25. Oct, 2016

A Dotty Collective

We're members of an intimate writing group. We meet Friday mornings once a month and we love it! We're the Bordon (Hampshire) Writing Group, we meet in the library and we pay £1 for coffee and bics - choc ones if we're lucky (I can't. I'm on a diet. More of that later...). Our group is made up of past members of another group we all belonged to - exception being Husband who came along to support Yours Truly when I was ill, and now loves it (Well, waddya know?)! We're a cozy, intimate lot, six or more of us, and there's a certain ambience there. Slightly dotty, eccentric, what you will. Three of us I met at the writing group I was expelled from (more of that later, too...). Jilly, a tall, stylish lady, started it (I've adopted her as my older sister. She's lovely.) And there's Bing, a big Italian/Welshman with a booming, brilliant singing voice. He's a creative scientist and renaissance man who loves us. we love him, too. Then there's Denise, the first person I spoke to at our old group over ten years ago. She's quirky and writes poems and articles containing words I don't understand.

We've acquired two new members. Mardie, a lady who I know will fit in with no problem whatever, and Moses. He's coal black and extremely clever. Husband, whose brain is the size of a planet, got talking to him on the subject of physics. No problem. I like physics - I've learned a lot living with Husband for thirty-six years. Meeting new people in this way is brilliant. Love it!

In the last session, we read out various pieces. All interesting. All different. Husband and I also read out Remembrance pieces. It's a local writing competition, Field of Poppies, and obviously centres around the subject of remembrance, your choice, maximum 150 words. And here's my submission:

My Mother the Listener

She'd always said that she'd been the lowest of the low. When I found out in recent years what she'd done, I was surprised.

In 1942, a photograph of a group of WRENS in front of their quarters, Hotel Cecil in Scarborough, shows her cap askance further than any. Figures. Dad loved his strong, stubborn birds.

My recent reading matter concerned Bletchley Park's listeners (as in the Enigma Machine). Fascinating. Since then, I discovered that Pammy - as she preferred to be known – had been a listener at Scarborough. She'd described being in front of her radio, earphones clamped to head, hands clamped to phones, face lowered, eyes closed, listening intently for signals. You intercepted a code, shot your arm up and shouted for the duty officer. Didn't happen often.

Lowest of the low? I beg to differ. Just her way of keeping mum.

 

The other item is a silly poem about social media:

 

I.T. and All That

 I have a small confession

 it really is quite sad.

I love Facebook very much

                                                                         of which I am quite glad.

 I have a zillion 'friends',

 I do click 'like' a lot.

 I check my page to see what's there,

 and always who said what.

 People love or loathe Facebook

 can't say I blame the latter.

 It often can get really silly,

 with lots of boring natter.

 'Just going to the loo.' Says Fred.

 He's posted lunch on-line.

 (The photo is rather colourful -

 roast pork on which he'll dine).

 The 'like' is not a good idea,

 'My auntie died last Sat.'

 Poor old Jane just posted this,

 and all her 'friends' 'like' that.

 People 'share' a lot of stuff.

 Films of pets gone potty.

 Have they nothing else to do?

 Now certainly that's dotty!

 Rubbish news can get around.

 'Kate and Wills to split!'

 This screams out from the page,

 I was shocked I must admit.

  Naturally it wasn't real,

 I've seen nothing since,

 Goes to show what folk believe,

 Me too – it makes me wince!

 But I do love Facebook.

 I keep up with my friends.

 And cuz I hate the telephone,

 and notes I hate to send.

 I know the folk who hate it

 think everything's on show.

 That nothing will stay secret

 and all the world will know.

 But I always say to them,

 you can just 'message' stuff.

 Then all secrets stay that way,

 .and that is good enough

 Do not 'follow' silly folk,

 and only friends you like.

 Some people follow everyone,

 like that man called Mike.

 When I go out with Husband,

 he 'signs': 'Coffee with Jo Bennett'

 We're at a cafe in Waterloo,

 discussing America's senate.

 Now I'm a blogger too.

 That name just isn't rude.

 From Facebook to a public life.

 (I'm Twittering as I should!)

 Another thing is Pinterest,

 I love that equally,

 type in what you fancy

 lots of lovely things to see.

 There is also Instagram

 another thing enjoyed.

 For peoples' umpteen photos

 a great site that's employed.

 There's Google plus and Twitter.

 The latter I'm enjoying.

 I think that's probably enough,

 of my IT employing.

 If I'm not very careful,

 I'll be stapled to the screen,

 Tut, tut. No more. Go out -

 and find myself caffeine!