Bridlington Library Writers Group

"New beginnings" in January

Sarah, January 9, 2012

January's task was to bring something you have written on the theme of ‘New Beginnings’ - this may take any form, including a poem, a non-fiction article or a short story. It was agreed that a maximum limit of 500 words would allow everyone to have the opportunity to share their work at the meeting. The theme can be interpreted in any way you like. Perhaps New Year Resolutions and your hopes, dreams and plans for 2012. Or do you want to write about a new relationship, a new job/redundancy or even a change in the way you or a character thinks about something? Perhaps someone is emigrating, buying a new home or starting a family. Whatever you decide to write about we look forward to hearing it.

Here are some of the pieces of writing produced by members of the group:-

By Ken Joul -  "A NEW YEAR; A NEW BEGINNING?"

The challenge for February's meeting

Sarah, January 9, 2012

Novembers Task

Sarah, December 17, 2011

This months task set our writers group the task of splitting into four groups and producing a 500 word piece on the theme of arriving in Bridlington.

Beachcombing

lpl, December 17, 2011

Beckie kicked the driftwood as tears rolled down her face.  It wasn’t fair!  Why did she have to be in Brid when all her friends were back home?
It was never like this on the beach in summer when Mum and Dad helped her build sandcastles.  Now even the gulls’ squawks sounded sad and the cold grey sea foamed angrily at her feet.

Granny had said Christmas would be great but how could it be when Mum was always crying and Dad wouldn’t be there.  Dad could have made something wonderful out of this piece of driftwood, like the cat he carved for her last year.  She longed to show him this new find.

Beckie stooped to pick up the driftwood.  Maybe one day she’d see Dad again.  She shivered as the wind whipped sand into her face.   
Hailstones pelted from dark clouds, forcing her hurry back to the house.

As she crept through the back door she heard Granny’s voice.  “We’ll have a great Christmas without him.”
“It’ll serve him right,” said Mum as she turned on the fairy lights.

Cradling her driftwood and in no mood to listen to another argument Beckie sought refuge in her bedroom. Dad’s voice echoed in her head, “I’m going, anyway!”  She’d never heard Dad shout before.  What had made him so angry?  Christmas wouldn’t feel right without him.  Was it her fault? 

Just as Gran called, “Tea’s ready,” the doorbell rang.   Beckie hid her treasured driftwood under the bed. 

She heard the door opening, was that Dad’s voice saying, “Where’s my favourite girl?”

By the time Beckie got down stairs Mum and Dad were hugging.

“The business trip was cancelled,” Dad said.  “There was a baggage strike at the airport.”

Beckie giggled as Dad swung her round and planted a kiss on her cheek.  Her Christmas wish granted, Beckie ran back upstairs to collect her driftwood. 

“I’ve got the perfect present for you, Dad.  This piece already looks like a cat.”

A Birds Eye View

lpl, December 17, 2011

Phew – squawk! 
Where am I?  This has been a long flap. 

What’s this BBB fish, on a pole above the harbour? 
How come I’m still moving when I’ve stopped?  Round and round. 
Ouch squawk!  This fish definitely isn’t a fish.

Where am I? This ain’t Timbuktoo.
White cliffs, yellow sands, blue sea and a big orange dome.
Bobbing flags fluttering below.
Man-boys falling dead like stones into the basin of swirling water.

What are those golden oblongs those white wingy guys are swooping at? 
Looks as if they’re eating them.  Gonna get me some.
Yaaay slurp squawk!  Dee-licious. They hit the spot!  Salty, soggy, squashy.
‘Oi, that bloody bird’s nabbed me chips!’
Chill man, there’s enough for everybody!

Aa-ha squawk!  What’s over there?  Let’s go flap-about.
That stuff down there is nearly as bright as me. 
Music but no-one dancing.  Pink clouds on sticks.
Screeching squealing, swerving, mad drivers, sparks sparking.  Don’t like this noise.
Head for the sand it reminds me of home.
Landing on a flat camel – Turpin on its headband. 
‘Gerr’off.  No free rides!’
Sob squawk! I was enjoying that.

Wow squawk! What’s that big yellow bird?  
Dropping rope, whippy waves, whirry wind.  Catching a man-fish on a wire.
Not eating him.  Flopping him into an orange floaty-ma-jig.

Hey squawk! Slimy, stringy, sea-borne strands.  Smelleeee!  Slippy-slidy walk.  Whoops!
Lots of smooth sleeping white egg-shapes soaking up the sun.
Shitty four-legs ploppy–dropping on the sand.
White box snake, toot-toot tootling along.  Waving hands by the waves.

