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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 Promise
by Susan Davidson
Thirsty, oh so thirsty - got to have a drink. Water - yes that's it. Cold, pure water. I need to cleanse myself. What is that taste in my mouth? Jesus, it's disgusting - what on earth did I have to eat last night? I must have got the munchies after all those beers. Yes, that's right, I remember now, bottles and bottles of ice-cold lager - it tasted so good at the time. And then the traditional kebab - "Yes, plenty of chilli sauce please darlin', I like it hot!" Oh God, I swear I will never eat a doner kebab again. I don't think I've ever eaten one sober.
Now, if I could just get up to pour that glass of water I - OH-BLOODY-HELL-MY-HEAD! What time is it anyway? Must? focus? eyes?oh, 9.30, not too bad then. Take it easy girl; take it easy? there - sitting up. Almost human. Oh dear, still wearing last night's clothes?scummy? very scummy indeed. Ah well, at least I took my boots off.
Oh no, getting flashbacks?. I've got a bad feeling about this. It usually means I've unintentionally:
Insulted someone quite badly
Snogged someone completely unsuitable
Been sick somewhere other than a loo
Flashed part or parts of my anatomy which should have remained covered in company
Done my party trick
What the hell was it this time? Think? think? what? I remember feeling very pleased with myself, and Shaz trying to stop me from doing something? but what?
OH - MY - GOD
JesusMary&JosephandallthesaintsinIreland
It's today. I've got to do it today. I remember seeing the nun walk into the pub. We were all absolutely certain it was a strip-a-gram, I mean, what would a real nun be doing in a pub? We did think the sling was a bit odd. And as she came closer she had obviously been crying. Something rose up in me - reverence for the habit, Christian charity, 5 bottles of Becks, I don't really now. "Are you alright, love? Do you want a seat?". Shaz looked at me like I'd just fallen from the sky.
"Oh bless you my child," she said, even though she can't have been more than five years older than me. "I'm afraid I have a heavy heart tonight. I should have been doing the parachute jump tomorrow to raise money for the children's hospital, but I went and broke my silly arm this morning when I fell on the abbey steps."
"Oh well," says I, "never mind sister, I'm sure your sponsors would still be happy to give you the money".
"Oh no, I couldn't do that, absolutely not - I shall have to give every penny back. Oh those poor little children. Suffer the little children, our Lord said, but I don't think he had this is mind, and it's all my fault!"
She began to cry again. It was really pitiful. Honestly, anybody would have done the same if they'd seen her like that. Well anybody with a slightly over developed sense of heroism when they are half-cut. I did it. I can see it now as if I am watching myself in a film. "Don't worry sister, I'll do it for you" (Shaz tugging at my arm as I stood up, tall but a little wobbly in my stiletto boots) "those poor little kids will get the money they need, I'll do the jump!" And her face lit up like an angel. Well, like a picture of an angel. I mean, I've never seen a real one.
So, at precisely 2.00 pm today, I will be jumping out of an aeroplane. I, Debbie Martin, with my fear of heights, my uncoordinated unfit body and tendency towards clumsiness.
No. It can't be done. It's pure madness. That promise wouldn't stand up in a court of law. I can't get on to a plane, stone cold sober, and jump out at a great height, of my own free will. It is just not going to happen. There's only one thing for it - I've got to make a phone call.
Bip bip bip bip bip bip drrrrr-drrrrr drrrrr-drrrrr drrrrr-dr - Hello Shaz - the pubs are open in five minutes - and you've got to get me drunk before 2.00 o'clock - it's for the kids!
Copyright © 2004 Susan Davidson