TV Reflections
Ralph Thomas reflects on the great strides taken by the communications-entertainment industry.
Home | U3A Writing
Ralph Thomas reflects on the great strides taken by the communications-entertainment industry.
Monica Duckering's story features an exchange of words that has happened in many a household.
Merle Parkin tells a choice tale about a fellow with an eye for blonde young ladies.
Monica Duckering's story will ring a bell with many a married couple.
Monica Duckering delights in U3A activities.
Mick Harkin writes about a gentleman of the road.
Ralph Thomas celebrates the U3A.
Meryl Nickels tells a tasty tale.
"Our life’s a continuing story that we take for granted,'' writes Meryl Nickels.
John Leary tells of a nightmare journey.
"From my boat on the river I observe their arrival:
two tiny bee-eaters from Kakadu...'' writes John Leary.
"From my boat on the river I observe their arrival:
two tiny bee-eaters from Kakadu...'' writes John Leary.
...The Major asked Horrie if he would like to bowl, and Horrie (who, you will recall had played a bit at school), agreed. He went back about thirty yards and charged in. The first ball removed a piece of skin about the size of a sixpence from the lobe of Frank’s left ear...
Jim Graham tells of a grudge cricket match.
Continue reading "Winning Isn't Everything - But It Sure Beats The Alternative" »
...‘There’s a lady on that table by the door, Reggie, who is completely unaware she is about to become one of the wealthiest women in the country.’...
Patrick Hopton tells a delicious tale of a conniving chap who went searching for money rather than love.
...‘There’s a lady on that table by the door, Reggie, who is completely unaware she is about to become one of the wealthiest women in the country.’...
Patrick Hopton tells a delicious tale of a conniving chap who went searching for money rather than love.
"My life has been enriched by the custom of sending the hat around,'' writes Jim Graham.
Patrick Hopton tells a choice tale of love and loss at a cricket match.
...Ma was famous for her rolls and indeed the sign on the verandah roof read “World Famous Bakery; get your hands on Mrs O’Grady’s buns”...
Jim Graham tells an entertainingly unlikely tale.
Monica Duckering tells of her delight at being a member of an Australian branch of the University of the Third Age.
It was not all plain sailing when Monica Duckering took to the water.
Elwyn Frankel's haiku says much about our modern age.
Elwyn Frankel's haiku sums up pain and misery.
From my boat on the river I observe their arrival:
two tiny bee-eaters from Kakadu,
winners of the spring marathon.
John Leary's poem expresses the joy of observing the natural world.
Elwyn Frankel's nervous anticipation is leading to a merry old dance.
Elwyn Frankel feels the years.
Elwyn Frankel's "hippo'' is all because of nerves.
Elwyn Frankel's haiku tells of simple fun.
With just twelve words Elwyn Frankel conjures up warmth and brightnerss.
Elwyn Frankel tells of glorious flowers.
...The terrible crash of flight CZ4812 is the subject of endless conspiracy theories....
Derek McQueen's story tells of the mysterious crash of a new airliner which had been in service for just two months.
David Craven passes on to our readers these fascinating facts.
Ray Harman surveys the classes offered by his local University of the Third Age branch.
Elwyn Frankel presents an Australian haiku.
"Dreams and their fulfilment are what make our great big world go around,'' writes Dick Nolan.
Dick Nolan's story concerns a lucky worrier.
|Monica Duckering's poem recalls pleasure and fear while sailing on a sunny, windy day.
Dick Nolan alphabetizes a poem.
Barrie Mansell writes about a great operatic temptress.
...By 1800 Liverpool would send more slave ships to sea than any other port in the world carrying more than 300,000 Africans into slavery...
Derek McQueen writes about the vilest trade in human history.
Dick Nolan writes a fanciful poem about a writer.
...The tasselled lamp shade hung centrally from the high ceiling, heavy curtains hung at the sides of the front window with lace behind them shielding the room from the world outside...
Barrie Mansell recalls his grandmoher's house.
Barrty Mansell tells a cautionary tale about a car salesman.
John Leary tells a tale about sunflowers which never flowered.
Suspicions arise when the butcher's wife disappears and meat with a curious texture arrives in the shop.
Meryl Nickels tells a choice tale.
John Leary's poem hails two tiny migratory birds.
Baked beans aren't necessarily the quickest meal to warm up as Ralph Thomas's delicious poem reveals.
Derek McQueen tells of his early days as a draughstman - and of a demonstration which failed to impress.
Mick Harkin's poem recalls life in the Australian bush in the old days.
...She had a monkey bar, a slide and a swing and we played happily until her mother came out to find us both hanging upside down on the bar. Aunt Jenny was certainly no prude but for some reason she said “Susan, you really shouldn’t do that in a skirt, your pants are uncovered”...
Jim Graham tells of the surprise of his life.
Jim Graham brings golf into the Garden of Eden.
Elwyn Frankel tells a tale for children.
...A butler’s life can be very demanding and there are some things he should be very careful in discussing, even with Sir and Madam...
Barrie Mansell tells an observant tale.
Mike Eastwood tells a tale which begs to be read alound to a young audience.
John Leary's poem tells of great loss, and brings hint of hope.
...The fire’s just getting going. I’m not too late. Look! There’s a sky rocket in a bottle. Oops! It’s fallen over! Whoosh! It’s off, straight at the crowd, but it didn’t get anybody, because they parted like a hairdo...
Brian Scammel tells a bonfire night tale.l
Ken Silvestre tells a heart-warming true story.
"This is nothing like the Brothers’ Grimm story of Little Red Riding Hood which I read as a child and later read in turn to my daughter and grand-daughter,'' writes Barry Mansell. . "What is the world coming to?''
Ray Harman takes us on the holiday bus to Paris.
Marie Armstrong tells as delightful children's tale. Here's a story to be read aloud to all receptive ears of the right age.
"When I was nearly fifteen, my grandmother convinced me that the man who lived opposite her in Commercial St Merbein was Adolf Hitler...''
So begins John Leary's tale.
Gillian Laurence writes of an earlier Royal Jubilee.
Mike Eastwood tells a wizard story.
Barrie Mansell tells a cautionary true story.
John Leary describes a scene we'd all like to see.
Brian Scammell enters the mind of an 11-year-old boy to tell of an exciting day and a terrible event.
Continue reading "My Bag Of Crackers - The Noise And The Dogs" »
...Beneath a gnarled old apple tree lay goods that started tears in me...
Merle Parkin discovered a family's happy memories when she attended a clearing sale.
Mick Harkin presents a memorable poem about a gentleman of the road.
"Among my mates, I have a reputation as a successful angler. No matter where we fish, I usually catch the first fish, the most fish, the best fish. Often I’m the only one to catch my bag limit. In making these statements I am not boasting, I am simply stating facts. If you wish to know the secret, read on ...'' writes John Leary.
"Looking at some of the hats on the street today, I’m not sure if I would like them passed to me. One or two I’ve seen look like they may well be able to get up and walk away on their own without being passed,'' writes Elwyn Frankel.
"Not everyone tells the truth on chat lines. Married men lie about being single and most men and women glamourize their appearance and occupation,'' warns Cynthia Kasmy.
When Merle Parkin went to a clearance sale she was confronted by an array of a family's happy memories.
Jim Graham outlines the foundation of Australia's famous Royal Flying Doctor Service ( RFDS) and his involvment with it which spans 50 years. He met the Very Reverend John Flynn, the founder of the Service.
"Without the RFDS the bush would be a far more dangerous place than it is,'' Jim adds.
Jim wrote this article while a member of a University of the Third Age writing group in Mildura. Further articles, stories and poems by Sunraysia U3A members will be appearing in Open Writing in forthcoming weeks.
...I remember very clearly my first morning on the ward because the night before, there had been a big fire-raid on London. As we entered the ward all the casualties were lying on the floor. One patient had an injury to his eyes...
Marjorie Shirley tells of being a nurse during the war years.
...Sylvie tries to forget what she has seen but the shocking event has followed her into her secret place and is invading her peace...
Nancy Toohey tells a disturbing story.
Naomi Haddrick tells an intriguing tale of sibling jealousy.
Josephine Mackecknie tells a tale of unexpected revenge.
Colleen McMillan tells of a ghostly bequest.
...How wonderful life is, Jean thought, as she wrapped the baby in a soft white towel and laid her on the table. I have a good, reliable husband, a comfortable house, even though it isn't ours, and three healthy, adorable children...
Briar Stuart tells of a day which shook the foundations of domestic bliss.
Laurel Davis tells a story which is sad, satisfying and completely believable.
Shirley Buckley tells a story of flutes in harmony.
Jim Murphy tells an absorbing financial tale about a Simon who was nowhere near as simple as he first seemed.
Robin Hillard tells a choice tale of friction within a family business.
...Jimmy danced the strut of the old emu and found he was the old emu. He was becoming part of the land and the animals it supported. Feelings and ideas flooded his brain. He hopped and squatted and rolled and jumped to the beat; his being was one with the creatures and people, unlike anything he had ever experienced in the rocking night clubs of the city. So much meaning. So much contact with the land. So much understanding. The white man in him stood back looking on in amazement...
John S. Heussler's story tells how a Deputy Shire Clerk discovered his roots.
...Startled, Nana stared at her fourteen year old granddaughter. "What did you say, dear?" she asked.
"I said Dad's got the axe in the car," Belinda answered. "He said when he comes back he's going to chop down your old tree today. Said it's an eyesore and needs to come down."...
Ah but there's many a tale can save a threatened tree as Annette de Jong's delicious tale reveals.
...Then we were there! Over the road and running through thick bush sloping down to Butler's Swamp. For a nine year old, back in 1942, it was a glorious freedom which very few kids today can experience. We were free and wild, and with Dad away in the army, we had little discipline, and lots of time to explore, to wander, and to be just kids....
Fred Frank tells a profoundly shocking story.
...How convenient it would be if a bloke could tuck his nose behind his ear like a pencil, until his missus had changed the baby's soiled nappy, or put his very ears in his pocket when his teenagers were into Rap, or the neighbours flinging crockery with wild abandon.
Merle Parkin has some suggestions for redesigning the human frame.
Monica Duckering’s poem considers the worm from every angle.
D Nolan tells of the man in the hat.
Elwyn Frankel presents four haiku.
Monica Duckering's poem reflects upon the span of a life.
Elwyn Frankel sees a site to prompt serious thought.
Billy the goat is missing. What could possibly have drawn him away from his comfortable home field?
Elwyn Frankel tells a sprightly tale.
Although Jeremy the pageboy looked smart he still had to run hither and thither, as D Nolan's poem reveals.
Maureen Foreman conjures up the intensity of an Australian drought.
Jim Moore tells of an enthusiastic group of bushwalkers.
Jim Moore recalls visiting a house replete with family history.
Jim Moore says a great deal in few words.
Paul Nicolias tells of football rivalry.
Meryl Nickels reminds her fellow citizens who were born in Australia of the trauma involved in emigrating to another land.
Merle Parkin tells of a creaky old dog called Eustace.
Shirley Long’s story tells of a cricketing-mad lad.
Mick Harkin tells of a truckie who got what he deserved.
It's hard work being a grandmother, as Monica Duckering reveals.
Meryl Nickels’ poem conjures up the magic of flight.
...Ben and Harry Buckley though, could fall head first out of a tree and land on their feet like a cat. They never seemed to sustain a mark on their scrawny carcasses - and even if they had, their mother wouldn't go crook like ours.,,
Merle Parkin tells a tale of childhood innocence and wasted lives.
Paul Nicolias tells of the delight of walking his own land at day’s end.
Mick Harkin remembers bygone years.
Meryl Nickel brings a moving reminder of wars which are won, yet lost.
Monica Duckering's story tells of a conflict over a carpet.
Shirley Long tells a tale which reveals that grumpiness sometimes reaps a deserved "reward''.
Mick Harkin remembers bygone years.
Merle Parkin sees a rainbow at “drizzly dawn’’.
The scattering of Dave's ashes was more eventful than planned,as J Leary records.
...Imagine our surprise when on the first morning Auntie and I were in the town when we saw loads of houses with sandbags piled high in front of their windows as if they were expecting a full-scale invasion any minute...
Philip Hayworth recalls Word War Two days in a quiet corner of England.
Elaine Lawton's evoctive poem recalls all those Saturday nights at the pictures.
Paul Nicolias tells of his friend, Mrs Know-All.
Merle Parkin conveys in words the bluest of blues.
Shirley Long tells a tale of two chaps stuck in the “Black Hole of Calcutta’’ in a storm.
Continuing a centuries-old tradition, the villagers of Oberamergau in Bavaria willl be performing their one-every-decade re-enactment of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus.
Jennie Boothroyd recalls her visit to the village thrity years ago.
Barry Mansell tells of problems at Terminal Five.
This poem by Meryl Nickels begs for words to rebuild a fractured relationship.
J Leary, remembering his school days, tells why he can no longer eat scones, jam and cream for tea.
