Saturday, 17 October 2009
Do you ever say 'albeit' ?
The theme for this week was 'A Chance Encounter', which I think you could say is appropriate for the picture here.
But before I go on, a reminder to all TWC members that directly after the coming meeting on Wednesday 21 October, everyone is invited to Glyn´s place for a barbecue. If you don´t know where it is, but are coming to the meeting, you can follow those cars which are going. If you´re not going to the meeting, phone Glyn for directions. The invite is for drinks and grub and you don´t need to take anything unless you have ' special needs.'
Now, down to business. A pleasant, sunny day and a relaxed atmosphere gave a very nice meeting. As already mentioned the theme was 'A Chance Encounter'. Four members came up with something on this theme.
Mary Morris wrote a story about Land Girls in the Second World War on a day out at the village fete. A palm reading in the gipsy tent warns them all of a large, dark shape. It turns out to be a lorry driven by some army chaps, which knocks them off their bikes. However, it is an encounter which ends safely and has promise of future romance. It was a pleasant story but lacked conflict to give it a bit more spice, felt Nik. There was a need for more dialogue and perhaps even a change in the order of events. Some work on it, however, would probably make it acceptable to a magazine. Off you go, Mary!
Alan told the politically ironic story of a British Prime Minister faced with the prospect of a disaster when a meteorite is about to hit London. He is more concerned about the votes he might lose rather than anything else.
Well written and amusing, albeit cynical.
Nik complained of the use of albeit in somebody´s work as rather literary but look! It slipped out quite easily here, didn´t it?
Ann Flynn´s story was about two young people who meet at a hotel near the First World War battlefields and discover that their families have quite a bit in common. A very good story but the dialogue bogeyman surfaced again and it was thought that a lot of the back story would be better dealt with as dialogue between Danny and Sophie, the main characters. The story was, Ann said, true, but Nik emphasised that you´re allowed to bend the truth if it gives you a more effective story.
Jenny wrote a short poem describing a meeting, after many years, between two former friends in a doctor´s surgery, where the news is bad for one of them. Very effective in such a short piece.
The other members´pieces were a mixed bag of subjects.
Jen wrote a poem which was originally intended to be the lyrics to a piece of music 'Soleado' by Zacar. Unfortunately, Johnny Mathis beat her to it when he recorded the Christmas song ' When a Child is Born.' See the end of the blog for Jen´s version.
Chris wrote a piece about ways of saying things in different languages. It rambled a bit since it wasn´t, as she admitted really well thought out. However, the neat little Spanish phrase 'Ni fu, Ni fa' was brought to light, meaning 'So-So'.
Mary Kilduff´s contribution was a poem about members of the TWC. She picked out a few verses for inclusion in the blog. See the end of the blog.
Jane´s very short poem was about how she absent-mindedly managed to put cat food in her tea. ( We´ll have to keep an eye on her at Glyn´s barbecue - nail down the chilli sauce!!).
Glyn ended the readings with a rewrite he´d done of chapter 3 of his novel. He´d cut out about four hundred words and it was much tighter.
Here follow the poem´s above mentioned.
When spring awakes a new year is born;
When winter´s past, wanton and forlorn;
Through the mists of time, see new life appear;
Love blooms at last when the spring is here.
When love is young, shining like the sun;
When beauty reigns and true hearts are one;
When blossom sweet dances in the air,
And hands entwine, hopefull, free of care.
The year grows old, seasons come and go;
And summer fades into autumn´s glow;
Tho´beauty wanes, love will never die;
Sweet melodies soaring to the sky.
When apples ripe, juicy to the core,
With dew bedecked tumble to the floor;
A cup of cheer, fruit as sweet as wine;
Red skies on fire, nearing Harvest-time.
So summer´s gone, golden leaves are cast;
Then earth grows cold, slumbering at last;
Those autumn years, better than the best;
In wisdom grown, hearts and minds at rest.
Chris´s poems are a laugh a minute
This lady seems to have no limit
She really makes us split our sides
As some helpless male she oft derides.
Ann doesn´t have much time to kill
Between doing the drinks and minding the till
But if the occasion arose
She´d thrill us with her poetry and prose.
Cynthia as well is quite inspired
Of listening to her I´ve never tired
She says she was a court reporter
But I think she´s really Shakespeare´s daughter.
Joy writes mostly from true life
A mixture of happiness and strife
She writes about the things she knows
Like that school teacher with the snotty nose.
There´s nearly always a tale of woe
As Maureen takes us to and fro
From east to west from coast to coast
She tells us all what she misses most
She´ll just have to learn before she´s through
To say in every language 'Where´s the loo?'
Now when it comes to dear old Glyn
I just do not know where to begin
He´s a real master of the art
From the biggest tits to the loudest fart.
See you all next week.