ADVICE

 ADVICE

By Peter Woodgate 

He said, chill out,

Go meditate

And take no notice,

Of the lunacy

That surrounds the world today.

 

My answer to him was:

 

That I could rid my mind of those

Damn thoughts of  blind hypocrisy

And meditate instead and choose

Each one with positivity

I would be one, with greater mind

And innocent philosophy

Who slept without the worlds harsh truth

But then, that one would not be me.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

WHO IS THIS MAN?

 

WHO IS THIS MAN?

Write a characterisation based on this image. Between 500 and 1000 words.

A Day Remembered

A beautiful Spring day, and the pretty village was buzzing with activity. A stranger in the village always got noticed by the well-heeled ladies who lunch and shop at their leisure. So when Megan parked her car and started to walk along the High Street there were sidelong glances. They were discreet looks, and Megan was not at all aware. An affluent area, the hanging baskets around and about were stuffed full and overflowing with the abundance of narcissi, pansies, crocus and primroses. She had read in a magazine at the hairdressers that there was a new bridal shop recently opened that sold beautiful dresses, some handmade. She had driven the 12 miles from home to have a look. She was not familiar with the village, but liked what she saw as she started to casually stroll. Bigger than she had anticipated, the High Street had a number of well-presented independent shops. When she saw the pale pink and white paintwork of Wedding Belles, she looked in the window and was immediately blown away by the dress on display. Pure white lace and silk with such gorgeous embroidered detail, and tiny pearls on the bodice. She could not help but stand and take it all in for several minutes. The dress of her dreams. Without hesitation, she stepped inside the shop and was greeted by the young woman at the desk, adjusting pale pink roses in a crystal vase. The lighting was soft and the carpet cream and luxurious. Megan was relieved she had dressed smartly and paid attention to her clothes, hair and makeup. She felt she had stepped into another world of exclusivity, a fairytale, and was so happy. The young woman stepped forward and welcomed Megan with a smile. Megan could not think of anything to say except ‘Wow, I love your shop’ as she surveyed the velvet armchair and wedding dresses hanging on a rail under the soft light of a crystal chandelier. Feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, Megan felt a bit overwhelmed. She had waited so long for this day when she would walk into a bridal shop and be surrounded by glorious dresses in such luxurious surroundings. But she had not anticipated the strength of her emotion. 

The young woman Carolyn, was clearly pleased by the impact on Megan and, smiling, replied ‘Thank you, I have dreamed for the last two years of opening my own bridal shop. My Grandmother lives in the village, and when she told me this shop had become vacant, I knew it would be perfect. It has taken me three months to prepare and decorate, and I love it. Three hard months, as I did it mostly by myself. I do some of the sewing and alterations too, so I am a Jack, or should I say Jill, of all trades. Her tinkle of happy laughter was infectious, and Megan relaxed. Before long Megan had looked at all the dresses on the rail and asked if she could try two of her favourites, together with the one in the window. Carolyn was really helpful and attentive, giving her lots of encouragement and telling her, quite truthfully, that she looked lovely. Two of the dresses would need a little adjustment if she were to choose one of them, but Carolyn, with a pincushion on her wrist, was on hand to pin and tuck and assure her that the alterations could be done very easily within a day. Feeling more confident, Megan asked if she could try on a veil and a crystal tiara. Carolyn was immediately at her side with a selection, delighted that a sale was almost certain. Megan really did look good in her dresses and was thinking she would ask her if she could take some photos for her promotional material. Megan could not quite decide on which dress she liked most, so agreed to return the following week to try them on again.

Outside the shop, Megan was still on cloud 9 as she walked to where she had parked the car.

Sitting quietly before starting the ignition, she thought about how she had dreamt for a long time about the day she would choose a beautiful wedding dress, choose the perfect venue and reception and walk down the isle as a bride. She was still deep in her thought when her mobile phone rang in her handbag. It was her mother.

‘Megan? Where are you?

‘I’m out in the car, why? There was a pause before her mother replied

‘Because you were supposed to be back here nearly an hour ago’

‘Oh, sorry Mum, time just slipped away’

‘Well, hurry back, will you. I've been worried about you’

‘I’m OK, Mum, really I am’

‘OK, love, but hurry up so we aren’t late’

‘Late?

‘Yes, for the church..You know, Martin’s memorial service?’

Silence

‘Are you there, Megan?’

‘Yes, Mum, I’m on my way’

Megan slumped in the seat and felt her emotions rise to the surface, and she became tearful.

As soon as she was composed, Megan drove home, and her mother greeted her with a hug and a cup of tea, before they sombrely set off for the church.

