Christmas Panto plus!

I promised to tell you when the panto was recorded. “The Wizard of Was” can now be heard on the Voice of Progress website under ‘magazine.’ There are two short pieces, one an excellent story set locally in Worthing, which take up the first fifteen minutes and then the pantomime.

The Voice of Progress are a talking newspaper  and many of their recordings are of local news but the magazines cover a variety of topics. The pantomime was written from the book which is why the shoes are silver, not red, We all had great fun making it and hope everyone enjoys it. Best Wishes to all. Julie.

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Poem -a true story

Christmas Mouse

There once was a white mouse called Poppit, whose owners were going away

They called us and said, could they drop it, for Christmas, two nights and one day.

I said that we’d have him with pleasure and find him a home in the shed

Such a cute little pet I would treasure, with his cage and his wheel and his bed.

We moved all the pots for the flowers and cleared all the tools from the shelves

Then left, to be ready for Santa – his reindeer, his presents, his elves.

Next morning I ran down the garden to see if dear Poppit was fine.

I’d left all my presents unopened for, of course, I had plenty of time.

I looked at the cage in the corner but couldn’t see Poppit inside.

Perhaps he had gone somewhere warmer, under his bedding, to hide?

But alas, he had fled, we had lost him. There was just not a sign of a mouse.

He’d escaped, you might think we had crossed him. We should have kept him in the house!

So the day that was Christmas we started to empty our old garden shed,

The contents on wheelbarrow carted, just hoping the mouse wasn’t dead.

And then, with the day nearly over and the junk on display on the grass

When we’d given up hope for the rover-he was out in the open at last!

That holiday won’t be forgotten. The mouse was returned to his home

And a day that could have been rotten- inspiration for this Christmas poem.

 

 

Strange happenings

How is it that I suddenly get ‘featured’ on my blog and an orange note that ‘sticky’ has seen it? At least, I guess that is what it means. I’m really happy if I am getting discovered but sorry not to have anything¬† brilliant to impart. I can give you another verse, however, not mine, this time, but also from our new poetry anthology, “Reflections, Then and Now.”

It isn’t there, you cannot see or feel or touch this mystery

This presence is not noticed. It passes you unseen.

Only when it’s passed one by does one know that it has been.

When it seems to travel slowly we wish it would speed up

When seemingly it travels fast then we wish that it would last.

Only when it’s gone away does one wish that it would stay.

Where, I wonder, is it bound, slipping by without a sound?

It comes up from the future and drops into the past

Moving swift with certainty- it travels to eternity.

Something which is constant, defying understanding

Which is quite unbending and seems never ending

Providing freedom from illusion in a world filled with confusion.

 

Bryan Fletton.

UK readers

Wow! It seems I am read in the UK, too. I wonder if any of you like easy reading stories based in the past- not the distant past – the 1960’s. I wrote about young love and adventure in the UK in the 60’s when life seemed full of possibilities but people were basically more innocent, when girls hitchhiked alone without fear of consequences and it was possible to afford a flat share.

The book is called “A Lesson for the Teacher” which was probably a mistake as the word ‘teacher’ puts some people off. I called it that because, as a young teacher one tends to think that you know everything and it is only when you are out in the big wide world you discover how ignorant you are, especially about men!

It is probably my last novel (of six) as I have turned to drama and poetry. I’ll try to find a cover picture.

A-Lesson-for-the-Teacher-CV-600x900
A lesson for the Teacher cover

Turbines

Across the far horizon, slim and proud

Waiting for wind to turn their bladed arms

They stand, unbending in their simple beauty

Evoking a memory of flour mills

When Jack and Jill ground corn upon the Downs

Delightful in their practicality

Their movement and their shape both treasured now.

Yet we are blind to the pure elegance

Of regiments of turbines out at sea

A blot upon the landscape, it is claimed

Yet, in the future, they may be admired

As pinnacles of artistic design

As needed as the mills of yesterday,

A symbol of man’s ingenuity.

The-end-of-the-line-for-today_s-wind-turbines-91263

 

 

Bookmarks

New bookmarks purchased, with illustrations of book covers on, rather than my photo. While I was out I bought a display stand for the events that are coming up.I may not be writing but I shall be talking and (I hope) selling, in the next few months.My next task is to find some sketches for a spring event. I have looked on line and they just don’t seem funny. I think the secret may be to make them very local and topical but I will research Victoria Wood as she was very gifted that way. We want to mix music and words and give the takings to charity.I just hope my record player is loud enough for the hall next week as I am delivering a talk that includes recordings from the Voice of Progress. I’ll have a rehearsal as I do think having to use apparatus when public speaking is dodgy.IMG_0121