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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.
The Waiting Room
by Phyllis Handley
The staff nurse suggested I should go and wait in the day room, and promised to come and tell me as soon as Emma returned from theatre. She also said someone else was in there, but I wasn't listening. My only concern at that moment was my granddaughter who had suddenly been admitted to have a caesarean operation.
"Everything would be all right" staff assured me "It was only because the baby was showing signs of distress and your granddaughter is so small that 'They' decided a caesarean would be best. The sister has gone with her to theatre, so try and not worry too much as it was a common operation these days."
A woman who looked about my age already sat in the day room and was holding a gift wrapped parcel on her knees. She looked up when I entered, smiled and said "Hello." I sensed that she felt relieved to see someone, so I tried to smile and returned her greeting. Then deliberately walked to the window and stood with my back to her and stared out at the low maintenance garden with it's boring evergreen bushes.
She came and stood by me and must have thought I wanted to listen as she talked about Kevin her grandson. Evidently she thought he was up to no good. Had often said "How could a nineteen year old warehouse man afford all the things he bought, and take his girl friend on holiday to Spain, but nobody listened to her. It turned out he was a pusher, not a taker, which according to the judge was the more evil of the two and sent him to prison for three years. Why couldn't he have been an ordinary common thief, or something? Not selling drugs. I don't think his mother will ever get over the shock of it all."
I really did try to give her my attention but it was too difficult so I smiled and nodded my head and something about "If the truth was known, every family has their fair share of problems with the youngsters of today."
My problem was now, Emma, my seventeen year old grandaughter giving birth to my illegitimate great grandchild. I shouldn't be here on my own. Her parents, my son and his wife should be here as well. Of course Emma knew the minute she packed her bags and left home that she could come and stay with me. It was like a scene from some old weary black and white film. A small pregnant waif, clutching a holdall, stood on my doorstep in the pouring rain.
I tried to mediate between them all but it wasn't any good. Just a battle of wills and neither would give in. Emma some how managed to keep her "Bump" hidden until she was seven months before telling her parents she was engaged and pregnant. How did she expect them to react? Of course they hit the panic button and shouted.
The staff nurse invited us to follow her, we could go in now. The baby, a girl, was all right but just as a precaution had been placed in an incubator. Emma was fine and already asking for something to eat.
Who was this other woman standing by me? I didn't know her and not wanting to ask or make a fuss, just made sure I kept ahead all the way to the ward.
Emma didn't look fine - the word should have been radiant. For a few seconds I enjoyed a wonderful excuse to give her a big hug, cuddles and kisses. There was me who had been worried to death and all she says "It was easy peesy Nan."
The other woman put her present on the locker and gave Emma a kiss.
"Do you two know each other?" Emma asked.
"No." I said "We just met in the day room."
"Oh well in that case Nan allow me to introduce you to Mrs Mason - she is my fiance's grandmother. I asked the sister to phone you both because I didn't want to be alone."
"Actually, we have met before." Mrs Mason said "It was years ago, during the war we went to the same school. I was Sylvia Green then. My brother and me were evacuees from London and lived with Mr and Mrs Mason."
"I know a Malcolm Mason who was in my class. He owns a garage just outside town."
"I married him." Sylvia said "When we returned to London our house was a bit lopsided from the bombing, but it was better than nothing. So every chance I had I would return to the comfort of Ma Masons. Then when Malcom went to do his National Service I wrote to him and we went on from there. Yes. I knew our Kevin was the father, so I do have a right to be here, because this baby is also our great grandaughter."
"Sorry" I mumbled "But you know how it is with family......"
"Will I be family again Nan." Emma interrupted.
"Of course you will. Your dad has my genes, so he won't hold a grudge for too long and remember they both still love you."
She turned her head away, and I thought she was going to cry but suddenly she was smiling. "It looks as if your genie has been let out of the bottle Nan."
I looked through the ward sister's window and could see her parents smiling as they talked to the midwife. Seconds later my son and his wife came hurrying down the ward.
Now I've always said a good grandparent should know when to stand back and keep out of the way. Sylvia smiled at me and we both knew it was time for us to leave.
Copyright © 2004 Phyllis Handley