Wednesday, 9 November 2011


Ian opened the meeting today with a thankyou to Jenny for co-ordinating Saturdays outing to Alcala del Jucar. I think that those who went on the trip thoroughly enjoyed it in spite of the shock to the systems with the reduced temperature. He then went on to canvass opinions as to whether we should continue with thhe blog in its current form as there seemed to be few comments posted and not many hits. Should we let individuals contribute their own works to illustrate what the writers circle is about? It was then proposed to continue in the same vein, as members who are not always present at the meetings can keep abreast of the matters raised, especially when they are not resident in Spain. Ian then rreminded those present that anyone can contribute to the blog, as posting details are available, in order to showcase their work.

We then discussed whether the group could absorb more members or whether membership should be restricted. Last week there were so many would be contributors that not everyone could read their pieces. It was agreed that we would leave well alone because the purpose is to encourage people to write and the weekly themes are only suggestions. We did however suggest the any critiques received should not involve justification by the author of a piece, involving lengthy discussions but the comments are made to assist and if the writer does not agree, that is their choice. .

Ian also called for quiet during readings and allow one voice at a time for the feedbacks. We know it makes sense.

Lisa then told the group thhat she had received an Email from an ex member, John Major, to say that he should have his book, A Recipe For Disaster go to press in America next year. We all agreed it woulld be well deserved as he had amused us with his extracts.

John M then gave us an update on the aftermath of his book being published. Apparently he referred to two ladies as Laurel annd Hardy because of their physiques, and he had recieved an Email from the Hardy, who had recognised herself in the book. Alls well that ends well though,she has a sense of humour

We then took the opportunity to welcome two potential new members,Darren who is new to writing fiction and Janet who has had some short stories published in magazines.She is keen on writing a biography of her mother but so far has had no success with agents

Avril began todays readings with a poem Silence, when following a brief encounter at her back gaate with a neighbour, she went indoors and wrote a piece about the silence of being alone after her husband left and she had put the children to bed. It was beautifully written and I'm sure struck a chord with some.

Jane gave us another instance of her memories of life in France. The piece was entitled A Night at the Opera and described travelling by coach and donkey to an amphitheatre in the mountains to see the locals rendition of The Magic Flute. It really must have been a wonderful experience, and typical of Jane's writing very evocative

Maureen read piece entitled Brainwaves which described how 'research' has found that the majority of our thoughts are about sex. (they obviously didn't ask me). She had been prompted to write following being on a trip with a guide who never stopped talking banal nonsense and she wondered when he had time to think of anything.

Brenda read the first chapter of Ivy' s journal to explain why she was against naming her character in the prologue to the book which she read two weeks ago. It tells the story of the adult Ivy looking back on her miserable time in the orphanage and the sadistic housemother, Miss Parker, who made her life hell. We agreed that taking the first chapter in conjunction with the prologue, it made sense.

Janet then read part of a story she has written about a disturbed person who,on discovering that there are traces of blood about his clothes and a book. realises that he has committed some horrific crime and rushes round his home closing curtains and trying to hide from the world. There was some discussion about the opening descibing schizophrenia as the first impression was that it was a thesis on the illness.

Darren closed the readings by beginning his story of a man surveying 7 small bodies on the kitchen floor, and wondering if he were turning into some sort of homicidal maniac. The brilliant twist came when he explained his method of attack----with a fly swat costing 1euro at the Chinese Bazaar. His description of the martial arts method was priceless.

As Jane attended her first Open Mike last night it has been requested that her poem be included in the blog.


Happiness is the sound of you voice . .
That lifts me when I come in the door.
That special smile that makes me rejoice
In our love, and makes me love you more.

It's the smell of a new born baby's skin,
The surprising strength of his tiny hand.
The soft nape of his neck and under his chin,
H is searching eyes when on you they land

It's the warm sand oozing between your toes
The spray of the surf pounding on a beach.
It's sitting down with a piece of prose,
That juicy moment you eat a peach.

It's the feel of a soft embracing hug.
Which says I understand you and care
A listening friend and a hot tea mug
When problems seem beyond repair.

It's the golden glow of a harvest moon
Shining bright in a clear starry sky
It's the lunchtime bell that rings at noon
It's the sight of a hovering hawk on high.

It's meeting with loved ones after a time
It's a tender message left on a phone
It's the cool fresh taste of a chilled white wine
Sipped with a lover, friends or alone.

It's the magical moment when seedlings grow
And you feel protective of fragile stems.
It's giving a gift to someone you know
Will treasure it as though it were gems.

It's the flesh of Reubens, light of Vermeer
The music of Mozart,Vivaldi or Bach.
It' s the books we read and hold so dear,
The singing of choirs or a soaring lark.

It can be seen shining so bright in our eyes.
It can make us jump for joy as a child.
It can make our feel-good factors rise,
It can even make our behaviour wild

Happiness is a state of mind
Idealy felt by all mankind.
It is a very fragile thing
But oh what feelings it does bring.

It comes not on a special date
It's best not searched for, learn to wait.
It will arriive, don't know when or where
But open your heart and feel it there.


Anne Grierson


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