Weyr Over the West

I mentioned a couple of days ago that I have another blog which I share with two friends from my writing group. As well as the blog we go on writing walks, meet regularly to discuss everything to do with writing, and we have published an anthology of our writing. Last year we were very excited to be joined by another writer – we have never met her except on-line. Now the four of us have picked out a couple of dozen or so of our favourite pieces which we have published as an anthology entitled Weyr Over the West… and a welter of other places.

Here are some extracts:

Swish and Backwash

The sound of the fan in the darkened ward
swishing from side to side.

Behind the sea wall the sharp-billed waders
waited for the sandy vastnesses to appear,
hunched as they stood there with
the resignation of a 1930’s dole queue.

The breeze from the fan lifted her hair
and the sails of the little boats
filled with wind
and wafted her off to sleep.

Behind the sea wall the sharp-billed waders
waited for the sandy vastnesses to appear,
hunched as they stood there with
the resignation of a 1930’s dole queue.

The breeze from the fan lifted her hair
and the sails of the little boats
filled with wind
and wafted her off to sleep.

Gillian Peall

Tour of Clifton Bridge – including vaults

Steve mentioned to me that he’d heard that there were huge vaults under the Leigh Woods abutment of Clifton Suspension Bridge. I wasn’t sure of the veracity of his claim and so we did what we always do, look it up on Google and see if there was any chance of visiting the vaults.
Steve assured me the story was correct; Ray Brown had been contracted to renew the paving of York stone around the two towers on the bridge and he knew that the foundations for the Bristol side tower had been stepped to reduce the stone needed because the bedrock was close to the surface. He started digging to prepare the ground and came across a couple of big timbers. He hoiked them out and found they had been covering a chamber – or vault – about 1.5 meters high. Being a contractor and not directly employed by the bridge company, he decided it was safe to have a bit of a lark, so got hold of a demonstration skeleton and propped it up at the far end of the vaulted chamber. He told the bridgemaster of his find… and the bridgemaster was not amused. Ray admitted it was just a joke and got on with the paving work.

Richard Kefford

Henleaze Lake

Bristol Post shows his picture,
Superman about to plunge.
Great Scot, just in the shot
I’m standing there immortalised

A skinny kid looks out
from grassy bank to clear-green depths
Where bronzed and peerless heroes dive
and plough the measured course.

One day perhaps, but far away;
that dream time of tomorrow.
If I could build a time machine,
Would I see myself there.

Much doubt, but yet there is a chance.
A nerved pale copy might emerge
creeping from unknown dull shade
to join in these Apollo realms

John J. C. Watts

… and her’s something from me which you may have read before:

Help! I’m Stuck in the Mud!

This was ludicrous… ridiculous to be stuck in the mud… It had happened shockingly quickly. Gus’s evening wander over the water meadows and down beside river was along the same route he always took… although he occasionally reversed it and started at the boat yard and wandered round across the meadows until he hit the path beside the river.
One of the many dogs had come prancing along, over excited and friendly and for some reason Gus had stepped aside to let the creature past and his foot slipped on the sodden grass and his leg then the rest of him had slid, carrying him still upright down to the mud where he plunged in up to his knees. He had laughed spontaneously with shock, terror, relief and a little hysteria. The suddenness of  the Chaplinesque decent, and its conclusion, trapped and unable to move in the silt and clay of the bank, set him giggling… but he bit it back… these days laughter could turn to tears in an instant.
His heart was pounding and he took a few breaths to compose himself before climbing back up the steep bank… except he couldn’t… he was held fast by the mud. He looked round for something to hold on to pull himself out but there was just the same slippery grass which had sent him down here in the first place.
This was ludicrous! Ridiculous! He was stuck in the mud and could do nothing about it.

Her is a link to where you can get a copy of our anthology:

https://smile.amazon.co.uk/dp/1080820175/ref=sr_1_6?_encoding=UTF8&crid=2E5KR50C51DVR&keywords=lois+elsden&qid=1565813807&s=gateway&sprefix=lois+elsd%2Caps%2C272&sr=8-6

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