Thursday, 23 February 2012


22nd February.
There was a good turnout, we get bigger every week. 
Heinke asked people to support the Vivace concert at the Teatro Circo on 17 March at Orihuela, when they will be performing Carmina Burana, tickets are 5 Euros. The town hall in Orihuela Costa is running a bus to the concert.

The theme this week was Spring Flowers
Margaret’s story was entitled Death by Blossom. Gwen resided in Spain but lived life as if she was still in the UK, as was reflected by her office type clothing.  She decided to take her dogs Duke and Duchess out for a walk in the citrus orchards. She inhaled the scent of the blossom and felt intoxicated.  The lightheadedness made her veer off the road into a ditch and the dogs ran off.  ‘The scent of blossom was heavy in the air.’
Comments: Very good characterization.

Geoff’s tale was about Mr Wordforit, who had the most extensive collection of collective nouns in the UK.  His story contained a proliferation of collective nouns, some of them unknown to me, like
Ÿ  a bouquet of pheasants
Ÿ  A clique of photographers
Ÿ  A scoop of journalists
Ÿ  A flash of paparazzi
In the end Mr Wordforit was overwhelmed by an avalanche of collective nouns, which wasn’t a barrel of laughs for the rescue team, so he decided to concentrate on verbs. As usual extremely amusing. 

Alan wrote a piece of tongue in the cheek journalism about a local function he had recently attended. The meal was late, they didn’t win any raffle prizes, they were entertained by a songstress who had to pitch her voice up to compete with the chattering hordes at the tables, but apart from that it was a good event. Rupert Murdoch is setting up another newspaper Alan, any good at hacking?

Gerry gave us the start of something he is working on. ’No-one had seen the Mustang pull into the 24 hour parking block.’  There was a sickly smell coming from the car; a logo indicated it came from the Lone Star State of Texas.  It had been there quite a long time before the attendant forced open the boot to find a headless body, then the detectives arrived to investigate.
Comments:  ‘A fist of foul air’ was very descriptive.  We guessed too early that there was a body inside the car so the impact was lost when the boot was opened.  It took too many words to set the story up.  Gerry appreciated the comments, which will help him to refine and continue the story.

Brenda had written on the theme of Spring Flowers. Mother Nature is working her magic creating the beauty of a bluebell wood. The narrator, who thought her name might have been Margaret, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Picking bluebells aged 14 years she had been disturbed by a man with blood on his hands.  To stop her telling anyone about his poaching he had buried her alive, but she is not lonely, she can feel the earthworms and hear the beetles, she knows it is spring because of the bluebells swaying in the breeze and she is happy in her magic wood. 
Comments:  Brenda painted a brilliant picture of the scenery and the wild life. It was questioned whether she would know her name or not but as she is now just a body she is a nonentity without name. It was reminiscent of the start of Lovely Bones and we all wanted to hear more. Brenda apologized that she cannot write about nice events!

John went back into history to the time of the mods and rockers.  He was a mod and he had a Lambretta called Bubbles. He overtook a car as he was late for college. Bubbles fell on her side and he ended up in the gutter.  The police arrived and he was fined £10 and received 2 points on his license for driving without due care and attention. Being the suave mod that he was, he was too cool to wear his crash helmet; it was a fashion item dangling from the luggage rack most of the time. He told us about Slab Square in front of the council building in Nottingham which had stone lions in front.  Apparently the lions would roar if a virgin went past. ‘A quiet place Slab Square!’  He gave some old man in a car a V sign who turned out to be his father, not a good idea.  He somehow survived and still has an old Vespa called Bubbles 11. You seem to have had a few contretemps with the police John! Very amusing as always and evocative of that age, which seems like only yesterday to me!

Betty had written on the theme of spring flowers. A mother looked at her daughter with pride, her eyes brimming with tears. In the physio room the girl made her first step forward. She was determined to walk unaided at her marriage in 8 weeks’ time.  It had been a great shock to her mother to learn that her daughter had lost her legs in a train accident which had changed their lives. She brought the wedding dress to the hospital for her daughter to try on.  The dress went down to the floor and covered her new artificial legs.  She punched the air.  ‘With a bouquet of spring flowers it will be my perfect day.’  A lovely tale of triumph over adversity, very nicely written.

Heinke – this psychedelic story is about people who live in bubbles in the sky (I think!?).  Polystyrene and Polyester share a room. They didn’t know whether to have the stem cell soup or the collagen stew. Everything was made from animal or human extract.  The inspector came to inspect and was told to feck off.  The people on the ground are trying to hit the bubbles with stones.  Heinke really believes in the world she writes about, which is a bit worrying!  Innovative and amusing. 

Avril also wrote about spring flowers. She managed to name every spring flower known to man.  We could visualise the scene of the bluebell woods unfolding before us and it made us pine for life in England when spring arrives (but not for long). Very evocative.

Maureen gave us an interesting report of a trip to Poland.  She was dressed up like the Michelin man in sub zero temperatures.  The buildings were charming; it felt like a set from the film The Third Man.  There were medieval markets and quaint churches.  They visited a museum showing the Nazi atrocities.  The river contained thousands of ashes of victims.  They visited an Irish bar at night (as you do).  The next day they visited Auschwitz. ‘The air was like razor blades’ it was so cold.  They visited the salt mines which included a church and a sea. 
Comments: The piece was very atmospheric, the group wanted more description about the salt mine.

Ann also wrote about spring flowers.  It had been the coldest winter on record.  They had decided to leave their stressful lives and move to the country.  They bought a disused property in Galloway which was 5 miles from the nearest village and renovated it.  It was too good to last.  Ann’s cancer had returned and was inoperable.  She passed away and he retreated into his shell. He took a walk to the village, stopped by a tree and could see yellow heads of daffodils pushing through the piles of leaves.  He began to cry, ‘Ann would have said that life goes on, pull yourself together, you have to live for Ann.’ Very touching.  As Mary said, ‘I never thought that spring flowers could bring so much misery.’

Thank goodness Jane had a happy poem about spring flowers.  Lines included: I know a place where bluebells grow, I know a place where violets hide, I know a place where primroses peep.  In my heart they will dwell.’  Beautifully told.

Jenny’s poem was very short but to the point about almond blossom and broom in the April sun.

Alan updated us about Spike.  I was getting a bit worried about him.  Spike told us about Christmas and New Year in his household.  He now has a friend Kitty who lives with him.  Spike behaved himself and didn’t cock his leg at the Christmas tree.  He nipped out to see Fifi, the French poodle.  (No doubt we shall hear more about her, the hussy).  He and Kitty felt like plonkers in their sweaters and boots.  Comical as always.

Next week it is hot pen.  Bring a photo or a card or an object with you.  These will be passed on to someone else to write about.

Spike and Kitty

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