I decided that Shorelinkers were a hardy lot and would deal with it, as with the virus, in their usual inimitable way. And, my goodness, you have proved me right.

We kicked off with the theft of a 95 year old man’s corpse from a funeral parlour which turned into a clever and funny pastiche on the art world. Who would have guessed this man was literally a walking Picasso? Well, only the body snatchers. And they did return the corpse, almost intact. The next stolen corpse sat next to a lady who was searching for her lost dog and was being helped by a kind stranger. Both she and we were relieved when it actually did turn out to be a kind stranger!

In fact, nearly everyone wrote on the theme. There was a fascinating true story of the grave robbers who tried to blackmail Charlie Chaplin’s widow – I vaguely remembered that; truth really can be stranger than fiction. And a wonderfully gruesome take on cannibalism from our most consistently blood-thirsty writer! This was followed by a missing corpse in a gloriously surrealistic tale –as the writer said, what do you make of that?!

There had to be an apocalyptic one, of course, and this had everything – fire, floods, pestilence and damnation but not a nun in sight (you have to be a Shorelinker to get that!) Bob’s Your Uncle apparently actually was someone’s uncle though not yet a corpse. Some of us reflected on the wildlife, a sympathetic one of a scavenging fox, an affectionate take on a marauding cat, and a play on the similarity of the words corpse and crops all added to the mix. A witty poem mused on the Frankenstein story and we were treated to some more mysterious magic in another chapter of the moose saga.

But there was some serious stuff as well. A splendid poem on the famous WW1 Christmas truce, and an extremely moving one in memoriam of the writer’s dad.  I thought one poem, was so relevant it seemed a pity not to share it on our web site so I have added it to the bottom of this blog, with thanks to Kate.

Once again, well done everyone. It will be lovely when we can all meet again, but I feel close to you all when I read your pieces. Next week’s theme (and they are always optional, of course) is Once I was 7 years old…It was to have been our Westfield week and the 500 word challenge, and I think we should try to stick to at least the 500 word challenge.

So- keep them coming! My love to you all. Sally

Kate’s poem below:

Britain’s fast becoming a nation

Of social distancing and isolation.

It goes against our natural grain

And puts us under quite a strain.

 

No cosy chats over cups of tea –

Cafes are closed and so are we –

Compelled to stay at home, we must

Be dutiful and place our trust

 

In health advisors, government chaps

And in police, for should we lapse

And venture out into the street

They’ll fine us heavily, tout de suite!

 

But wait! That may not be so bad,

Let’s not be absolutely sad,

For now we have the perfect chance

To learn a language, paint or dance –

 

Everything’s online out there,

So now we have long hours to spare

The world’s our oyster, it must be said

We might even learn to bake our own bread!

 

We might consider doing more

To help our neighbours, folk next door.

We’ll help preserve immunity

By helping the community.

 

If we have to stay at home

We can at least contact by phone

Those who are in isolation,

We could be their consolation.

 

It may well be when all is through

That planet earth begins anew.

With eyes wide open we may see

The world return to sanity

 

A world restored to life and health,

Where people matter  more than wealth.

And things that once we valued so

Like trips to sunny Mexico,

 

Foods flown half-way round the planet

To feed the greed of the human gannet

May soon be replaced with local fare

And there will be enough to share.

 

We can and must rescue this earth-

Our home – and recognize its worth.

Corona is a wake- up call

And should be heeded by us all.

 

Let’s stop the use of oil and gas

While we still can – if not, alas!

There’ll be no seasons, no night or day

Only famine, disease and decay.

Online Shorelink

As we are unable to hold physical meetings at the moment, Shorelinkers made the decision to continue our group activities online until the corona-virus is finally defeated. For this inaugural week, our theme was Guess who’s coming to dinner, though as always following the theme was optional. The contributions have been coming in thick and fast, and I have laughed and cried and been delighted with the sheer quality of the writing.

How to sum it up? Well, with great difficulty, but I shall do my best. Here goes.

Inevitably, several of the stories contained culinary references, some more bizarre than others. And there HAD to be a reference to a soggy bottom, didn‘t there? I would certainly have been disappointed otherwise but thankfully Mary Berry was only mentioned as an undesirable guest! The dinner parties described largely regarded the food as an afterthought, as you would expect, the guests were the core of the stories.

There was a heart breaking story of a family meal where a mother saw the ghost of her much loved and .long dead daughter, and a poem where the angry young son of a widowed mother tells us just how he feels about his mother’s suitor. And an unexpectedly poignant one about an aging hippy and his dog preparing for their last meal together. And, talking of last meals, there was of course, as a reflection of these strange times, a reprise of the biblical last supper. This one took place on Hastings Pier and for the assorted guests the end was definitely nigh.