Sandwiched between her Mum and Dad, Megan wept into a series of handkerchiefs passed to her by her mother throughout the service. The music and the flowers were beautiful, and Megan almost felt it could be a setting for a wedding.

After the service, she stood with her parents as family and friends came over to speak to her. She tried to make sense of it all as she heard them speak in hushed tones

‘So sorry, Megan’

‘ I’m here for you, Meg, if you need me’

‘Sorry for your loss, Megan.

‘ Martin will always be remembered love’

‘He was a good man, Megan, and loved you so much’

‘Such a tragedy Meg, he will be remembered in my prayers’

The words washed over her and taking her arm, Megan’s Mum led her to the car and home.

In her bedroom, Megan was left to rest, she seemed shell-shocked, although it had been a month since her fiancé had died in a tragic accident. They had been together six years.

There would be no one else for her, she was certain. He had always been the only one for her. She thought of the bridal shop and the joy that had been snatched away from her. She would never go back to that beautiful shop. What had she been thinking? Her dreams of being a bride would never be fulfilled. Her memories of those beautiful dresses and her joy of trying them on would be her only memory of what was not to be.

Copyright Jane Scoggins – October 2026

Summer of 69

 Summer of 69

By Jane Goodhew

Shakespeare may have written about our Winter of Discontent but for me, I prefer to remember the summer of free concerts and love in the Royal Parks in London.   It was 7^th June 1969 when four of us made our way to Hyde Park, the sun shone and over 100,000 people attended without any fights or disruptions just music, peace and love.    It was to herald the birth of the super group of rock and roll, Blind Faith whose members were like a list of Whose Who in music.

Eric Clapton guitarist, who it has been said was not happy with their performance due to lack of rehearsals.    Ginger Baker with his flame red hair was on drums, known from the Cream and Stevie Winwood vocalist from Traffic and also an organist. Then Rich Grech from the Family.   Unfortunately for them although they went individually to become famous Blind Faith only lasted a short time before disbanding.  Yet no one can take away the memories of their first ‘gig’ even if they were not sure of its success.  For those there it was brilliant.  How can anyone forget Ginger Baker with his mop of flaming red hair as he bashed away on his drums or Eric Clapton who appeared to be both unsure and yet confident in front of 100-125,000 people.  They did not perform until after 5pm but the crowd just waited patiently enjoying the lead up to it with Donovan making an impromptu appearance and Mick Jagger and his then girlfriend Marianne Faithful amongst the crowd at the back of the stage. ‘Under my Thumb’ being sung in recognition of Mick’s presence and Mick would later that year have his own concert at Hyde Park but for me this was my first and last.

                        

                                     

I do not remember the other bands although Richie Havens, Edger Broughton Band and Third Ear Band played, I have to confess I haven’t a clue as to any songs they may have sung that day or since.   I was more into Talma Motown but had gone along for the experience and will never regret doing so.   The 60s were a memorable time even if ‘they ‘whoever ‘they’ are, say if you remember it then you were not really there.   I was there throughout the whole decade but that day of blue skies, the occasional cloud, sunshine and peace was the most memorable.

The 60s were remembered by many for flower power, hippies and free love but I was still in my mid-teens and more into freedom and ‘love’ in the broadest sense of the word as I was very much one of life’s innocents.  I doubt if my parents even knew where I was as I had a fairly Victorian upbringing in many ways as my dad would turn the TV off if anyone so much as kissed which as we mainly watched The News, Panorama, University Challenge, Coronation Street and Dad’s Army in those days there was not much to offend his sensitive mind or corrupt his children!  I somehow think if he had known where I was going I probably would not have been allowed and my mother had been known to lock me in my bedroom.  Rather a waste of time as we lived in a bungalow and I was more than capable of climbing out of the window.

I can still see our merry little band as we met outside Leigh Station to get the train to London and find our way across to Hyde Park.  Until about a decade ago I thought a throng of a few thousand had attended but it was well over 100,000.  It hardly gained a mentioned in the newspapers although the DJ John Peel thought it was the best of the Free Concerts that took part in the Royal Parks.   It was almost as if it had been a hazy dream, I had worn a bright red French Connection jumper and a very short mini skirt, the love beads, long dresses and hair which I hid behind came later in the 70s.  But this was the end of the 60s and as we all packed together in the midday sun I began to appreciate how warm it was and Mick not of the Jagger fame kindly removed his bright yellow shirt and let me wear it.  