Clever squawk!  Big white sides to keep the water from running out. 
I like it here.
Luv squawk!  

Arriving in Bridlington

lpl, December 17, 2011

It was a sunny and blustery day when I first came to Bridlington.  Arriving from the Scarborough road, you are immediately in the heart of Burlington; now the old town of Bridlington but once the most important of two settlements, and very distinct from the Quay.

Firstly, I drove through the Market Place, long since deserted by traders but formerly the home of a thriving market and corn exchange.

I visited the historic High Street, and it’s collection of appealing shops selling antiques and vintage collectables.  I had a coffee and meal in a very interesting curio shop, and noted the number of eighteenth and nineteenth century pubs for future reference.

Approaching from the High Street, I saw a huge church with two towers in front of me, and I thought that I would pay a visit and so I parked the car nearby.  I went through an archway called the Bayle which I later learned housed a museum and had housed prisoners of war during the Napoleonic Wars. 

Arriving at the Priory Church, I pushed the small entrance door for visitors and was faced with a wide area in front of which was a sea of pews leading to the transept and through that to long choir stalls fronted by a Rector and Curate stall and, behind the choir, and enormous organ.  Beyond the Choir was the altar-rail with steps up to the altar on which was a cross with a fish in its centre.  The variety of colours in the stained glass east window was multifarious.  I turned and faced west to see an equally enormous multi-coloured west window. 

I followed the historic St John Street, named after a local holy-man Saint John de Thwing, and went along Quay Road into the town.  Everything the town centre has to offer can be achieved within walking distance: the Promenade shopping centre, fish and chip shops, gift shops and pubs.

Bridlington is blessed with two beaches.  A pebbled north beach sits alongside Flamborough cliffs, and a beautiful stretch of golden sand generously takes up the south side.  Amusement arcades and The Spa Theatre respectively entertain both ends of the town’s cost and the North Sea bathes those areas, where children joyously make sandcastles, adults soak up the sun and where locals and tourists alike take advantage of a spot so simple that makes them smile.

Another day I would consider taking a trip on a boat out into the Bay; perhaps a speed boat or a more leisurely cruise along the coastline to see the huge number of nesting birds at Bempton bird sanctuary.

The town is on the edge of the beautiful Yorkshire Wolds and is just six miles away from Burton Agnes with its lovely old Saint Martins Church, and Burton Agnes Hall.  This beautiful Elizabethan Manor House is open to visitors during the tourist season, but is, in part, still a private house.  The remains of the old Norman manor house still sit alongside the main house.

The Big Change

lpl, December 17, 2011

At a time when most people are thinking about relaxing in later life, we decided that it was our time to have an adventure by not only moving house but location as well.   Our grown up children lived very close to us and were horrified that grandma and granddad would no longer be available at the drop of a hat.

Where to go?  That was the question.  Should it be overseas or remain in the UK? A visit to Bridlington for a day out surprised us both.  After leaving our cases at the Hotel a short walk led us to the marvellous vista of the South beach and the wonders of the Spa.

The attraction was instant and we both knew this was the place for us.  Three months later the removal van arrived at our new house on the North side with forty plus years of our life stored in packing cases awaiting our new adventure.

We were still living out of those boxes for a couple of months as we created the house of our dreams from a building that had been unloved.  It took that long as we were out every day exploring what was on offer.
 
The pace of life was the first noticeable difference as coming from a city the compactness of the Town Centre came as a welcome change.  Although much of our former home had come with us, it was obvious that we needed new things to complete the picture.

It was a new experience not having to use the car to go everywhere.  It was as easy to walk to either the south side or Old Town and even along the cliff top to Sewerby Park.

Now that we were retired, we were determined not to live in each other’s pockets and, after raising a family, felt it was time for each of us to follow our individual interests.

I found myself looking for something to fill out the time and found that I could follow an unfulfilled dream, to write a book and eventually completed one.

Whilst I was doing this my wife had to find something to occupy herself, other than becoming a tele addict and that is when she found that she had a hidden talent and pursued a number of art courses until finding ones that suited.

As a consequence of following our individual dreams, my wife has now had an exhibition of her work at Gallery@ the Spa, with reasonable sales resulting and my book was eventually published at the third attempt.

In addition to our pensions we both now have separate additional incomes which allows us to go cruising to faraway places of which we had no idea existed.  If things continue as they are we will be able to afford the World Cruise.

We never thought that moving to a quiet East Coast Town would hold so many possibilities of things to do.  Whoever would have thought that retirement could be so fulfilling.