Word processing provides Monica Duckering with many a puzzle.
Merle Parkin writes of life-saving silver wings.
These two characters watch the new folk move into Number Two. But who are these observers? Barrie Mansell tells a surprising tale.
Meryl Nickels’ poem emphasises the power of water.
...Twitter peck - twitter peck. It got worse. As their appetites were appeased, twitter peck became twitter-twitter peck. Table after table around us had been cleared and tempting looking desserts were being carried past us. The serving staff were hovering, waiting to attend us, and the little birds chirruped on.
Finally a thunderous Heavy Jowls could contain himself no longer. ‘For God sake women will you shut up and eat.’ he exploded. Silently I blessed him for giving words to my own thoughts...
Patrick Hopton tells a lunch-time horror story.
D Nolan tells of the tough life of Ester Preston who is now in her eighties.
Mick Harkin’s poem reflects upon changing times and climes.
“It’s a good feeling when a man takes his grandson in his hands...’’
So begins the poem which brings Paddy Webb’s verse biography of her great-grandfather John Ayling to a satisfying conclusion.
Merle Parkin tells the tasty tale of a notable vistory for sliced bread.
Peter Wintersgill outlines the career of Australian opera star Joan Sutherland.
...When we were growing up and would see her going to a house we would run home and tell our mother that there was going to be a new baby at the house where she had gone. We were young then and thought she used to bring a new baby in her black bag...
D Nolan recalls the local midwife, Ma Flanagan.
J Leary wrotes this poem for Jim Bowler, Australian author and geomorphologist
...Too late! Nothing for it but to continue on. Feeling very apprehensive about negotiating an eighteen foot caravan in such circumstances, I gripped the steering wheel and hoped for the best...
Maureen Freeman is no lover of driving on Freeways.
Paddy Webb, continuing her verse biography of her great-grandfather, tells of the heart-breaking loss of a young daughter.
Dharini Parameshwaran wonders if the tsunami which devastated her homeland was sent as a punishment
"Grandpa, why do you always fish here? The fish could be biting over there or downstream a bit."
"This is where old Eustace hangs out, and I know I will catch him one day. You have to be patient, Billy if you want to hook the big ones."
And old Eustace is there to teach Billy an important lesson, as this story by Meryl Nickels reveals.
Even though John Ayling was not allowed in the house when he returned home after an absence of 12 years, his father was proud of him.
Paddy Webb continues the biography in verse of her great-grandfather.
...the biggest and most tiring hurdle was trying to form a classroom of giggling, talking, constantly moving mass of children into a quiet, controlled and co-operative effective choir...
Shirley Long tells of the hard work needed to produce an effective children's speaking choir.
Dharini Parameshwaran's story tells of a frustrating encounter, and a letter that was never posted.
Jack, now a grown up and married, returns home to visit his mother.
Paddy Webb continues her autobiographical poem about her great-great-grandfather who endured great hardships.
To read earlier sections of this poem please visit http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=paddy+webb
Jim Moore's poem celebrates simple delights.
Merle Parkin recognises kinship when she sees a pair of sad and wistful eyes.
...Hello Mum, said my Jack.
Her hand went slowly up to her mouth.
It's me, Mum, Jack, he said.
She still said nothing, just stretched out
Her hand, ran her finger down his cheek...
Paddy Webb continues the story in verse of her great-grandfather who an extraordinarily hard life.
From the depths of frustration Maureen Foreman issues a dire warning.
Ray Harman reports on a discussion of matters electronic.
Shirley Long enjoyed her stay in hospital - and it was there that she met Boris.
...I know Jack don't work here no more
But I promised long ago he could have
The back room when he got wed
A few pies, a bit of beer
and a good knees up, that's all.
Been like a son to me has Jack...
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the hard life of her great grandfather, one of three generations to bear the name John Charles Ayling.
...You learn to appreciate and enjoy the simple things in life. There's no better sound than life-giving rain on a corrugated-tin roof or the air suddenly filled with a frogs' chorus when for years not a croak has been heard. You watch for an hour as a caterpillar digs a hole, bringing up the sand one grain at a time, or you follow some ants to see where they are taking that huge peanut...
Joan Miles tells of happy days in Mungo National Park.
Barbara Tregonning accepts that Nature can write a better poem than any human.
Jack, now working long hours, notices a girl – and she notices him.
Paddy Webb continues the story- in verse of her greast-grandfather.
Maureen Foreman’s poem brings the very best advice.
Jack, trying to make his way in London and desperate for work, has to pay to get a job unloading trucks.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story. set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Barrie Mansell tells a Christmas-tide tale.
Ray Harman has a novel suggestion for members of the University of the Third Age who have seen many a dozen Christmases.
Monica Duckering relishes the sound of silence.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
In today’s episode young John, down and out in London, finds a landlady with a heart.
Barbara Tregonning’s poem tells of the overcoming of grief.
Elaine Lawton deplores the nonsensical lack of help for smaller people.
Mick Harkin portrays in words the aftermath of a raging blaze.
Dharini Parameshwaran ponders on the reason for a destructive tsunami.
So many horses crowding the streets
Men are employed to sweep a path
So ladies may cross free of dirt.
After dark lights in glass balls
Seem to burn air;
There's a full moon's worth of lighted windows...
Jack arrives in London.
Paddy Webb continues the story of her great-grandfather
A chance encounter leaves Barbara Tregonning wondering whether she should have behaved in a different way.
Barbara Tregonning tells of the day they brought the table home.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Joan Miles’s limerick reveals why Miss Monda is still single.
Mick Harkin tells of the disasterous damage caused by a week of heavy rain.
....If it hadn't been for people dying of cold.
You remember, sixteen weeks it froze
The Thames solid enough for a coach and four.
There was no work to be had with the ground so hard
Nothing to be dug from the garden. We were hungry
Most of the time....
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
Today’s episode brings memories of hard work and harsh times.
Vera Sanderson wrote this poem during a World War Two bombing raid.
Maureen Foreman finds an answer to her problems.
Mick Harkin reflects on the patchwork quilt that is his life.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Today’s episode expresses the anguish of a mother whose son has suddenly left home. Further episodes will appear on forthcoming Sundays.
Elwyn Frankel tells a magical tale about young Jackie and his pet kangaroo Joey.
In this poem Elwyn Frankel tells of an ideal start to a day.
Paddy Webb presents in verse the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
The story, set around 1890 to 1902, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother who appears in it as Ellen Elizabeth. It is presented as a set of monologues spoken by different characters.
Further episodes will appear on the next 14 Sundays.
Merler Parkin tells a fabulous tale of a girl who could charm fish.
Maureen Foreman tells of a very special "policeman''.
Joan Miles recalls with embarrassment her attempts to learn to swim.
...I have spoken to Chinese people who have come to this country recently, and none of them have heard of the Terra Cotta warriors. Obviously the publicity is for foreign tourists!...
Jim Moore sees the terra cotta army "recruited'' to protect an Emperor in his afterlife.
Jennie Boothroyd tells of a marvelous man, Guildford Tompkins, who has helped to brighten the lives of thousands of Africans.
Merle Parkin's poem suggests that you never forget your first love.
Dire straights can yield memorable words.
Read Paddy Webb's profoundly moving poem - and marvel!
Elizabeth Robison recalls red-faced (or should that be purple-faced?) moments.
Ray Harman presents a prayer for this Internet age.
Vera Sanderson mourns the loss of a beloved dog.
To read more of Vera's words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Some bus rides can take you higher than you would rather go, as Ray Harman's rhyme reveals.
...And so began a delightful day up on the Downs, our first job being to bring down a cow and her newly born calf from the meadow on the lower slopes. Then we went further up to where the sheep grazed and had our first lesson in sheep herding. We learned how to move hurdles and spent some time putting cake in the trough as a dietary extra...
Veronica Grainger remembers with affection her wartime Land Army days.
Graham Austin's prompt for a short story at a University of the Third Age writing workshop in Muizenberg, Cape Town, was "After that she felt much better."
There's a shock in store for the lady who was the first brain transplant patient, as Graeme Lindridge's tale reveals.
Vera Sanderson wants her spirit to live on in the fragrance of a rose.
Vera Sanderson’s poem encompasses profound sadness and eternal hope.
Ivy Emmerson tells of a reason to stay alive.
To read more articles, stories and poems by Sunraysia University of the Third Age writers please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=sunraysia+u3a
Vera Sanderson not only married a Yorkshireman - he was also a motorbike man.
To read more of Vera's matchless words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Maureen Foreman tells with delight of a young Rocket Man.
...He laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled, 'Oh, Edith,' he said. 'Now who would want to marry an silly old fool like me?'
I was standing, listening. Shaking, I went up to him and said, 'I'll marry you, Mr Faichney.'...
Shirley Henwood recalls her impulsive childhood proposal.
Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
...How can one describe the fogs of yesteryear, which have now been almost forgotten? The thick yellow cloud moved, parted and moved again; always swirling - becoming lighter then denser - muffling all sounds. Vague figures loomed ahead - to disappear again....
M Hicks tells of a foggy beginning to a working life.
Vera Sanderson tells the wonderful tale of an encounter that was to change her life.
To read more of Vera's words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Monica Duckering’s poem suggests that the happy child makes for the happy man.
Vera Sanderson voices a simple yet profound prayer.
Ellie Pemberton, recalling her nursing days, tells of a most unusual patient.
..."Watch where you're putting your feet" is the criteria in the search for the elusive native orchid. When one is found there is a feeling of awe that such a remarkable, delicate flower can be found growing in the hostile environment of the Australian bush...
Maureen Foreman and her family are enthusiastic plant hunters.
Vera Sanderson sends a poetic welcome to a new arrival in the family.
To read more of VBera's poems and prose please click on
http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
...Wherever I went the Luftwafte came too. In Swansea we had raids almost nightly because the steelworks, the dock gates and the refinery were targets. If the refinery was hit, there would be huge columns of black smoke with great bubbles of flame at their centres...
Dilys Birtwistle vividly recalls wartime days.
Mick Harkin sits and broods.
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of the price paid by a working mum.
Merle Parkin's poem tells of her Gran's much-loved piano.
Vera Sanderson gives an engaging and memorable account of meeting the love of her life.
Jim Moore’s poem tells of troubled dreams.
...The strange thing was I was the only person to realise there was an elephant in the garden...
With a first sentence like that how can you resist reading Paddy Webb's story?
...To Joan and I, Moray was a haven, a place redolent of love and caring and we were overjoyed to go there at every opportunity...
Shirley Long remembers with great joy visits to the home of her grandmother and great aunts.
...Being close to Grimsby there were many fishing boats coming and going in the area. Occasionally we would make a collection of cigarettes around the crew and signal an incoming boat to exchange them for a box of fresh fish. I have never tasted such lovely fresh plaice as we enjoyed on those occasions...
Bob Boyd joins a boat crewed by divers charged with exploring underwater wrecks and clearing dangerous ordnance and mines.
To read earlier chapters of Bob's account of his service in the Royal Navy please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=bob+boyd
Maureen Foreman presents this eulogy to a beloved cat - an eulogy with a surprise ending.
Barrie Mansell recalls the day he saw Peter Pan, Wendy and Tinkerbell on the stage.
So do you own your pet cat? Or does your pet cat own you?
Vera Sanderson's poem muses on the most enigmatic of all pets.
Maureen Foreman’s poem recalls the childhood joy of going to the fair.
Mick Harkin tells of ghostly goings on in the bush.
HE was used to seeing many attractive young ladies but there was just something special about this one which attracted him. However, being there as part of the group providing the music, he didn’t get much chance to chat with her. Nevertheless, week after week SHE turned up and sat in her usual place and they exchanged furtive glances and smiles. The short time in the interval gave them the opportunity to talk and get to know each other better, and eventually a ‘courtship’ ensued.
Shirley Lingwood tells of the meeting and marriage of her parents - and of the house in which she spent her childhood.
Ray Harman brings a report on a discussion on art by a Maldon University of the Third Age group.
Joan Miles has great hopes for her pooch Patch.
...The verger was walking down the aisle and he proceeded to the pulpit, up the half-dozen steps to whisper something in the vicar’s ear. There was a lengthy pause, followed by an announcement from the Reverend Corrin. “It is with regret that I have to tell you that, from 11 0’clock today Great Britain is at war with Germany”...
Shirley Lingwood was a seven-year-old, attending a Sunday morning church service, when she heard of the outbreak of World War Two.
Continue reading "The War Years As Seen By A Seven-Year-Old" »
Dharini Parameshwaran tells of a most painful brief encounter.
Jim Moore tells a tale of faithfulness.
Ray Harman recalls the buoyant days when nuclear power was first supplied to Britains's national grid.
Barbara Tregonning’s poem tells of the grim aftermath of battle.
Ray Harman's poem sums up a year of Maldon and District University of the Third Age activities.
Here's some sound financial advice for Christmas, and all the year round, by Mick Harkin.