I can still remember, not every moment but if I close my eyes can be transported back there and feel the warmth not just from the sun but all those that were there that day.  The small stage swamped by the group and their equipment, the inadequate speakers which meant the noise levels were not too loud which suited me.  I sometimes wonder what became of Mick and his yellow shirt or the others that made up our little band of freedom lovers.  I know my friend Sue who I kept in touch with through the decades sadly died in 2015 but I still see her sat in the Park, smiling and enjoying the moment as I sit in my own little park with the sun shining but instead of Blind Faith I hear the song of the birds, the buzz of the bee and the hum of the lawn mower in the distance and the radio blaring out from next door but I block that out and remember that day, No Winter of Discontent for me…

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 

                                    

THE REUNION?

 THE REUNION

Marion Anthony

 Jimmy sat on the train reminiscing about the time when he was evacuated with his younger sister Alice.
The smell of the smoke from the engine brought back such sad memories of him saying goodbye to his dear mother at Paddington Station. There was commotion and confusion amongst the crowds of sobbing children and tearful mother's. It was all so daunting!

He had not only had to contend with his own sorrow but also that of his sister, Alice who was four years younger. There were of course helpers on the train that tried to console the children at this particular sad time.

Jimmy was taken by the hand and led away with a helper. He became separated from Alice. He spent four years with his adopted family and never returned home to London to be reunited with his family. He stayed in Coventry and was educated there, by the end of the war.

That was forty two years ago. He searched for Alice through different agencies and services. It was amazing how quickly he received a letter telling him that a contact had been found.

He wrote to Alice after finding her address in Leeds. Their emotions emerged in the letters they exchanged, they were heartwarming and consoling.

Now suddenly here he was at Coventry Station, sitting on a train, similar to the one that Had brought him here in 1942.

The train started off and the smell of smoke through the carriage windows, reminded him of his sorrow at leaving their dear mother. He was on his way to Leeds to meet Alice. They had been parted for the past forty two years.

He had seen photographs of Alice, her husband and three children but only Alice would be there to greet him today.
He was alone in the world now after losing his dear wife Emily to cancer two years earlier; they had no children.

The train slowed as it pulled into Leeds Station. He pulled his coat on, collected his bag and left the train…

Copyright Marion Anthony

 

Sounds…

 Sounds…  (Flash Fiction)

Len Morgan

As I waited for the bus, I listened to the sounds around me, different engine sounds as a variety of cars passed by. 

“So I said to her…”

Phut~pop~phat~Pop~phut, a small single-stroke moped engine propelled an overweight man in his twenties.  He looked slightly ludicrous in a 1950s crash helmet & goggles.

“I don’t give a shit!  Don’t contradict me when…” 

A council lorry rattled by, filled with rubble & hardcore.  Its sound rose to a deep thrumming vibration that slowly melted into the general background…

“Jody you're so Fuckin…”

Nee naw nee naw, an ambulance demonstrated the Doppler effect as it sped by.

“Don’t call me ’shit fer brains’ you moron!”

An ice cream van went by playing the music to ‘I love to go a wandering…’

Slap! “You bitch…” 

The bus arrived emitting the smell of diesel, rattle, rattle, rattle, the door slid open & I got on, followed by Jody and the moron rubbing his red cheek. I took a seat.

“The next stop will be Castlemere Drive…”

I put on my earbuds and tuned into: ‘baby you can drive my car…’

Len

THE SWINGING SIXTIES 2

 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 

By Peter Woodgate

        Today I visited the scenes of my youth.

Paused, in the playground of my dreams and recalled,

               The swinging sixties.

 

The magic of Motown the Beatles and Stones

The Mods wearing mohair the Rockers in jeans.

 

Kensington High, Carnaby Street, and

The Kings Road for clothes and shoes for your feet.

 

The fashion of Quant, the hair of Sassoon,

The “Space race” was on, who’d be first to the moon?

 

The Beehive, the Minis, both car and the skirt,

The thin pointed shoes and button-down shirt.

 

The coffee all frothy the juke box alight,

You put in your money and danced through the night.

 

In sport, so it seemed, we were on the way up,

Euphoria struck when we won the World Cup.

 

I felt indestructible was joyful not sad,

My thoughts were of good ignoring the bad.

 

For I had a future no one good destroy,

I’d grown into a man from that small timid boy

 

 

Yes there was turmoil,  assassins and war,

But life was for living, it wasn’t a chore.

 

And so as I travelled through life’s ups and downs,

I remained optimistic with smiles and with frowns.

 

But as seasons pass quickly we tend to look back,

And I wandered those streets seeking something I lack.

 

So I sat on that seat, suspended by chain,

And gently pushed back, ……….I was swinging again.

     

Copyright Peter Woodgate