This unexpected reading week replaced Mandy’s workshop which had been based on inspiring us through fairy tales, and that definitely resonated through a lot of the stories here, so your work was not totally wasted, Mandy. There was a very bloody take on Red Riding Hood, a foray into a heavily disguised but doomed Babes in the Wood, and even a party with some drunken mice! Makes you wonder a bit about our culture, doesn’t it?

There was a splendid sci fi skit on robotics, a hilarious poem about stock piling loo rolls, and a piece comparing the lack of manners by birds at the feeding tables with the current scrimmage in the supermarkets – funny but sadly all too true.

Dinner party guests included the Pope and Donald Trump – regretfully not together. Though there’s a scenario to think about! And a delightful satire on the misunderstandings caused by not letting someone finish their sentence.

Not everyone wrote on theme, the moose story revealed an unexpected expertise in boxing strategy, and there was a lovely philosophical poem. And another splendid poem on the story of Ambrogio and Siliene –if mythology is not your bag, google them!

I can only thank you all for your wonderful creativity, and for your determination not to be beaten. Onward and upwards, next week’s theme, as on the programme, is The Stolen Corpse. Agatha Christie, eat your heart out?!

Looking forward to reading them all. Sally xxxxx

 

 

Brian’s Workshop

Brian began by distributing a picture of a bridal couple, probably from the 50’s, which showed the groom holding the hand of a small child. He then gave us ten first lines from various young poets, and asked us to use one or more of these to prompt our creativity. With twenty minutes to write in, it was, as he meant it to be, challenging.

We began with a woodland tryst involving almost every animal that ever walked our woods and a few more beside and  it was an amusing and picturesque start. Then for something completely different, a poem on the nature of how we view our own image. Called The Mirror it was unsettling but deeply lyrical.

This was followed by a delightful essay consisting of a child’s memory of sitting on her father’s shoulders. The detailed description of the clothes he was wearing and the feeling of security he engendered in his daughter was poignant and endearing. To stop us becoming sentimental we were then treated to a portrait of the child in the wedding photo as a successful serial killer, having already seen off the first two wives she was already musing on despatching this third one. Great stuff – I had another peek at the picture and thought I could see a demonic gleam in the bridesmaid’s eye!

The next one suffered from being cut off as the author ran out of time (Brian was very fierce at ordering us to stop – none of this writing on through the break for him!) so we never did find out what happened to the family in the Morris Minor. So, onward and upward to a scary tale of aliens kidnapping humans and a race of half human half robots becoming a deadly combination after some creepy machinations.

There were more, of course. Memorably, the one involving a sort of Fifty Shades of Grey  scenario and a samurai sword – we are never boring at Shorelink. But we touched on ghosts, house moving, the origin of the Windsor Knot (look it up if you are that young!) and more memories, imagined or otherwise.

Thank you, Brian, that was a good evening. Next week, still at Tesco for a reading week the optional theme The Importance of Obedience.

See you there. Sally

Jenny’s Workshop

Jenny’s workshop was intriguingly entitled What really happened next? and was both challenging and great fun. She gave us some first lines from popular nursery rhymes and then asked us to choose one and rethink its usual story line. The titles ran from Old King Cole to Little Bo Peep, with Georgie Porgie and Pussy cat, Pussy cat and many others  stimulating our creative juices.

We kicked off with gusto as little green men with ray guns landed on planet earth, and imprisoned the population. We left them desperately hoping for the appearance of an empowered resistance. Jack and Jill came next and this was a lighter tale involving boy scouts and toasted marshmallows, really Enid Blyton stuff. Then came a wonderful but heart breaking piece on loss and redemption   However, in true Shorelink fashion, the atmosphere conjured by this was resoundingly cancelled out when followed by a gruesome tale involving an overactive cat and many dead mice.

Moving swiftly on, we had an unlikely romance involving a fly fisherman and an elderly female. I would like to say this was charming but parts of it made my toes curl in a not good way! Then another fly story, which managed to be both more existential and even more revolting simultaneously.

Actually, it was quite an evening for exploring the more repellent side of human nature, though fortunately in an amusing and certainly highly original way. As always, I have skimmed over the evening’s contributions as there were far too many to detail. Armageddon, worms from outer space, a daring car chase, an MI5 agent, all these figured and more. And we finished in spectacular fashion with creepy drama involving the disappearance of Jack and Jill from the top of that hill…

Thank you, Jenny, a great workshop. And thank you everyone for your usual innovative input.

We are at Westfield next week for a reading week, the optional theme In the darkness

Looking forward to some spine chilling stuff, I reckon.