Bob Boyd continues the story of his service in the Royal Navy as a telegraphist. To read earlier episodes of his story please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=Bob+Boyd
Raeline Noll's poem raises a question: Is childhood inevitably a happy time?
A swish of the broom brings order where there was disorder, as Maureen Foreman’s poem reveals.
...I had spent many nights with my parents and sister in the dark, damp Anderson shelter dug into the ground in our back garden. It was routine to hear bombs fall (we knew by the whistling effect). The tinkling of shrapnel from our anti-aircraft fire was commonplace. We’d emerge bleary-eyed in the morning when the raids ceased, my father to go to work and we children to school...
Dick Dyerson brings this vivid account of his boyhood during the war years.
Bert has a choice. Either to move to a house in the suburbs with Elizabeth or stay with his cows.
Monica Duckering tells an intriguing tale.
Zelda Margo sums up life’s gamble in this snipper of a story.
You gladly sunbathe when you’re young, but there is a price to pay as Joan Miles’s poem reveals.
There’s more than one way of successfully re-potting a cymbidium as Dorothy Robinson reveals.
Mick Harkin tells of a solitary memorial to days long gone.
...When I was nearly fifteen, my grandmother convinced me that the man who lived opposite her in Commercial St Merbein was Adolf Hitler...
John Leary tells an extraordinary tale.
Betty Kay muses on the nature of happiness.
Zelda Margo’s brief story encompasses the sadness for some people of old age.
Lesley Ward tells of family Christmases
Vera Sanderson remembers the Christmases that used to be.
For more of Vera's poems please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Lee Cohen tells an "Alice In Wonderland'' tale.
Nola Andriske’s poem concerns the greatest of all human gifts.
Mima Fisher tells of the passing of the red gum tree.
Elwyn Frankel’s poem tells of a grandma who takes care when she makes tea.
Jennie Boothroyd tells of one of her faqvourite people.
“Larry, the cook, has his own little house with a fenced off garden and a little bit of grass. He has a big shed at the back where he keeps some chooks and gets a lot of eggs, but he also has lots of gnomes - he calls them his little fairies. They all have different colours, sort of clothes, and they have little tables and small three-legged stools,’’ says Sarah Jane, a curious and engaging eight-year-old.
Dick Nolan, in this brilliant story, conveys life on a homestead station in the Australian outback.
Alan Davy's rhymes tell of a writing group - and how to write.
Vera Sanderson’s reeling, romping, rolling song tell of the urge to spin words.
To read more of Vera's poemsplease click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Time is flowing too fast, says Maureen Foreman.
While his assigned Royal Navy ship sailed from port to port, Bob Boyd found himself chasing her around on land.
Meryl Nichols brings a brief history of Anzac Biscuits - then tells how to make them.
...My journey took exactly four weeks from Tilbury, London to Station Pier, Melbourne. A few days after disembarking, I found myself walking along Collins Street. It was a hot day in mid-March with the sun beating down upon the pavements. I looked up at the sky and yes, the sky was a deep blue. I had realised my dream at last!...
Sylvia York tells of emigrating to Australia.
...Sunday School Anniversary was the day for a new dress, white ankle socks and black patent ankle strap shoes...
Peggy MacKay recalls Sunday School days.
Sylvia York tells of migrating to Australia when she was a teenager.
Frank Garner, unable to fight in the Great War because if a minor disability, receives the most dreaded of all symbols, as Wilma Schmidt reveals.
The old and forgetful Goodmans are the recipients of a very good turn in this story by Zelda Margo.
...Mr D-- happened to leave the room for a few minutes and a few of us were fooling about, making animal and bird shapes on the screen with our hands. As he came back into the room I was startled and by accident, knocked his cup of coffee all over the table!
Guess what? Out came his pump and my hand didn't half hurt for the rest of that day!...
Hazel Dracup tells of a teacher who believed in physical punishment.
Lee Cohen tells of a person who goes in search of a brand new “me’’.
Joan Miles's poem tells of an occasion when an opened suitcase simply refused to be repacked.
Vera Sanderson’s poem pays tribute to a much-maligned bird.
Merle Parkin's evocative poem tells of a brief but purposeful life.
The character in Lee Cohen’s poem is well and truly henpecked – and delighted to be so.
Peggy MacKay pays a return visit to the village in the north of Scotland where she once lived.
Wilma Schmidt was delighted to be given a chance to return to nursing, the career which she loved.
...In this wide earth is there not one who can
By words or force bring to a mad world sanity...
Moira Marchant writes of that most elusive state - peace.
Merle Parkin’s poem heralds cold days, followed by new life.
Here are four haiku from Joyce Hinchliffe. Quick in the reading, long in the thinking.
...At the station when my husband asked for a ticket for his wife but could not produce an allowance book, the tough skipper of a patrol boat in the Royal Navy became an embarrassed young bridegroom, very conscious of his new status as a husband...
Peggy MacKay recalls her wedding day.
Margaret Parton's school days almost ended with her being expelled.
Elwyn Frankel brings some rhyming fun.
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of an awakening that no one desires.
Monica Duckering’s poem concerns the art of writing.
John Leary brings a new take on an old rhyme.
Sometimes only one particular word will suffice., Zelda Margo tells a tale of a woman with a sharp tongue.
...As long as I draw breath
I'll chatter, natter, shout and scream..
Vera Sanderson's poem is a perfect expression of a determination to live life to the full.
“Just mention my name,’’ said Mabel – but she said it once too often.
Zelda Margo tells a tale concerning brainwashing.
Wilma Schmidt brings a forceful message: go out and sample life head on.
Monica Duckering's poem celebrates Australia's mighty Murray river.
Ida Smith tells a tale of a funeral which had more than its share of surprise drama.
...All was well until the girls became teenagers and went out dancing until late, bringing friends home to sleep and not rising early any more. Many a young visitor leapt from slumber, rudely awakened by the organ motor...
Peggy MacKay tells of surprise awakenings – and a happy home.
Monica Duckering's poem emphasises that some things are just not meant to be eaten.
Peter Wintersgill tells of Maria Caradori Allan, the soprano soloist in the first London performance of Beethoven's Ninth symphony.
Cheryl Spry tells of the dramas which unfolded while she was running a corner shop.
...In my day doctors were a last resort in illness. Everyone had their own cures: chests rubbed with camphorated oil, a Vick Vapour Rub, sore throats gargled with red sage and vinegar, a cough soothed with lemon, honey, Ipechuana, and Beecham’s powders or aspirin for easing the symptoms...
Peggy MacKay remembers the days when life seemed less complicated. This article was written at the request of Peggy’s youngest daughter.
Jennie Boothroyd recalls the joys of family life when she was a young girl.
Mima Fisher tells of taking her pupils on an outing in the Australian bush.
...I went to Sunday school at 10.30 a.m. and from there to the church service, Sunday school in the afternoon and church at 6.00 p.m. Never missed; that was unheard of. I remember changing into my play clothes in between services. When I think now of casual dress everywhere, even in church, I have to smile...
Marjory Kershaw recalls her happy Methodist upbringing.
...The coal stove in the kitchen was part of my childhood where I learnt to spell Johannesburg from the word stamped on the oven door, and many were the loaves of delicious homemade bread, cakes and puddings my mother produced from its small black interior. All the furnishings of that comfortable old kitchen remain as cherished parts of my childhood. The zinc had a chipped stone draining board and a white enamel bowl where the budgie, Pretty Boy, took baths in a lettuce leaf if the tap was left running, but the stone draining board and rigid enamel wash-bowl made short work of crockery if care was not taken...
In this satisfyingly detailed and evocative article Barbara Durlacher recalls her parents, and her childhood days in South Africa.
Continue reading "Early British Settlers in South Africa - 4" »
Merle Parkin paints a portrait of rural life in one short poem.
Nancie Dyson has some thoughts on punishment – then and now.
Peggy MacKay's husband John served in the Royal Navy during the war as the skipper of a patrol ship on mine recovery and anti-submarine detection, based in Scapa Flow.
She was just 21-years-old when she received a call at her family home in Yorkshire saying that John was in hospital in Aberdeen...
...On the big day we trooped off, knees scrubbed, hair slicked down, with instructions to say thank you for everything, only to take one cake at a time, and don't let the bantam go!
We let the bantam go...
Merle Parkin tells the delightful tale of a birthday gift which took wing.
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of the trials and tribulations of a working mother.
Barbara Tregonning's poem captures the essence of "wild'' Australia.
Who is this old dame who keeps hooting at the bloke driving a double-decker load of scrub goats?
Merle Parkin tells a tasty Aussie tale.
Vera Sanderson's poem captures the essence of that most independent of all creatures - the cat.
Anna Golitschenko tells of a day of panic which had a tasty ending.
…I yearned for the simple things in life - getting up at the crack of dawn to pick the fresh blossoms for temple offerings, to feed the needy before partaking of our meal - the little things that could give pleasure to others less fortunate, thereby deriving pleasure yourself..
Dahrini Parameshwaran realises that the old path is where the heart belongs.
Janet Richard's poem celibrates the joys of Spring.
Continue reading "Flowers that Bloom in the Spring – Tra La" »
…The moon rose, full, silver, majestic, dimming the stars with her brilliance. A moon fit for magical happenings…
In poetic prose, Cassandra Bicker tells of the dance to end all dances.
A University of the Third Age discussion group recently focused on the state of education in todfay's U.K. Mr Average summarises their thoughts.
Hazel Dracup recalls working in a motor taxation department when manual work was the norm and computers had not yet arrived on the scene.
Lee Cohen’s poem muses on the most important question ever asked.
"Later in life is a very exciting time for me,'' says positive-thinking Jim Moore.
Vera Sanderson, subtitling her poem Something in the Wind – the Tale of a Terrible Gale, tells of a breezy pair of lovers.
...On weekends we had to wear our school uniforms until 3.45 pm when we were allowed to change into our ‘weekend clothes’ for the rest of the day...
Hazel Dracup tells of the rules and routines of boarding school life some 40 years ago.
To read more articles by Hazel please type her name in the search box on this page.
Elwyn Frankel tells of a bird's life.
A first flight brings warning cries in this evocative article by Sandy Saunders.
Elaine Lawton presents a series of short poems.
Vera Sanderson pays tribute to a marvellous Yorkshireman.
Esme has a plan for retired life, and it does not include her husband Bill...
Rose Perry tells a tale of a scheming wife.
Ida Smith's story concerns a mysterious and troubled school teacher.
In this splendidly detailed article Monica Duckering tells of life on a remote Australian cattle station.
Patrick Hopton re-tells the tale of a Brief Encounter. Patrick’s version provides much more fun than the original story, which. so they tell me, ended up on the big screen.
Betty Kay suggests that it is best to just accept happiness when it is there, and to learn to live without it when it is not.
A chair can mean a lot to a family, as Rose Perry's story reveals.
Francis Barton tells of her distress as a child on an historic day.
Janet Richards' story highlights the need to care.
Chris Dean of Vancouver takes issue with Ken Harris of Australia on the origin of banjos.
…It was a large camp, which already held well over ten thousand, all women and children, before we arrived to add to the overcrowding. About five houses had had to be emptied to receive us newcomers, and we were met with a measure of resentment by those already there. Soon we were allocated our ration of personal space in the vacated houses. Between eighty and a hundred to each house…
Thea Sloane recalls the dreadful months she spent as a prisoner of the Japanese during World War Two.
Sandy Saunders tells of a frustrated hound.
...At night you could hear aeroplanes flying towards England and back to Germany. The Germans used to stop the trams and ask for people's identity cards. They were looking for people born in my year and the following year to take to Germany for hard labour. My younger brother was going to be taken away but got a stomach ulcer and did not pass the medical...
Françoise Taylor recalls wartime days.
Rose Perry recalls the drawer in which her grandmother kept “treasures’’.
…“My floor next,” Marek said trying to ease the tension. We were too close for comfort as the saying goes. As he said the words, the struggling lift shuddered to a stop. We were two feet short of floor two.’’…
Derek McQueen’s spooky story involves a situation we all dread.
To read more of Derek’s tales please type his name in the search box on this page.
...How do you tell a good banjo from a bad? Pick it up. Look along the neck. Is it straight? It should be. Next feel the weight. The heavier the better, because that means it has steel reinforcement to stop the pull of the strings bending the neck. If the neck is bent you'll never play chords up the neck...
Ken Harris presents a short history of the banjo.
...I've had a lifetime with horses and am still enjoying it. I have had several accidents along the way, one very serious one on the road when the horse was hit by a car and was so badly injured it was put down on the spot and I was in hospital with a fractured skull and other injuries. Even this has never deterred me, but I am very wary in traffic.
Please, all you drivers, do take care when you meet horses on the road. Please slow down and give them a wide berth. We need much more off-the-road riding, more bridleways...
Eileen Lester introduces us to her four-legged friends.
Hazel Dracup recalls happy youth hostelling days.
...According to my very favourite historian, Russell Ward, "Australia suffered from the depression rather earlier and more severely than most countries". Russell says, "For a time nearly 30% of breadwinners were unemployed. Long queues of men would be seen seeking one job and thousands tramped bush roads with a swag and billy."
