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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.
Lost, Stolen or Strayed
by Tony Robinson
He or she - at the time we didn't know which - was sitting in the middle of the road at about half-past nine on a wet May evening. We had just left the country pub car park after our wedding anniversary meal, and a bedraggled bundle of wet fur barred our way. I got out of the car, and approached what turned out to be a black and white kitten. Gently I lifted it to the side of the road; by the time I had settled back in the driving seat the kitten was back in the middle of the road, immediately in front of the car. Twice more the furry creature was removed; twice more it returned to the middle of the road, advising us in no uncertain terms that a temporary rescue was not at all what it had in mind.
"We could always take it home," my wife suggested, and I agreed, trusting that Polo, our family cat, would not resent this intruder if the introduction was not too sudden Scooping the kitten from the road, I placed it on the plastic bag which my wife had spread over her lap; then I returned to the pub, leaving a our name and address plus suitable message with the bar staff before driving home. A drink of milk and a snack of catmeat, plus sleeping accommodation conjured up from an old towel and a cardboard box, persuaded the kitten that life wasn't so bad after all; but we delayed the meeting with Polo until the following day, when we also paid a visit to the vet so that the kitten could receive a preliminary health check. We learned that our male kitten was six to eight weeks old, and in reasonable condition apart from being seriously under-nourished; for his first week or two he was fed little and often until he was ready for a more normal twice daily routine. It was our older daughter's turn to choose a name for the new arrival; Major soon became a much loved family member - popular even with Polo, and was with us for fourteen years.
By no stretch of the imagination could Major be called an intellectual, for he was definitely towards the back of the queue when the Great Cat-God was giving out the brains. However, there was one regularly recurring situation that demonstrated his intelligence; if it was raining hard when we opened the back door to let him out, Major would turn his nose up as if to say, "I'm not going out in that!" Then he'd trot off to the front door and wait to have it opened for him; after all, the weather was bound to be better there!
We have always believed that instinct led him to seek shelter in the middle of the road; in all probability he had been driven out to the countryside and dumped unwanted from a car, so he needed a car to take him home again. It was our good fortune - and his - that the car he chose to carry him to safety just happened to be ours.
Copyright © 2004 Tony Robinson