Sally

Ro’s Workshop

I think it would be fair to say that everyone looks forward to Ro’s workshops. He regularly manages a combination of quirkiness and simplicity that motivates us to produce good work, and last night was no exception. The premise was one word: Ghosts, ie write a ghost story, true or false, funny or sad, creepy or reassuring. And so, enthusiastically, we did.

We began with a true story. OK, it was mine, and I swear it really was true, of a haunting seen through the eyes of a child as a seemingly normal happening over a period of years. This was followed by a somewhat surreal one full of poetic nods (ghost and roast, for instance!), mysteriously changing shapes under bed clothes, clanging bed springs and failed torch batteries.

Then a more serious attempt. Remember those ceramic poppies round the Tower of London in 2014? And the rumour that they threw up shadows of the fallen soldiers they were representing on the walls of the tower? Well, this tale transferred those mysterious shades on to a family photo of long fallen warriors. It was quite a shock to find out that it hadn’t actually happened!

Then there was clever exploration of the nature of ghostliness and a fascinating  comparison with  ghost prints, this made by an artist, also a tale of ghostly love, lost and found, and another involving a church haunting and exorcism. Inventiveness erupted round the table, poems and prose, fables and fripperies, all vastly entertaining. And I must mention the wonderful duologue between Alf and Doris, life time socialists, horrified to hear news of a friend. What had she done ? ‘ Goes Tory’, exclaims Doris. Don’t get it? Come on, concentrate! I look forward to hearing more from Alf and Doris.

Big thanks to Ro, and to you all, what a fun evening again.

Next Monday Tesco again, a reading week, Optional theme The Bubble(s).

See you there. Sally

John’s Workshop

For the first time ever, due to so much illness in the group, we had to cancel our inaugural meeting this term. Happily, we are almost all restored to health and hopefully it is now back to business as usual. So John’s workshop was our first of 2020, and a thoroughly workmanlike and thoughtful job it was, too.

He had prepared numerous slips of paper, all with four different sentences or ideas on them. These were passed around the table and we picked the one that appealed to us most to write about. The subjects ranged from obdurate photo copiers to marauding vampires so it would be fair to say that there was something for everyone, I reckon. Heads down for twenty minutes while imaginations run riot.

John kicked off the read back with his own take on a miniaturised world, very small people and very large disasters were involved. It was followed by a wedding tale with unexpected guests, and soon after was a delightful pastiche on the world of fairy tales and nursery rhymes. Then came a robust one on the housing situation in Battle and the difficulties suffered as the town is overrun with vampires, to the consternation of the writer. But he was somewhat compensated by being married to Esmeralda, an especially exotic vampire.

Another writer arrived home to find his house in darkness and ransacked by burglars. Except it wasn’t. He had mistakenly entered the house next door. The return of Robert the rat, who has appeared at Shorelink before, saw him still pleading his unlikely innocence from his prison cell, and the story involving a very large lady army driver of a mini caused some definitely politically incorrect giggles.

The narratives came thick and fast – a paean of praise for the The Great British Bake Off, oh, the themes were many and varied as John intended . Dragons, internet click-bait, aliens and yes, at least a couple more vampires.

Thank you to John for all the work you put in and to everyone for making it all so entertaining. It is good to be back. Next week is a reading week and the optional theme is Awestruck.

Should be fun! See you there. Sally.

 

Our Christmas Party!

Once again, we celebrated Christmas with a splendid meal at the New Inn in Westfield. It is always a rather special Christmas treat, as not only do they decorate the room so beautifully, (crackers and all!) but the whole of Westfield is ablaze with all manner of festive lights, to say nothing of reindeers, snowmen, singing Santa’s and just about everything you can think of appertaining to the festive season. Even Scrooge would be hard put to remain unmoved!

It was a joyful evening, great food, much laughter and chat, and we marked Daniel’s upcoming anniversary with a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday! It was also an evening of surprises as Stephen and Jenny were taken aback to be presented with floral tributes as a token of our thanks for all their work in organising our celebrations, and I was floored but delighted to receive a wonderful bouquet of flowers.

So once more, thank you all for being there, and contributing so much to Shorelink throughout the year. I firmly believe our group is very special, and you all are the people that make it so.

Happy Christmas to you all, and here’s to a creative New Year. As a certain young gentleman once said: God bless us, everyone!

See you all back at Tesco on January 6th, when it will be Ro’s workshop.     Sally

Helen’s Workshop

You definitely need something entertaining as a reward for braving these cold dark evenings, and Helen’s workshop fitted the bill, inspiring some engaging stories. She asked us to imagine ourselves in a café, where someone was sitting alone at a corner table, engrossed in some kind of work or activity. Then you notice they have left, but something of theirs remains behind. It is up to you, the writer, to decide what it is, and also why you pick it up and rush after them – only to find, of course, that they have disappeared.