Mildura in the harvest season, with hundreds of acres of sultanas to be picked, dried and packed, became a Mecca to these people. There were few cars that made the 600 km trip from Melbourne on those rough dusty roads so mostly the journey was made on shanks's pony or by "riding the rattler", which meant jumping into an empty freight carriage and hoping not to be caught by a railway security guard...
Ken Carr tells of hobos - most of them good family men who had become victims of an economic crash.
Sylvia Wiseman's poem captures the excitement of a carnival.
Ida Smith tells the story of Hester, the daughter of poor parents, who goes off to work in Johannesburg, only to return with – ahem – a bloated stomach.
It was a speed contest between horse and bike following a theft at the garden centre, as Sandy Saunders' sprightly poem reveals.
…You took my hand, palm uppermost,
And gently brushed it with your lips and tears…
Vera Sanderson’s wonderful poem captures the essence of true love.
Thea Sloane recalls the time she spent in a Japanese internment camp during the second world war.
There are things you need to know when you go to buy a computer, as E M MacPhail’s story reveals.
John Ricketts is a pallbearer at the funeral of an old soldier who fought in the Boar war.
...During one particular journey home at the end of term, when I was 14, I purchased a paperback from the book kiosk at Kings Cross Station. (It was normal for me to do this in order to relieve the monotony of the three-and-a-half hour journey home). The book was the first in the 'Whiteoak' family stories by Mazo de la Roche - the 'Jalna' series.
I started to read it on the train and finished reading it within a day or two of arriving home. Very interesting I thought - a very good read, then looked to see what the next title in the series was, purchased it on my next trip to town, and had read that before returning to school the following week...
Hazel Dracup recalls how she became an avid reader. To enjoy more of Hazel's articles please type her name in the search box on this page.
..."You know he done her in, and there's no more to be said about it." Mary was adamant, and was not going to be sidetracked. "And, anyway she deserved everything she got."...
But who did murder Jade? Elwyn Frankel's tale takes a surprising turn as the mystery is unravelled.
Is Kotie really the sort of friend that a young girl should have?
Ida Smith tells a subtle tale about learning to survive in a hostile world.
Nobody ever believed me when I told them that sausages were types of eggs. It was so obvious, why had they all to be so thick. I know very well that sausages were eggs, pork sausages were pig’s eggs and beef sausages were cow’s eggs.
David Craven confirms that young boys do not always know what they think they know.
To read more articles by David please type his name in the search box on this page.
Ken Higson tells of days when you could have lots of fun for two pence.
…In a daze I picked up and thumbed through a loose bundle. Five hundred used twenty pound notes. A rapid calculation . . . ten grand in this one bundle! And there were hundreds of them!…
Patrick Hopton tells the tasty tale of a man down on his luck, a Mercedes SL and four and a half million quid.
I you live in a certain part of the city it’s good to have a friend called Sheba, as Zelda Margo’s story reveals.
Prolonged power cuts in Johannesburg prompted Lee Cohen to write this poem.
Hazel Dracup recalls the day when she handed a jar of lemon curd to Princess Margaret.
...“First of all”, he said, “I’m telling you now that you’re not to mention anything about what I’m going to tell you to anybody outside this house.” Then he added that endearingly Irish and quite contradictory saying, “No matter what you say, say nothing.”...
Alan McConnell tells of mysterious goings-on in rural Ireland.
Alan vividly recreates the delights and mysteries of an idyllic boyhood. Settle down and enjoy a long, luxurious read.
Vera Sanderson, in sprightly rhyme, tells of a Yorkshire couple who are cautious with their brass.
Continue reading "A Yorkshire Wife’s Wedding or Fifty Thrifty Years" »
Monica Duckering's poem tells of awakening to new ideas.
John Ricketts tells of a lonely gold prospector.
Jim Moore's poem tells of a travelling man - and a cup of tea to warm the soul.
Derek McQueen definitely was not smiling when things started to go wrong during his second commission as a wedding photographer.
Janet Richards tells of the day when the Angel of Abundance came to call.
Beware who you engage in casual conversation at a conference, particularly so if they are not delegates. Derek McQueen tells a menacing tale.
To read more of Derek's stories please type his name in the search box on this page.
Vera Sanderson mourns the passing of the roast beef of old England.
John Ricketts tells of an early example of keyhole surgery.
Kind actions can echo down the years, says Merle Parkin.
Barbara Patterson tells of a lady who conquered her fear of flying.
...Dad would go in his tanker which was painted in blue with the ICI logo on it. Tanker 148 was my dad’s. He would go to Cheshire in the morning, go into the Huddersfield ICI to empty the load, and then go back again in the afternoon for another load.
Every now and again in the summer holidays I would have the opportunity to go with him on the afternoon run...
Hazel Dracup tells of afternoons out with her Dad.
John Ricketts, who was the headmaster of a school in Africa for a number of years, tells of lions in the classroom.
Marjorie Upson paints a word portrait of her father, James Harker, who was taken prisoner during the First World War.
Brenda Hellawell discovers that her accent identifies her as being from a specific town.
A nice watercolour of Bakewell Bridge is better than 'owt in yon Tate Modern.
Derek McQueen tells the tale of a Barnsley couple who take the bus to London to see modern art.
Back in November we ran a story by George Brierly who told how he came to be arrested by Americans while taking part in Operation Dragoon during World War Two.
Frank Thomas of Tiverton also took part in that airborne and seaborne assault on Nazi occupied Europe.
Today we are re-running George's story, and also Frank's memories of those epic events.
Barbara Tregonning's atmospheric poem shines a light on an Australian landmark.
John Ricketts recalls his first African game viewing trip.
On a grey day, the queue is waiting, waiting… Vera Sanderson tells of a queue one would not wish to join.
Barbara Patterson tells of those little monsters - sons and grandsons.
Have you ever wondered what she was thinking while her portrait was being painted? Mary Bourne goes inside the head of a very famous lady.
Vera Sanderson expresses her abhorrence of hunting.
Zelda Margo tells a sad South African tale.
...Why did we not intervene? In that quiet, peaceful square where we had been so at ease there was now a feeling of a strange inadequacy, of things not being right with the world. lt was as though a cloud had descended to destroy what had previously seemed a perfect day?...
Betty Kay recalls an astonishing incident witnessed in a beautiful tree-lined square in a Spanish town.
…“Oh, hallo , Mr. Ricketts. Good News! A boy born yesterday at a few minutes to twelve. Yes your wife is fine though I’m not pleased with her at all. When I gave her the baby she burst out laughing. When I asked why, she said he was the funniest baby she’d ever seen; that he was all nose.”…
John Ricketts tells of a mad Christmas-time dash along bumpy African roads.
...Christmas times were always happy times. We didn't have much, but the family get-togethers were magical for me. The local brass band and choir would come round the village to welcome in Christmas, and people would take out cake, mince pies and a warm drink for them. Sometimes when it was snowing it seemed to me like an old fashioned Christmas card with the adults and children in their colourful winter clothing carrying lanterns and singing carols and the snow falling all around them...
Brenda Hayler tells of a two-hour bus journey which carries her back to her early life.
John Bayley tells as story for December 26 - St Stephen's Day.
...Beneath a cloudless star-filled sky several hundred worshippers, each with a lighted taper in one hand and a hymn sheet in the other, faced a candle-lit altar, and moments later to the words of 'O Come all ye Faithful' St. George's Cathedral Choir led in the Anglican Bishop of Jerusalem and his retinue.
As the last notes of the first carol died away, the Great Bell of Bethlehem sent its message booming across the world: Jesus Christ is born....
Tom Swallow tells of being in Bethlehem on Christmas Day, 1939.
Pat Rollnik presents a poem for this special day.
...When we found a compartment it was already occupied by two elderly gentlemen, but once again in those days you never gave it a second thought. As we settled down to speculate about where we were going and what we were going to buy, we became aware that the two men were rehearsing some sort of script. We became curious and listened to them reading.
They realised that they were being watched so explained who they were. We were fascinated. They were Tom Forrest and Ned Larkin from 'The Archers'. Although we were both far too hip then to listen to the program, we had both been brought up on it and knew exactly who the characters were. Although The Archers was normally recorded in Birmingham, Tom and Ned were off to record an episode at the Smithfield Christmas Fat Stock Show...
Wendy Bower tells of meeting two famous radio characters on a shopping trip to London.
Pat Rollnick sums up this special time in a poem.
No eletricity...no dinner...rain coming through the bedroom roof....
John Ricketts tells of a soggy and dismal Christmas Day in Africa.
Mima Fisher tells of the war fought by Australian farmers against the common enemy - rabbits.
Nancie Dyson recalls the stern days of wartime rationing.
...We sang Fill Thou my Life or The King of Love my Shepherd is with There is a Green Hill at Easter and harvest hymns at the appropriate time and of course carols at Christmas.
November 11th was kept every year with 2 minutes silence which seemed like an eternity, and nearly always somebody fainted which added a bit of drama to things...
Peggy MacKay recalls her school days.
Lonely Jenny finds the hope of happiness in her local supermarket.
Barbara Adams tells a heart-warming Christmas story.
John Ricketts' dad was not one to sing him lullabies. Instead he gave voice to classic music hall songs.
...Now I have two young grandchildren. I can look back on my experiences with my grandparents and am able to take the positive things I learnt and pass them onto my grandchildren and hopefully enrich their lives in the same way that mine did for me...
Hazel Dracup remembers her grand parents with deep affection
….My teacher was Miss Walker. We wrote on slates with slate pencils, which made squeaky noises when we used them. I remember dried beans for learning how to count, add and subtract.
When leaving school on Fridays Miss Walker rewarded those who had been very good, or had done exceptional work, with boiled sweets (fishes and pear drops). I never qualified in either category. No surprises there!…
Nancie Dyson recalls her primary school days.
Gerald Newman became an astonishingly different person after being struck by a Sheffield tram. But was it a change for the better?
Derek McQueen tells a tale about a man who knew too much.
...Going for walks up Liley Lane and across the various fields with Grandad as he told me stories of the area, including Shuttle Eye Colliery where he had worked for over 50 years. We collected ladybirds and brought them home in matchboxes...
Hazel Dracup tells of her affection for a Yorkshire mining village.
John Ricketts considers some of the numbers which have ruled his life.
There were Cowboys and Knights, Andy Pandy and Looby Loo...
Irene Grundy tells of a fancy dress party.
George Brierly tells how he came to be arrested by Americans while taking part in Operation Dragoon during World War Two.
Vera Sanderson presents a cautionary poem. I do hope you are not smoking a cigarette while reading it!
…Suddenly, there in the water near where I and two other me were not just one but three crocodiles. Three crocs each fifteen feet long. I can see you have visions of us each wrestling with one of them. Actually there were three crocodiles each fifteen inches long. We each grabbed one and took them ashore and put them into large bowl. After that we were much more careful as little crocs meant that there must be big ones somewhere about. However none was ever found…
John Ricketts recalls an astonishing family holiday on the shores of Lake Nyasa.
…The Advanced Driving test itself covers a course of approxomately 40 miles and incorporates all the different types of road. It covers town centres, dual and single carriageways, motorways and country lanes. During this time the examiner, besides giving instructions as to where to turn etc, asks questions at random about what signs or road markings one has just passed and it is important to keep your eyes peeled for as many signs as you can. You also have to watch the speedometer regularly as you have to keep within the speed limit wherever you are…
Hazel Dracup tells of facing up to a stern driving challenge.
Best not to have a pet dog about when sweets were rationed, as Marjorie Hicks recalls.
Dahrini Parameshwaran tells of a family heirloom - a string of pearls.
Barbara Adams tells a delicious tale of progressive attitudes at a 50-year school re-union.
Virginia Nasmyth's thoughts float far and wide as she considers the meaning of flight.
Jim Moore tells of the trials and tribulations of building a new home.
...There was another surprise in store when I discovered that I could shoot straight and hit the target. The 303 Lee Enfield was the rifle, but my weapon of choice was the LMG, the Bren gun. When a new consignment of weapons arrived at the barracks, Sgt. Bennett, Corporal Mathews, Alan Heppenstall and myself were chosen to take the guns onto the range and zero them in. We were told to take refreshments with us, and my wife had cooked sausage pies. These were absolutely gorgeous and were probably the reason why I was chosen for two similar outings. On both subsequent occasions I was told by Corporal Mathews not to forget the pies...
David Bennett tells of his days in the Army as a National Serviceman.
Hazel Dracup tells of her first holiday abroad in a beautiful small town in Southern France.
Lesley Baxter tells of an "aunt'' who lived a solitary life in a one-room home in less-affluent times.
John Ricketts tells of grim situations he had to face as the head of a city primary school.
Gerry Collins tells of a once-in-a-lifetime event that we all experience.
Virginia Nasmyth tells of a day in the life of a city.
In this computer age John Ricketts is thinking about pen and ink.
