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Meetings are held on the first and third Tuesdays of the month at Dancox House Club Room, St Clements Gardens, St Johns, Worcester from 7.30 pm to 9.30pm.
If you want to know more about Worcester Writers' Circle, please telephone Sue Round, Secretary 01905 619062.
Probably the oldest writers' circle in the country, we have grown from half a dozen enthusiasts in the dark days of the Second World War, to a thriving and productive group of people who share their experiences, successes and pitfalls at each meeting. We have a wide range of writers, some published professionals, some occasionally appearing in magazines, and many newcomers eager to see their name in print.
At a normal meeting, we read from our work, sometimes on a theme set for the evening and we offer advice and reactions. A cup of tea and a chat of course, and discussions about markets, successes and rejections. Sometimes we have a speaker from amongst our ranks, or a guestjoining us for the evening. Our interests are wide - stories, Westerns, nostalgia, poetry, biography, roofing and cats have all featured at our meetings. If you can get to Worcester, (that's the one in Worcestershire, England) give us a try.
A Pet Called Rover
by Tony Robinson
Has anyone seen Rover? He seems to have wandered off again. Oh well, I suppose he'll turn up when it's time for supper.
OK, so the family has passed through the beginner's stage of petmanship where the pet goldfish is called Bubbles, the pet hamster rejoices in the name of Hammy and the pet budgie answers to Joey. Persistent pester power has resulted in the arrival of the family's first puppy; but how to choose a name? In fact, does the dog need a name? After all, you could always bring the animal to heel by calling "Here Dog!" However, the family disapprove of this idea, so the great name hunt begins.
First, the traditional names to do with rank or status - King, Rex, Duke, Prince, Captain and the like - with of course their politically correct alternatives of Queenie, Duchess, Princess and so on. Often these are unsuitable; have you ever met a dachshund called Rex?
You could of course name a pet because of some particular characteristic such as coloration or markings; hence Patch, Spot, Ginger, Sandy, Misty or Smoky. One especially excitable Boxer puppy that I used to know was very soon named Struhan, the Gaelic word for a stream - no comment.
Many sheep farmers appear to have a simple answer to the naming problem: each working dog in succession has the same name, so that it is always Meg who helps to move the sheep.
And what about cats? In keeping with their usually cosy image, cats seem to attract much more obviously affectionate names than dogs; Tibby, Blackie, Fluffy, Mitzi, Sootie and Snowie. Also, cat owners seem more ready than dog owners to attempt some form of wit in their cat names; among those I have encountered are Chairman Miaow (not original but rather clever all the same) and two brothers who were known as Tut 'n Khamun. In one house that I used to visit, the five cats did have their own names, but at feeding time
it was only necessary to open the back door and shout "Jackson!" and five cats would come scampering home for supper.
Our pets have their own language - but of course they speak our language also, for which of us has not had a chat with our pet, where we happily take both sides of the conversation? "It's beef and heart meaties for supper tonight, Puss -1 hope you'll be happy with that." "That's fine, Dad - and don't forget the milkies too." Sometimes their grammar is a little stilted; "I wented out, and now I has corned in;please to be quiet, 'cos I
did be going sleepies." Because our pets are special, they expect special treatment - indeed, they take it for granted. You or I would say that we took the cat to the vet yesterday; our cat, however, would say that she consulted her medical advisers. Well, we all do it, don't we?
Of course, our pets need not be living, in the literal meaning of that word. Which of us, for example, has not given a pet name to a first car or motorbike? When my brothers and I were teenagers, a variety of elderly vehicles passed through our usually grease-stained hands; I recall Dracula, Eeyore, Tyn y Macs and Thunderpants, to name but a few. Most of these were subjected to frequent amateur surgery and the laying on of hands in order to breathe temporary life into them. Even the humble pushbike had its own name and its own personality; one of the family bikes was known as Charity, because it was not puffed up.
However, as the French say, to return to our sheep. Now that I've moved to a small flat, where the landlord doesn't allow pets, I have to keep my companions a secret. I'll just have another look for Rover; ah, mere he is; naughty boy, he was under the settee. You know, it's quite fun keeping snails.
Copyright © 2004 Tony Robinson