It was a tantalising scenario and we had fun with it. The first two stories had coincidentally decided that the discarded object was a dog. But the resemblance ended there – one was a cute pup looking for an owner, the other a large and deceased dog in a carrier bag. Moving swiftly on, several stories decided the item was a bomb including one very amusing one where the heroine rushed to drown the explosive item in the sea where it can do no harm, only to discover too late that it was a fake.

There was a memorable tale of a mermaid who was phobic about sea shanties and a delightfully witty piece that managed to pun on several members’ names. The objects found ranged from lottery tickets to a radio transmitter discovered in a loft revealing that long ago tenants had been German spies in WW2.  Then there was the bag full of forged £50 notes, and a, definitely politically incorrect but very funny skit, about the televising of a suicide. There were more. Somehow Bambi starred in one, and a holy man called Obadiah Rasputin in another, and we finished with a quite creepy doppelganger.

That’s a taste of a typically bonkers but creatively satisfying Shorelink evening, I reckon. Thank you, Helen, and well done.

Next week is our last meeting at Tesco until the New Year. A reading week, the optional theme is They lived in an allotment shed. And the week after will be our Christmas party.

See you at them both! Sally

Alvin’s Workshop

Have you ever received an invitation that you absolutely did not want to accept, but weren’t quite sure how to refuse without seeming ungrateful? Well, who hasn’t? (Rhetorical, no answer required!)  That was the basis of Alvin’s workshop. And he wanted our refusal to conjure up all sorts of senses and emotions, especially mentioning smells, whether revolting or pleasantly evocative.  Anyone who reads this blog regularly will guess which of those options most of the group plumped for with their usual relish.

We began with a bevy of gangsters promoting an eternal youth potion permeated with peppermint, and this quickly evolved into a horror story. Needless to say neither the potion nor the antidote worked and before long witches were rampaging through the land. To keep our spirits up (unintentional pun there) that was followed by a ghastly ghost story featuring  buckets of  blood, death and  disaster.

The events to be avoided were uniformly colourful, and many of the excuses involved animals, woolly sheep, magpies, platypus, alligators and aardvarks (of course!).  A majority were located in the countryside though there was a very creepy one set in a tunnel   And the smells described ranged from river mud to Gorgonzola and all stages in between,

A couple of hilarious horror stories were offset by an ode to Glasgow, and a delightful insight into how our creations can become an essential part of ourselves. And perhaps most memorably, a lovely poem on the importance of not undervaluing oneself.

Once again, thank you to everyone, and most especially Alvin for a thoughtful  and productive workshop.  We are at Westfield next week, optional theme He can’t even boil an egg.

See you there. Sally

 

Stephen’s Workshop

Stephen presented us with a list of over thirty place names, almost all of which were amusingly unbelievable  I mean: Deadman’s Bottom, Dicks Mount, Fanny Barks, and Droop, to name four at random, who knew? Rhetorical question – obviously the people who live there, but not most of us.

So, said our task master, absorb, be stimulated and write. He was obviously taking no prisoners so we obediently picked up our pens. Then, I must admit, most of us spent some moments cogitating, but finally the familiar scratching of ball points and the clicking of keyboards was heard..

We began with a slightly melancholy but lyrical tale of a couple coming to terms with grief for the loss of a baby. Their sojourn in a country hotel, the Rest and be Thankful (yes, a bona fide place!) eventually helping them to bond and begin to recover was a riveting piece.  This was followed by a tragicomic one featuring Donkey Town, and another tracing the reason why a town might have changed its name from Chemical after a gas explosion, to Marsh Gibbon– or was it Crapstone?!

Yes, before you ask, all the italics here are real place names, no kidding!

We had a delightful duologue with a passerby asking for directions while tracking relations, and as another that involved a complicated journey. I lost count of the many places mentioned in these. Another tale was a eerie fantasy involving some very scary animals (16 legs, 10 tails etc!) at Horrid Hill. A black comedy took place at Rotten End where two victims of the local Lothario combined to lure him to a sticky end.  A house move to Nasty, was followed by a hilarious sketch where a gang of criminals planning a heist all bore the names of places such as Catbrain and Fattihead,

There was a thought provoking piece on the plight of Tibet, inspired by Broken Wind, and a couple of wonderfully Gothic tales involving fog and monsters and ghosts and witches and scarecrows, and we finished with Stephen’s own creepy autobiographical account of journeying  through  a dark tunnel aged just 13!

As always, I can never do justice in this brief blog to the inventiveness of the writers, but thanks to you all and especially to Stephen. At Tesco again next week, and the optional theme is When you have a caravan you have a life.

I wait to be convinced– but am sure I’ll be entertained!

See you there. Sally