Derek McQueen "eavesdrops'' when two giants of modern art, Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso, meet in Paris to discuss the future of cubism.
Jan Kennedy's story concerns a new outlook on the world.
All is not as it first seems to be in this intriguing tale of different lifestyles by Mary Cryer.
…It soon became apparent that we were fighting a loosing battle . Our beating was achieving nothing. Suddenly a wind came up again, and we saw the fire, fifteen foot high, racing towards us. We dropped our beaters and ran. In front of us was the Anglican Church which had been built almost to roof level. Fortunately there was no glass in the windows and we dived in, minus eyebrows, arm hairs and with smouldering scalps and clothing which we managed to beat out…
John Ricketts learns at first-hand the danger of lighting a fire in the African dry season.
...All these years she had managed to avoid flying anywhere since that one time when all her worst fears had been confirmed. Edgar, her husband, had been the only person who knew about and understood her terror of heights and confined spaces. The very thought of being shut in a plane, or watching a film of people balancing on precarious heights turned her legs to jelly...
Beryl Roper tells an encouraging tale about Anna, and her jelly legs.
Cecily Cross’s poem tells of endurance.
Patrick Hopton tells a delicious tale concerning the annual village fete at Little Bogbury.
Story telling at its very best….
Margaret John recalls her wartime days in the Royal Air Force.
When John Ricketts was headmaster of a school in Africa he encouraged children to gain in confidence by standing up before the class to tell the news.
But the news which young Bill eventually brought to the class was more interesting than he realised.
Ken is trapped in a pit, and the water is rising. Will his wife Jeannie save him from drowning?
Derek McQueen tells a dramatic tale.
...On one occasion after we had done our piece and were sitting quietly as usual, the compere came up to Auntie to ask if we could do something else. One of the artistes had failed to arrive and a fill-in was needed. As I have said, we were not naturally gifted dancers and our repetoire was limited. Auntie had to reluctantly decline, saying that we had nothing else prepared just at that time as rehearsals for our new routine were only in their early stages.
However, the compere did not give up. "Can they sing?" he asked. We did know a few songs and had sung in the chorus with the others at Auntie's other shows, but never on our own...
Muriel Spencer may have been the smallest girl in her class, but she proved that she had the loudest voice.
Patrick Hopton tells a hot tale concerning incidents on a freezing day.
...Judaism teaches that to help others is a privilege and an obligation, a sacred duty embodied in the unique Hebrew word, “Mitzvah”. That duty has been performed down the centuries by countless Jews in their quest for truth, justice, peace and human happiness and their desire to build a better life and to contribute to the well-being of their fellow citizens in whatever countries they have adopted as their home...
Stanley Solomons, with words that come from both the head and the heart, tells of the immense - almost immeasurable - contribution Jews have made to the advancement of civilisation.
Marjory Kershaw’s delightful article proves that the best way to cope with senior moments is to keep hold of one’s sense of humour.
...When I was ten years old in February 1937, it became my duty to be Dinner Girl for the Smithy Men (my uncles). My mother was the only married member of the family and because I was the eldest grandchild it became my honour to take the job.
I went to Deane Church of England School, three doors from the family home, so, as soon as the twelve noon dinner bell went, I had to grab my clothes and collect the dinners. Aunt Mary had them ready in a basket, a dinner for each of the uncles, placed in individual enamel dishes with saucers on top, (no cling film in those days). There were also smaller dishes for the puddings, plus spoons to eat with and everything covered with a thick cotton terry towel to keep warm...
Myra Higson recalls her early days in Bolton, Lancashire.
Poor Mark! A young man without a girlfriend. Then he meets the beautiful Maria, an enchanting Italian girl and they arrange a meeting. But there is a clash of dates. City have a vital Cup re-play game. What should football fan Mark do?
Patrick Hopton tells a suspensful tale.
Derek McQueen tells a tale of what could be a lucky meeting at a supermarket check-out.
Albert Hoskins, an 82-year-old resident in Eventide Home, falls for one of his carers, a beautiful young Polish girl…
Master story-teller Patrick Hopton’s tale contains satisfying surprises.
John Ricketts, who served as a headmaster in Africa, tells of the day that his dog Samson was confronted by the big cats.
Alan faces a big decision - to leave home, or not to leave home.
Virginia Nasmyth tells a good-humoured tale which will stir many memories.
Derek McQueen tells the moving story of a love which never died.
To read more stories by Derek please type his name in the search box on this page.
…There was a great deal of warmth amongst the people. It was as if magically they had all decided that for one day in their lives they were all going to live in peace and harmony. And they were succeeding admirably. This day was a momentous day; a day which marked the end of one epoch and the beginning of a new era. This day was symbolic of the golden millennium…
Yusuf Garda recalls a golden day in the history of South Africa.
Jo Earle and Keith Manchester tell of climbing Africa’s highest mountain, Kilimanjaro.
Read these words by Phyllis Thorby and, assuming you are not already an enthusiasist, you will begin to get some understanding of the thrill of the racing game.
Derek McQueen tells of a significant encounter in a Tunisian hotel lift.
To read more of Derek's stories please type his name in the search box on this page. And do visit our Gallery to see some of his pictures.
John Ricketts tells of his first glimpse of the “school’’ in an African mining town. John had been appointed the school’s headmaster.
Gill Laurence recalls bygone days.
The regulars at The Fish were disappointed when their "local'' was bought by a TV celebrity look-alike. But was he a look-alike, or could he be...?
Derek McQueen tells a fishy tale.
Mike Eastwood tells of a fabulous boyhood adventure while on holiday in Cornwall.
In this delicious tale, narrated as a series of recorded phone messages, Patrick Hopton tells of infidelity...and retribution?
Zelda Margo tells of a couple who are together, but apart.
The recital of Mrs O'Malley's sins bores Father Hennessy as he here's her confessions week by week. Then Mrs O'Malley tells the priest that her brother has died in the United States, and she has been named a benificiary in his will..
Patrick Hopton, a born story-teller, presents a deliciously wicked tale.
Herta Puls is less than enchanted with developments in the Welsh countryside.
John Ricketts had a surprise visitor at the school in which he was teaching in what was then Northern Rhodesia.
...my attention was always drawn to the row of painted cocoa tins on the mantelpiece in which granddad put pennies every week for each of his grandchildren. It was a highlight of the year when at Christmas and again at holiday time the tins were ceremoniously opened and the contents handed over...
Norma Shreeve recalls her childhood days in Stockport.
Zelda Margo’s tale concerns a friend who knew too many people.
…I’m an NLA, Grade 1. That’s a Never Loving Angel. The main job of an NLA is to plant wicked thoughts into the minds of Mankind…
Walter Murton tells a choice and highly-imaginative tale..
John Ricketts goes driving in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), on his way to take up a post as the headmaster of a school.
In this environmentally-conscious age who is the greenest of the green. Is it Simon Barlow, or is it his wife Sarah.
Patrick Hopton tells a delicious contemporary tale.
…One day at the beginning of winter, standing on the cold blustery veranda, Thomas attempted to say something, but everyone continued talking as though he’d not spoken. He was coughing badly and the pouches under his eyes were more pronounced than ever. The frayed scarf around his neck gave him the appearance of a tortoise as he craned his head this way and that.
“I’ve got my coffin alright.” We stopped talking. “Had my coffin up there in the shack for the past three years.”…
Ida Smith tells an astonishing and unforgettable South African tale.
Zawa Conradie wrote this piece for her 12-year-old daughter. “She is between being a little girl and a young lady, and I am fortunate in that I have a close and open relationship with her. There is so much to be said, so much to learn, (by us both). So little time.”
John Ricketts tells of a fraught air journey from London to the then Rhodesia in 1957.
At the outbreak of war John Smith was told by his grandma that he was going to stay with his aunt in the country. "I wondered why I had not heard about this "Aunt" before, and was puzzled my Grandmother's reticence on the subject. I did not realise that she did not have a clue, where I was going, but was just carrying out Government instructions for the safety of children.''
A friend who is a meteorologist phones and tells you that the world is about to end. Armageddon is nigh. So what do you do? How about enjoying a spot of lunch?
Ruth Kriszanowsky tells a tasty tale.
This desirable creature with elegant legs and golden-brown eyes was a desirable catch. Such a pity that she should have become an pbject of fashion.
Zelda Margo’s story has a sting in its tail.
...It was decided that the office I had previously shared was too big for one little lady and I was moved to a small hut next to the stores. The head store keeper was a big man with the improbable name of Dai Jesus and who not only had a strong Welsh accent but also a cleft palate. Conversation with him was fraught...
Joan Henry recalls her wartime days as a film projectionist.
John Ricketts tells of finding himself accused of violence against a boy while teaching in Rhodesia.
...The beautiful St Mary's Church, where the pupils of the Church school were marched up to commemorate all the Saint's days. The Church inspector visited the school regularly. The pupils practised the catechism every morning and were word perfect for the auspicious occasion of the scripture exam...
Shirley Sperring recalls her village as it was more than five decades ago.
Ray Harman’s poem celebrates the many activities and study groups offered to members of the University of the Third Age. Ray is a member of Malden and District U3A.
…We had to have air raid practice with allocated shelters, and every other week we had to practise wearing our gas masks. As someone who has always suffered from claustrophobia, I kept a finger tucked in my gas mask so that I could breathe…
Nancie Dyson vividly recalls her experiences during World War Two.
So why does the man fish everyday when he is of working age? Zelda Margo tells of an astonishing encounter.
Despite our details being stored in computers, John Ricketts doubts that we will be remembered for as long as some Romans.
...Some years later his father died, by which time Dom Frano had abandoned every vestige of his Roman Catholic faith and lived like a hermit. Dispensing with formality, he heaved his dead father onto his back with no shroud or cloth to cover his body, and – much to the horror of the villagers – carried him through the village to the local burial ground where he dug a hole and unceremoniously threw his father in, without a word of prayer or a blessing of any kind. He filled up the hole and walked back to his home without speaking to any of the villagers, several of whom had gathered to commiserate....
Marija Reed tells the astonishing story of how she came to own a necklace that allegedly came from the court of Emperor Franz Joseph, ruler of the Austro-Hungarian empire.
Vera Sanderson tells an intriguing tale involving the loquacious Lotte, her milkman, and a green and gold foil bottle cap.
The words that Ray Harman learned in a University of the Third Age French group were useful when he visited La Belle France - up to une point.
Zelda Margo tells a tale of a husband who does not listen.
Smells can bring back memories, both good and bad, as John Ricketts reveals.
…It was a fatal attraction from the very first moment that he caught sight of her. She was learning against the wall, the spring sunlight illuminating her sinuous lines and dark, matchless, exotic beauty….
Vera Sanderson tells of a torrid love affair.
Ida Smith tells a South African story of hopes unrealised.
…There was an alleyway access to the back yard, which we called 'the entry' but others called 'the jigger'. My mum decreed that this word was 'common'! I remember once having some (forbidden) chewing gum and hiding it on the window-sill of another house in the entry. I had to reach above my head but to my mother it was clearly visible from her back kitchen window. Sometimes we were given the embarrassing (to us) job of counting how many sacks the coalman had emptied into the coal-place next to the outside loo. The last job on wash day was to use the last of the water to swill the yard and scrub it with a stiff brush….
Elizabeth Robison recalls her childhood home in Birkenhead. For more of Liz’s entertaining words please click on A Potter’s Moll in the menu on this page.
...The snow continued day after miserable day. Each time it fell, the last layer was frozen solid ready for the next batch. I don’t remember how long it took to fall, but one of our friends, Albert, who was in the army had come on leave from Egypt just as the first flakes fell. He spent his three months leave in England, returning to Egypt without seeing a blade of grass...
Marjorie Upson recalls the year when Britain was snowed in for months.
…“Oh you can sit on your kit bags,” was the reply. “It will be better than sitting on the cold metal. You can dangle your legs over the edge there.”
As our eyes got used to the dim light we realised that we were sitting with our legs dangling into the bomb bays of the Liberator…
John Ricketts’s first flight was a long way from being comfortable.
...My dearest playmate, friend and companion was our sheep dog Chum. We had to walk across two fields to get to the house or down a long muddy lane - wellington boots were essential equipment! We kept one milking cow named Judy and made our own butter in a long wooden churn. The skimmed milk left was used to rear one or two calves who were suckled by hand...
Joyce Nicholas tells of delightful days in the heart of rural Wales.
Norman Hodghton re-tells a very famous childrens' tale - this time from the wolf's point of view.
John Ricketts recalls the day when he finally made the quietly-spoken sergeant armourer use bad language.
Continue reading "Swearing - A Time And A Place For Everything" »
Peggy MacKay recalls some of her mother’s favourite sayings.
Ivy Hollingworth writes of a dreaded disease, pulmonary tuberculosis.
...Meanwhile mother is up, making porridge, packing our lunch and seeing that two bricks are in the oven warming, to be put in the pony's bag of chaff, to act as a foot warmer for us as we drive the five and a half miles to high school at Lilydale...
Mima Fisher remembers with delight what a school day was like in the 1930s.
Mike Eastwood looks back longingly at the snowy winters of his boyhood.
Was it red wine that resulted in a North African victory? Norman Pringle tells a wartime tale.
John Ricketts recalls the day he turned down a job in the film industry.
...They gazed in awe at this large house, bigger than they ever seen in their lives. The car pulled up at the front entrance. As they alighted, the front door of the house opened, and three excited children came running out to meet them, followed by a lady...
Rose Perry tells of a family who led fulfilled lives after moving to Adelaide.
Derek McQueen tells a tale of a retired music hall entertainer – a real charmer in his striped blazer, even if he had a voice to challenge the stoutest eardrum.
For more if Derek’s stories please type his name in the menu on this page.
Cecilia Evans writes a poem about the new millennium, when computer problems were predicted to result in all manner of disasters.
John Rickets goes for a disastrous ride on a ten-bob bike.
Meryl’s Nickels's 14-word poem is long enough to delight every writer.
...I can always remember a wireless in our house - all be it operated by batteries. A large dry battery and a wet accumulator which had to be charged on a regular basis. They were very selective when it was switched on to conserve the batteries. News and weather bulletins were always listened to and I can well remember getting up in the early hours of the morning to listen to the commentary of the Tommy Farr and Joe Louis fight, a crackling and fading transmission from America...
Bill Davies recalls an idyllic Welsh childhood.
Elaline Lawton’s poetic musings flow as smoothly as the great Murray river.
…The ceremony was a lovely blur. My main memory is of standing next to Jim and thinking that he seemed much taller than I remembered. On looking down, I discovered that he was wearing some ginger-coloured bell-bottoms with suede platform soled shoes with quite high Cuban heels. This was topped with a maroon belted suede jacket and later, as we drove away, a deer-stalker hat…
Liz Robison recalls her wedding day. Do watch out for Liz’s regular column in Open Writing, A Potter’s Moll.
Kay Burgess pays a tribute in rhyme to the village where she lives.
John Ricketts, who was the head of a school in Africa, learned something about locusts.
Jill Moore tells of high drama at Lockhart Gorge, a rocky gully on the south coast of Victoria, Australia.
After reading Guy Roberts's poem we sympathise with the lady of courage even though we do not know her name.
All it took to ruin a perfect day in London – and much more besides – was one quick phone call, as Derek McQueen’s story reveals.
Derek, whose tale involves an art exhibition at the Royal Academy, is an artist. Please do visit his Web site http://www.derekmcqueen.com/
...Our house received three of the bombs but, as my grandfather refused to use the Anderson shelter, preferring to die in his own bed, he was on site and able to put the fires out...
Sheila Dennis tells some family tales.
John Ricketts tells another tale of his time as a headmaster in Africa.
...The dunny man came regularly once each week, hail, rain or shine, in a motor truck loaded with dunny cans each about 2 ft high (high being the operative word), and 1ft 6 inches wide. There must have been something like forty cans on each load, because us kids jokingly referred to the dunny truck as being the most powerful vehicle in the world, "It has forty cylinders and flies", we would always say...
Ken Carr recalls the characters who, long years ago, were essential in ensuring a sweet life in small Australian towns.
Moira Marchant recalls harsh winters on the island of Newfoundland.
Rodney Imrie recalls a thrilling and right-royal fortnight in June, 1953, when he was serving in the Royal Navy.
A football match convinces Janet Richards of how good life can be.
Cassandra Bicker’s splendid poem is a rebellion in rhyme against life behind bars.
…Certainly nothing I ever played with as a child ever needed batteries, except one very prized torch…
Elizabeth Robison remembers days when children’s toys were powered with imagination, rather than electricity.
Michael might have been a bit of a rogue - but did he deserve his end? Sandy Saunders tells a tale filled with the best kind of Irish blarney.
...I was now fifteen years of age and finally got my wish to work underground at the pit. I was to work with Ivor Davies (also known as Dollgano) - apparently he was called this after a famous card player. Doll was mad on cards, I think he was the best I've ever seen. I will never forget that first morning shift. I had to pick up my lamp from the lamp house, they were the old type and weighed over twelve pounds. Then, with my water can (jack) containing two pints of water and my food box, I started the one mile walk to the coal face with the colliers. My cap was too big, it was lucky I had ears! I tried to hang the lamp on my belt like the other men but it kept hitting and bruising the inside of legs. I was already getting tired and thirsty, my arms were aching and I started to drink my water. The lads told me to stop drinking, 'When your water is gone there will be no more. There are no taps underground, water is gold'....
In this vivid and unforgettable slice of autobiography Viv Saunders tells of hard times in a Welsh mining village.
…At then end of the court were several privies. I can see now the square of newspaper hanging from a string which was on a nail. Again, I don’t think that they had any water supply. A hole was cut into the wooden seat which had been bleached by repeated scrubbings…
John Ricketts describes a working-class home in Birmingham in the 1930s.
2006 brought a most unwelcome experience for Peggy MacKay.
...But, some months later, on a day that I can still clearly remember, something awful happened at school. Meneer, the principal, had just finished reading the prayer, when Siena began to weep loudly. She was sitting at her desk at the back of the classroom, shaking uncontrollably, her head in her arms. Meneer, a big, stern-faced man, still holding the Bible, walked briskly over to her...
Siena has heard the news that the husband of her sister Hester has been killed in an accident. But did Hester really have a husband? Ida Smith tells a deeply intriguing South African story.
Barbara Patterson tells of the creation of a famous painting.
So what’s the subject of the conversation when taxi drivers are shooting the breeze? Len Bourne reveals all.
Doreen Bryant recalls a bleak Christmas during the depression years - with sheep's broth for dinner.
Jennie Boothroyd recalls Christmases of yesteryear.
Lee Cohen tells of the day that an author received an unexpected visit from a Story Policeman.
Snow brought exciting, enchanting times to the boys at a boarding school, as John Ricketts reveals.
The fruit cake fan has a Christmas surprise for his wife, as Elwyn Frankel’s story reveals.
While Arthur and Jim are at the health club they take it in turn to confess their problems. Jim, having trouble with his investments, has lost £20,000. However, something is waiting when he arrives home to convince him that money isn’t everything. Derek McQueen tells a lusty tale.
John Ricketts says that he has worn uniforms all his life. The only time he could escape formal dress was while gardening in his allotment.
"The radio played a big part in our lives and both my brothers and I had crystal sets, (home-made of course). Dad was a radio buff and made our radios and also built the cabinets to put them into. Uncle Mac on Children's hour, Dick Barton Special Agent, Radio Luxemburg and The Ovaltinies, Happy Girls and Boys and George Formby singing “Keep Fit, Chew Phenamint”, another version of Andrews Liver Salts if I remember correctly. But don't quote me it was a long time ago...''
Nancie Dyson treasures memories of long winter evenings when she was young.
In Monica Duckering’s poem Mackie the dog has to learn a simple lesson. A phone is not a bone.
Peggy MacKay writes about her beloved Colne Valley in Yorkshire.
…I was dressed in my new uniform of sports coat, short grey trousers, white shirt and a school tie. That was the weekday uniform. On Sundays and high days it consisted of black jacket, striped trousers, Eton collar and black tie…
John Ricketts goes off to a boarding school for the sons of Catholic gentlemen.
Jack Isaacs recalls the day when a curse saved his life.
….Elizabeth has worked well but this result is a little disappointing. Impetuosity which results in carelessness is the main drawback…
Elizabeth Robison recalls one of the most dreaded of all documents, the school report.
To read more of Elizabeth's delicious words please write her name in the search box on this page.
...How sad it is then when the final click is heard
We remember the multitude of things we'd meant to say...
Guy Roberts tells of the joy, and the frustrations, of keeping in touch by phone.
"Antiene was a lonely place for a child but I soon learnt to become my own best friend and created many interesting things to do. Dad put up an old railway tent for a cubby house and I played here on my own for many hours each day, dressing up and creating scrapbooks...''
With a vivid eye for detail. Pat McLaren-Smith recalls her lonely childhood and her school days.
...At about 5.30 the Chef de Cuisine came to ask whether we wanted first or second sitting for dinner - we opted for first. We unpacked and dressed for dinner which was an evening dress affair. The dining car was truly Victorian luxury, panelled in olive green picked out with gold with the lights, table lamps and other fittings in brass....
Frank Straw recalls a journey in the lap of luxury aboard the Orient Express.
John Ricketts recalls his first love.
Irene Grundy recalls the joys of playing out when she was a girl.
Jack Mott recalls life in Ultima, Victoria, during the war years.
"When we arrived we did have a bungalow peeping out of the tall elephant grass surrounding it, but no water or electricity. For several months I was the only European woman there, and my two year old daughter the only European child. We were certainly pioneers, but grew to love the country...''
Kathleen Wakeham recalls days in Nigeria in the 1950s.
...My mother's war ended when my brother came home on his demob leave and said he wished to become engaged to a Dutch girl. He hadn't much money and nice rings were scarce, so mother took the engagement ring off her finger and said, "Give her this!"...
Jean Thornley, writing with great good humour, remembers war-time days.
...Remember when the baker gave you a ride to the corner on the back of his horse-drawn cart and the smell of fresh baked bread drifted up your nose?...
Frances Stoneham travels down Memory Lane.
For more memories please visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When.
Thelma Weston writes of flutterbys and paterkillers.
…I am lying in bed in a darkened room, our front parlour as it happens my mother has her arms around me, cradling me. The light from the crack in the curtains illuminates her face and she is crying with tears running down her cheeks…
John Ricketts’s earliest memories are of unhappy days.
Time is the enemy of the busy woman, as Joan Semmler’s poem reveals.
…One day we had a terrible storm with gale force winds. The hens, which were allowed to roam freely in our fenced-off back garden, had retreated from the storm into the shed which was their home. But the wind blew the shed over, allowing the terrified hens to escape. In their terror most of them flew over the fencing and scattered all over the avenue…
Jean Flinders had to learn how to keep hens during the austere food-rationing days of World War Two.
Pauline Sampson tells of an army officer who, after a scandal involving the commanding officer's daughter, had to resign his commission.
But Steven, with his boring tales, was to become a hero in civilian life.
Shirley Curtis, Diana Elford and Carol Short, members of Macarthur (Camden) U3A writers' group, Australia, recall bygone days.
Sheila Ford recalls the day when she was among the first to walk across the new Severn bridge.
…I have hardly ever seen a photo of Taid without his pipe. He smoked Ogden’s St Bruno flake, and I remember the smell in our house on a Sunday lunchtime as he cut open his Welsh newspaper with his penknife – a mixture of tobacco, newsprint, mint sauce and roasting lamb…
Elizabeth Robison presents a glowing word portrait of her Welsh grandfather – her taid – the most unforgettable character that she has met.
To read more of Elizabeth’s entertaining articles type her name in the search box on this page.
Melody Sharpe presents a letter written by her great-uncle Arthur Fisher to his mother Mary Ann Porch back in England. It tells of a trip from Brisbane to Tenterfield with his older brother George in 1863. Arthur's spelling and grammar have been retained in this abridged version of the 3,000-word original.
For more memories please visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When.
...My fondest memory was of the summer time, when the men living around, would dam up the stream and we had our own lake to swim in... Margaret Crowther recalls distant days.
…In the slump years of the early Thirties it was still not uncommon for a man to pop his overcoat or best suit which he would not be needing on a Monday and redeem it on Saturday after he had been paid…
John Ricketts recalls Mr Machin the pawnbroker.
Fred and Bella have a romantic view of farming and decide to give it a try, as Jean Marr reveals. But then “We were awakened in the dead of night by a horrendous noise in the henhouse. Our dog did not seem too keen to investigate, so we thought best wait until daylight….’’
Muriel Spencer recalls innocent childhood days when a beam of sunlight was reason for an excited shout of delight.
George Brierley’s poem was written on the island of Ischia in the Bay of Naples while he was convalescing in Mussolini’s weekend house after being wounded a few weeks before the war in Europe ended.
Beryl Roper tells of a retired teacher, who, on he eve of her 80th birthday, is guarding a very special secret.
Win Grant recalls impoverished times - days when happiness ruled.
John Plater recalls his arrival in Australia as a £10 immigrant.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When.
...Another winter job was loading muck (or manure if we are being polite!) then carting it by horse and cart to the fields, a lovely warm job on a freezing cold day....
May Cropley recalls her time in the Women's Land Army during World War Two.
When Warren G York moved as a teenager to live in a Sydney suburb he found himself rubbing shoulders with Australian history.
Peggy MacKay tells us of some of her favourite places – and of a time for tears.
David Craven's mother kept a flour-and-butter stained, hand-written book which contained all her favourite cooking and baking recipes.
This little book prompted David, who is a member of a University of the Third Age writing and reminiscing class in Huddersfield, to invite other folk to contribute "old time'' recipes. He gathered these into a book - and here it is.
PRINT THIS OUT. REFER TO IT AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN... YOU WILL ENJOY LOTS OF TASTY MEALS.
YUMMY, YUMMY!
Rachel Grundy remembers the Saturdays of her childhood.
…Billy loved my grandma who had a very large bun on top of her head; she would fly down and settle in it like a nest…
Sybil Downs tells us of an adventurous female budgerigar.
Allan Thompson fell hopelessly in love with a blue-eyed blonde when he was five years old.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When.
…Human nature needs to express itself. Freedom of spirit equals a peaceful mind and repression of any kind, even when it is meant for a person’s good, equals an uneasy spirit…
Mary Basham, in reflective mood, tells a tale of China to illustrate a basic human need.
To read more of Mary’s thoughtful articles type her name in the search box on this page.
Guy Roberts says a tearful goodbye to an old friend.
…In the months of preparation it was found that though we could borrow some wooden stands it was doubtful if there would be anything like enough for the numbers expected to attend. It was therefore decided to build a stand behind the diamond. One of the farmer members allowed a brick-maker from his farm to find a suitable ant-hill from which the bricks could be made….
John Ricketts recalls the day when an American baseball team played a game in Africa.
...He brought along to the meetings a magic lantern, which was an early form of projector using glass slides. We were shown pictures depicting stories of children neglected by parents who had succumbed to the demon drink. I believe that at some meetings a glass of whisky or alcohol was set alight to demonstrate how our bodies could be burned, though I never witnessed this personally....
Joan Sutcliffe recalls the temperance organisation, the Band of Hope.
A handful of clay can say a lot about human potential, as Dharini Parameshwaran reveals in this story.
…Its people are as solid and steadfast as the hills with a warmth and sense of humour unequalled anywhere in the land. It is a splendid valley….
Peggy MacKay writes of her beloved Colne Valley in Yorkshire.
...Anyway, it’s a gall bladder thing - a doddle, so they tell me; one can live perfectly happily without a gall bladder. Well if that’s the case just answer me this – why then did the Good Lord waste his time in providing me with one in the first place?...
Patrick Hopton takes us into the dreamy world of anaesthesia.
'''Sometimes a stray sheep would come back in our boat because it couldn’t find its way home...
Jack Mott tells of making-do in hard times.
...If my mother could manage it she would give me a penny to spend here. and what a rare treat it was! I always bought a pennyworth of Monkey nuts wrapped in a screw of newspaper, quite the best value in the shop, I thought, although one could buy an orange or a banana for the same price....
Doreen Bryant remembers village shopping expiditions of almost 75 years ago.
…This jolly little man finished my interview as follows: “There is something I ought to tell you, and I’m not sure how you will take it.”
I thought that this must be something important, and his face was very serious. I stood there while he said, “Sylvia, do you know that there is no such person as Father Christmas?”
I can’t remember what I thought, but I do remember him bursting out laughing and me going bright red….
Sylvia Abele recalls being interviewed for her first job.
Barbara Tregonning tells a heart-warming tale of a girl who had to endure the giggles and gossip of heartless, snobbish schoolgirls.
So where do you think this gorgeous young creature with elegant legs, beautiful colouring and golden-brown eyes ended up? Zelda Margo tells a highly moral tale.
…Puzzled, she came to him. Placing a hand at either side of her face, he drew it towards his. ‘In olden times they called this a kiss,’ he explained. ‘It’s what lovers used to do together.’…
In this vivid sci-fi tale Patrick Hopton tells of an explosive love-making farewell in a future time.
Ida Smith tells of an encounter in a supermarket cafe which reveals a sad tale of unfulfilled love.
Kay Burgess recalls the day the war with Germany ended.
John Ricketts considers improvements in modern life, and things that were better way back then.
...I value my memories. In my thoughts I see my father playing the piano, and my mother singing. I would watch the ceiling in case it collapsed with the vibration of her beautiful strong voice...
Rose Perry looks back on the times she has lived through, and the values of the generation into which she was born.
Radmila Dancer was deeply moved by a painting which she saw in a quiet Norfolk church on a summer's day.
Sisters Sylvia Abele and Irene Grundy recall with great affection and warm humour their father's parents.
Ruth Werner recalls the Swinging Sixties - and how she lost her fear of naked bodies while a trainee nurse.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When.
Lynette Wood remembers the delights of life aboard the passenger ships which plied between Britain and South America.
There was a very good reason why David Bennett should be pleased to be moving on from primary school to grammar school. Her name was Eileen...
Peggy MacKay flies off to Orlando, Florida – there to have her nail scissors confiscated.
Joan Murton recalls school-days swimming lessons in the Roman baths at Aqua Sulis – which was the Roman name for the city of Bath.
…It must have been approximately eleven-forty five when we heard a loud crash in one of the back bedrooms. Karen went to investigate. A few minutes later she was marched into the room by a masked gunman and thrown to the floor while another intruder held a gun against her head. The third accomplice stood in the doorway holding a large pistol. All three wore ski masks and dark clothing….
Cynthia Kasmy tells an astonishing and dramatic story.
Jam tins filled with water kept the ants away...
Beryl Sampson recalls the Coolgardie safe, an early device used for keeping food cool in hot weather.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/
Click on Remember When.
Douglas Smithson tells of a small incident involving a dog which occurred while he was teaching at an approved school for boys.
John Ricketts recalls adverts from his boyhood – and the day he met a "monk''.
Douglas Smithson recalls the day General Bernard Montgomery came to inspect the troops.
Claire gets her just desserts by locking herself out of her house in this story by Joan Semmler.
…This was a lady who scrimped and saved to feed and clothe her children. In the summer she stopped her clock to save the works. In daylight she looked across at the factory clock. Wool from old jerseys was unravelled and re-used.
She could not afford to waste anything. I’m sure she would have been mortified by the mountains of waste in today’s society. She was accustomed to make do and mend, a phrase which is now long past its sell-by date…
Gillian Tovey does not feel at home in this spend-spend-spend credit-card age.
Edith Pleasance recalls her childhood in a Devon village where all was not sweetness and light.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When
Jean Imrie and her brother hated Mondays - washing day.
Sarah Johnson finds it hard to share her husband's excitement about potatoes in this tale by Mike Smark.
"At school, her nickname was Higsy, but at home my father always referred to her as ‘Hilarious Davies’ because of the number of times I would come home with yet another tale which began: ‘You’ll never guess what Hilary did today…''
Elizabeth Robison writes a sparkling tribute to a school friend who was a joy to know.
...There was a time
I was your universe,
The steady centre of your life...
So says Norman Hodghton's poem. But now there are only post cards...
...That evening at dinner the Captain addressed us. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we are on our way. but what lies ahead I have no way of knowing. Ships have been sunk around us, and we have been very lucky to have remained unscathed. Due to the delay, we have missed our convoy and we are on our own, so I must urge you to carry your life belts everywhere you go, and I mean everywhere, as if we should be attacked you wouldn’t have time to go and get them. And that’s an order!”...
Irene Bulloch tells of embarking on a wartime voyage to Australia.
For lots more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au Click on Remember When.
Does a man own his car, or does the car own the man? Guy Roberts's poem brings a witty answer to that question.
"When I visit a house with cats they always come up to me and jump on me, eager to make me feel uncomfortable….''
As John Ricketts reveals in this article he has good reason to hate cats.
Jim Moore travels the Silk Route to Samarkand.
In this sprightly youthful poem Irene Grundy declares:
"I’m content as a senior citizen.
I don’t want to be sixteen again!''
When Ilse Erber discovered her grandmother's guest book memories both happy and sad were reawakened.
Betty Shorting tells a delightful children's story about a lion who glared.
Astra Warren tells of a young Chinese girl's dream to go to the big city - a story based on an experience during a trip to China.
Joyce King present four fragments of times past recalled by members of Werribee U3A’s Writing With Words group.
For more memories visit http://www.u3answ.org.au/ Click on Remember When on this site.
M W Henson recalls the immense joy of returning to one's own home.
Lucy Manders sees a familiar figure, hears his voice… But this can't be. Reuben is dead….
Ida Smith tells a spooky tale.
Wilma Schmidt's moving tribute to an old man named Frank will make you feel a lot happier today.
Derek McQueen tells a watery tale about the bathroom radiator which features in paintings by the great artist Pierre Bonard.
Derek, who is an artist and photographer, has a number of engaging stories in Open Writing. Type his name in the search box on this page. See also some of his photographs in the Open Writing gallery. To visit the gallery click on any picture.
..."Hullo, girls, waiting for the next ferry to Commodore Heights? It's a long wait isn't it? But if you like you can come with us and well have you there in ten minutes."...
Ilse Erber tells the story of an offer which was declined.
...Winter or summer, Mr Ledger's shirt-sleeves were rolled to just above the elbow. His sinewy, hairless arms and hands moved with lightning speed from mouth to last, then back again...
Ruth L Ross recalls Mr Ledger the shoe-mender.
Jeanne Lacey recalls the day the bomb dropped.
…The tram which we caught from the hotel had a heavily armed soldier at each end. We went to buy stamps at the post office and we had to walk between sandbag emplacements with armed police who were examining everyone who went in…
John Ricketts tells of flying from Machester to Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) in 1953 – a journey which contained enough excitement to last most folk a lifetime.
…Every bush mother's worst nightmare is to have a snake between her and her child. Now her child was stirring, and might at any instant slide off the bed onto the reptile in the bag….
Merle Parkin tells a story with a chuckle and a cluck in its tail.
...Today, a person is called a Luddite if he is viewed as a hindrance to progress. It is used as an epithet. However, its meaning has changed over the years. When it was first coined it was not a defamatory word. In fact, those to whom it was applied were convinced of their righteousness, because they were fighting the most important battle that men can ever fight. They were fighting for survival...
Walter Murton’s takes a cool look at an important event in Britain’s industrial history, and its effect down the decades.
Ellen Weston tells this wonderful Aussie tale about the times when the Swaggies came a-calling at her isolated Queensland home.
Continue reading "A Chance Encounter - Jumping The Rattler" »
Frank Straw is still astounded after all these years by the greeting "Heil Hitler''.
"So take up your pen,'' says Kay Savage. "See what you can achieve when you harness its power.''
Joan Semmler reveals that after the brandy had been drunk the question was repeated.
Jane Leitch’s brief and poignant sketch encompasses the pain of losing old and dear friends to sudden and unexpected illnesses.
...if age hadn’t weakened the adhesive powers of the only roll of Sellotape found in her home, and if rain hadn’t stopped play in the Fourth Test Match, then Sid’s life would doubtless have jogged on in its humdrum daily pattern. But happen these circumstances did, and the consequent changes they wrought in his life were cataclysmic...
Patrick Hopton tells a tale which will make you chortle.
David Bennett casts an affectionate eye on Monty, the last in a long line of pampered cats.
...Old gum trees loomed ghostly around and above us, illuminated in the high beam of the car. Each tree was different, some gnarled with branches incredibly twisted, some straight and majestic, some barks white and smooth, some brown and fissured, some peeling off in great strips. All so beautiful in their own way, just like people, I thought..
Gerda McIntosh recalls the excitement and delight of her first family holiday in Australia.
For further entertaining memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
Lynette Wood recalls her life as a teacher in the days when a school had to share one radio.
…The counters in the store consisted of planks laid across whisky boxes. Some of them were covered in blankets but many were just the bare boards. Among the things that I bought at Sloman’s were a rifle and a shotgun, a white dinner jacket, working shirts and shorts, cutlery, cooking pots (he stocked some missionary-size ones…
John Ricketts recalls a store keeper he met while teaching in Africa.
Richard Nolan writes of the last journey of a Royal Marine.
When you start to recall the decisions you have had to take on reaching life’s crossroads you suddenly find that you are launching yourself into autobiography, as Joy Shapter reveals.
Elizabeth Robison delights in the anthem of the land of her fathers.
..."Shut up, and don't change the subject. Girls aren't as strong as boys, you're supposed to protect them, not bash them, do you understand?" And she shook me until I rattled...
Don Shaw recalls the day when he was taught how boys and men should treat the opposite sex.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
Oh the joy of going to the movies in an afternoon – until the conversation starts up. Cynthia Kasmy tells a story laced with frustration.
...Services were non existent, the nearest mains water supply was a tap at the bottom of the hill. One of my jobs was to hang two buckets from a yoke across my shoulders, walk down to the tap and plod back up under the weight of five gallons of water...
Phil Wood remembers the village life of seventy years ago.
Joan Semmler remembers the hard work involved in helping her mother to cook.
Raymond Philliskirk tells of the happy days when he went down to the beach with his father to gather whillicks.
Beachcombing is a marvellous way of life – particularly when you find a treasure chest.
Mark Scudamore tells a satisfyingly salty tale.
...each day my elder brother Gordon and I rode our pony bare-back to school. School was a mud-built farmhouse down a dusty, winding country road about two miles away. I doubled on our old, half-blind pony with just a bridle and my brother's waist to hang on to...
Doug MacLaren-Smith recalls the day he fell off the pony.
For more memories visit u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
...One of the funniest incidents that I recall was being in Windsor booking office when a little lad, resplendent in Eton collar, tie and suit, rapped on the window and arrogantly demanded "A half first class ticket to Newbury my man". Not at all nonplussed the booking clerk said "Get to the back of the queue". "But there is no queue" said the lad. To which the clerk replied, "Then wait until a queue forms sonny". I thought the confrontation was extremely amusing...
In this long and luscious read Bill Chamberlain tells something of his life - including his 47 years as a railway man.
…the Gestapo were waiting in the street outside his house to arrest him. They were afraid to arrest him at the University because of his popularity and thought that it would be easier to surround him in the street and whisk him away…
John Rickets tells of the hardships of one of his teachers, a man who had to flee from Austria in the 1930s.
Dorothy Grist, writes an evocative description of a fruitless crusade to try to make conditions better in an area where every effort seems hopeless.
Anne’s house is inundated with gardening books and magazines. Her ironing is piling up. The cobwebs and dust are gathering. Sometimes there is no meal ready when her husband comes home..
Rose Perry writes about an horticultural addiction.
Elizabeth Robinson recalls her exciting and traumatic first day as an exchange teacher at Huron High School, Michigan, USA. Elizabeth had been teaching at Heckmondwike Grammar School in Yorkshire.
The word “lift’’ prompts Jane Leitch to think of the word “face’’, and a series of thoughts involving plastic surgery follow on.
...She sighed to herself. It was no joke being a saviour at 12 years old, and having to solve the problems of the universe.
“Dear frogs and little green friends I will give some thought to your tribulations and try to find a solution, then I will contact you”...
Stella Leonard tells an engaging tale about Sarah Jane, the young saviour of the frogs.
...The next day we unpacked our two cases and our electrical appliances, and by showing our marriage certificate, we obtained a permit to buy a jug, toaster and iron. Sitting on the table they were a symbol of marriage and war years. We were poor in possessions but rich in love and hope...
Connie Kennedy recalls austere wartime days.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
...Walking home along the lane in the soft, silvery glow was a joy...
Doreen Bryant remembers the simple pleasures of childhood.
Dharini Parameshwaran tells the heart-warming story of the chocolate drop gran.
Young Terrance falls into the “dam’’, but his luck is in because a “giant’’ is on hand to rescue him. Stella Leonard tells a cheering tale.
…I am sat on the Victoria Monument with my father and a policeman bending over me. In the heat and excitement I had fainted. The policeman disappeared, to return with a glass of water bearing the Royal Coat of Arms – the nearest I have ever come to royalty… Jean Kirby recalls memorable childhood outings.
Can a sundial help to mend a broken marriage? Norman Hodghton tells a tale of tangled love.
Continue reading "Or Will You Just Politely Say Goodnight?" »
…As the flames slowly died away and night fell, a solitary porcupine wandered up to the stoep, looking enquiringly for morsels… Stella Leonard tells of a family gathering in the African bush.
When Fay White was a little girl she was frightened of long-drop toilets. Old people were horrified at the suggestion of toilets inside the house. Her mother-in-law said “They will be so unhygienic!” When toilets were installed in bathrooms her mother was appalled that towels would hang in the same room.
Years later, Fay's memories prompted her to write this poem.
...Break was a rough and tumble in the playground and there was a very strict calendar observed for the playing of games. I can't remember in which order but once a year we played, amongst others, whip and top, hoops, skipping, hop-scotch and marbles...
Doreen Bryant recalls her days at a village school in the 1930s.
John Ricketts, who was at one time the headmaster of a school in Africa, recalls the day he went on a lion hunt.
…eventually Granny chastised us for being bold and then she quietly told us that the pot was so old, that she believed it might belong to a Leprechaun, and it could be his crock of gold…
And Granny was not too far from the mark, as Dick Nolan’s wonderful story reveals.
Joan Murton tells of the loos she has loved.
Jane Leitch tries a little self-help to sort out a telephone problem.
…She found that the students’ interests lay in the history of the Russian Revolution, not in maths or English.
She was with her class on the night of June 15th with no inkling of the planned march to protest against the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction…
Zelda Margo recalls the incident of 30 years ago which marked the beginning of South Africa’s democratic revolution.
Pauline Sampson remembers Larry the Lamb, Paul Temple, Tonny Handley, the Goons - and other radio stars.
Bring back the delivery man, says Fay White, longing for former days.
For more memories in verse and prose visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
"We were told that if the siren went before we left for school we were to stay at home until 'all clear' and it is awful to think that we quite looked forward to the siren going!''
Daphne Bashford recalls her war-time schooldays.
Shirley Long writes of the restless boredom of being in a hospital bed.
“I adored the dances – Valeta, military two-step, St. Bernard’s Waltz…’’ Brenda Hellawell recalls her dancing days.
Untidy Julian meets Miranda and decides she's the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But there is a problem. Miranda is so...untidy. Mary Cryer tells a neat tale.
Aristocracy came knocking at Jennie’s colonic irrigation practice door… Zelda Margo tells a sparkling conversational tale.
Jennifer Kelly remembers her days as a railway kid. For another selection of fscinating memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
Mo Baker remembers the days of Hide and Seek, and best clothes on Sundays.
The yellow wood tree became a symbol of home, peace and the future for Robert when he was serving in the army in World War Two. But Robert is in his seventies, and the tree has become a different kind of symbol. as Joan Murton reveals in this comforting story.
“Soon I was chained to the bed by both arms which were attached to machines and drips…’’
When John Ricketts went to a clinic while on holiday in Spain, thinking he had flu, he was told more than he wished to hear.
“It all began when Mum got seized with the desire to go All Irish…’’
In this tasty article Shirley Long describes how her Mum, having “discovered’’ an Irish grandfather, decided that even food had to be green. (Come to think of it, perhaps tasty is not the right word in these circumstances).
Derek McQueen tells of the day when fat Colin got stuck in the air raid shelter, a tale that is oleaginous and hilarious in equal measure
“Uncle, do you know about dragons?” he asked, to change the subject.
“Almost everything, mi’ boy. Why, I am regarded as an expert in dragons.”
Robin Harward tells a warm-hearted tale about a young boy, a dragon and a wise, understanding uncle.
Douglas Smithson arrives at a depot on Salisbury Plain in 1943 to train to become a glider pilot.
Continue reading "Does Everyone Want To Become A Glider Pilot?" »
..."Saturday arvo at the pictures" was almost a ritual for children... Peggy Kelsall remembers pre-TV days in Bondi, New South Wales, when a trip to the local movie theatre was the main entertainment.
For more memories of bygone days visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
"We left the Bay of Naples and passed close to the Isle of Capri. It was 3 pm and teatime. I was sitting in the Second Engineers cabin playing a game of draughts with him when there was a loud explosion the ship lurched violently and the draught board and our cups flew into the air and onto the deck. At the same time the ship started to vibrate strongly and below us we could hear that the seventy five rpm steam engine seemed to be rotating like a racing car engine. The force of the explosion in number four hold had broken the eighteen inch diameter propeller shaft in two...''
Phil Wood tells the dramatic story of his first war-time voyage as a merchant seaman.
A mobile phone’s tinny tune can seriously affect one’s concentration when buying a new skirt, as Joan Murton discovers. But a mobile phone can be a blessing.
“Am I on the way to becoming a Jack of All Trades?’’ asks Jean Marr. “Or should that be Jill?’’
“Ah, just wait, you will like this, I create a new you. You will look so young.” He continues with his shears. I see a hideous sight emerging – a bird’s nest on the top of my head…
Joan Murton, with a secret smile, confesses that her hairdresser terrifies her.
Zelda Margo tells a captivating story about the making of a writer.
Daphne's whole life revolved around her husband, Paul. Then Paul was no more... Edwina Duff tells of a new-born woman.
"What anticipation, when turning the key in your own front door, after a long journey, and the feeling of relief to step inside once more.'' Shirley Lingwood wholeheartedly agrees with the sentiments of the well-known song - there's no place like home.
...Father turned his hand to making and fixing almost anything. He made me a wooden doll’s cradle which I cherished for years. He sanded down and restored cupboards and other furniture which had been purchased second-hand. Raised on a farm, as well as having seen service in the Light Horse Brigade during World War 1, he was a crack shot with a rifle. We dined often on roast and stewed rabbit or hare and kangaroo tail soup. He collected the skins of foxes, rabbits and kangaroos, which he sold to augment our income. His ointments and liniments were popular with friends and acquaintances. Using his iron boot last he repaired our shoes with rubber soles and put steel tips on heels and toes. Until our shoes wore out we clicked along the concrete verandahs and wooden floors of the sandstone school...
Betty Hocking writes brilliantly of the harsh days of the Great Depression.
For many more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
"On a Spring day when the weather was forecast fair we set sail in the Curlew from St. Pierre Pill to land on Denny Island so the kids could see the seagulls nesting and maybe some seagull chicks.'' Eric Taylor goes sailing in the Severn estuary.
John Ricketts recalls the horrors of the workhouse.
... Sarah was just about to sit up when she noticed a particular cloud moving very quickly from right to left. It had the head and forelegs of a horse quite clearly, and something was forming on its back - a figure, surely, with hair streaming out behind...
Mary Cryer tells a sad atmospheric tale.
Zelda Margo’s acute social observation and economical style once again presents a telling vignette of life in modern day South Africa.
Mrs J Hewitt, of U3A Shoalhaven Third Age Learning, Australia, writes that a group meets regularly to discuss how their grandparents coped with life. Here are just a few of their reminiscences.
...After leaving school at sixteen I joined the WVS (Women's Voluntary Service), carrying out switchboard duties for the Civil Defence in one of the dungeons below the castle, sounding the siren when enemy aircraft were approaching. Many a time we watched the 'planes "dog -fighting", parachutes descending or 'planes coming down...
June Brown shares some of her wartime memories.
Playing hide-and-seek, picking and eating bilberries, paddling in ponds, catching sticklebacks – John Ricketts tells of a glorious day out with three friends when they were all nine-year-olds.
“Our great Aunt Florrie was mad, we knew it without a doubt. It was just that we couldn't get any of the grownups in the family to agree with us.’’
But Aunt Florrie is hiding a sad, sad secret, as Elwyn Frankel reveals.
“Does your marriage lack romance? Are you still the woman that he married?” On the eve of her 59th birthday Madge muses about her life in this story by Beryl Roper.
Sarah Harris recalls helping her father to build a wartime air raid shelter.
For many more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
"Yes, my earliest memories were of black beetles, ants, flying ants, silver fish and spiders in the loo at the bottom of the garden,'' says Sheila Ford.
“What if I had a heart attack,’ pilot Bill asks his wife. ‘How would you handle the situation?’ Her answer, in this story by Leila Straub, will make you chuckle.
There's a lot more to buying a door than you might think, as Barbara Patterson reveals.
Betty Hocking writes in stirring verses of her childhood home:
"Where the desert windstorms raged
In clouds of red blew for hundreds of miles.
We ate it and swept it for days.''
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
W H (Bill) Davies enjoys being in a U3A hiking group which rambles through the beautiful countryside of Gwent.
“To my shame I was taken on September 1st to a railway station in the centre of Birmingham with a label round my neck, my gas mask in its cardboard box and a bag full of sandwiches, sweets, fruit and books. A tearful mother waved me away.’’
John Ricketts became an evacuee at the start of World War Two.
Oh dear, Rose Perry. There you go again, dozing in the Creative Writing class.
Astra Warren tells a splendid tale about the day she matched her wits with the Wild One, a rebellious horse with a mind of its own.
Ellen tells a brief, haunting story.
In nostalgic mood, Nancie Dyson recalls childhood games from a fitter age.
...The gas drills were the worst, because the masks were made of black rubber, with a face piece of clear plastic, and an enormous filter over your mouth. We all looked like horrible pigs! The smell of the rubber was over powering. I used to cheat, and put my finger in the side to let in some fresh air, I wondered later how long I would have survived a gas attack... Mavis Arnold remembers going to shool during World War Two.
For more memories visit www.u3answ.org.au/remember/remember.html
Ruth Beever recalls the joy of baking days, “the warm, rich aroma of bread fresh from the oven mixed with savoury and sweet things that exuded from the windows as you went indoors; then to open the kitchen door and be enveloped in it - warm and safe with good things to come.’’
Audrey Simmons revels in the joys of owning a bike.
…Well, how did you start off in the angel business?… Shirley Long has fun imagining a conversation with an angel.
The tranpslant was a success, but.... Read Graeme's five-paragraph story. which contains a sting in its final words.
Trish Colton's poem will win a sympathetic nod from every person in Britain who has to travel by bus.
…She sat on a chair in the corner knitting woollen patches. You never ripped your clothes, or Grandma would use these to patch them. The blankets on the beds looked like patchwork quilts, they had been repaired so often. One day we actually found her patching a patch that was wearing thin!… Sybil Downs recalls her grandmother.