Issue 388 22nd May 2015

TEN years ...

It only seems like

yesterday that a

few friends on

holiday

from Keele

decided to set up

a writers’ group

in the library ...

Picture Gallery Page 16 and 17 Lunch Gallery Page 6

2

FLASH FICTION: Random Words: same as last week

Assignment: tit for tat

Bored? COME to WORKSHOP ... Every Monday 1.30 start Rising Brook Library

Not Whit Bank Holiday Monday — Library Closed

NATIONAL LITERACY TRUST NEWSLETTER

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Wellington Boots.

They transformed footwear on the farm, in the 1940s leather tip boots were the main footwear often worn

along with leather leggings which went round the calf of ya leg fastened on with button hooks and a leather strap at the top. Or as they did in the home guard shorter canvas spats with two leather straps to buckle them on.

Our first wellies were very prone to getting punctured or torn and when this happened to both of them we cut the sole off completely leaving only the top shell of the foot and leg. These were then pulled on and the leather hob nail boots put on under them. The shell of the welly then was settled down and protected

your boot uppers from dirt, ideal when working on pulling sugar beet or cutting mangols or kale for the cows, the ground at that time of year being sticky soil which soon baulmed (my word for clogged) up your

inside of ya feet and legs as you moved about. Father had his own last on which he could mend his own and the families‘ boots and shoes, this mostly comprised of a jar full on hob nails, some were in triple form where three nails fastened together and held in

the leather sole better round the outer edges of the boot and in filled with a few rows of single nail on the ball of the foot. Round the front edge he had an assortment of tips of metal and a complete horse shoe type

tip that went completely round the heel. This had been the leather boot worn on farms for years, repaired and re-soled until the uppers started to burst from their stitches. Then shortly after wellington boots came in came the boot with rubber sole vul-

canised to the leather uppers, these were at the time called everlasting boots (a bit like when the biro ball point pen came in they were called everlasting pens). They were ridiculed and criticised at the time, often

being cheaper to buy than their original counterpart. This spelled the end for the village cobbler as all he could do for these new type of boots was to supply new leather laces.

Ode to a Welly

My wellies your wellies and kids wellies too, Clean wellies dirty wellies some there full of pooh,

New wellies old wellies some with holes right through, Country wellies town wellies, a big long rubber shoe, Shiny wellies dull wellies and coloured wellies new,

Chewed wellies torn wellies, on the bonfire threw, Smelly wellies pongy wellies some we have out grew

Wellies we can‘t do without, often must renew. Wellies large and large wellies small, of sizes there are many

Some are black some are green, and they cost a pretty penny, Some are painted in bright colours, but still ya feet they smell, Trample through the mud and ditches, through the house as well.

The kids they have them round the farm, they hold the water in,

Walking out through deep puddles, wet through to the skin, How much water they will hold, and your feet an-all, Tip them out on the door mat, make mother shout and bawl.

Ya wear them in the rain, and ya wear them in the snow,

Ya wear them in the mud, and everywhere you go, Ya keep them in the car, in case of floods you never know, Ya can‘t do without them, left behind it is a blow,

And what I‘m looking for, my WELLIES high and low

5

Gardening Tips for end of May ... Frances Hartley

First a little tip for saving water. When running the hot tap to get it hot for washing, run the cold that comes first into a bowl and then tip this into a bucket. It is surprising how much it mounts up to during the day. It can then be used for water-ing tubs, baskets, the greenhouse or even on the vegetable patch. I keep my watering can just

outside the backdoor and fill that. If you have not planted runner beans yet, dig a trench and then put a layer of two or three sheets of newspaper all along the bottom. If you are emptying the vacuum cleaner spread the contents of the bag on top of the

paper as well. This will all rot down and help to keep the moisture in. Add a little soil, then some water retaining crystals, fill the trench up with soil and water well before planting the beans in. I do this each year and usually get a good crop. This could be also done when planting courgettes or marrows. I don‘t know if I have mentioned this before, but if water retaining crystals are used in baskets and tubs it does help with the watering, but don‘t be overgenerous when mixing them in or you will think you have frogspawn all over the place when they get wet. The crystals look like sugar when dry but swell up like frogspawn or sago as they absorb water. It is always a good idea to add one or two slow release food tablets in the compost when planting tubs or baskets as well. Both the water retaining crystals and food tablets can be purchased from any garden centre or gardening type shop.

In the greenhouse I never get aphids on my tomatoes because I hang non-toxic yellow cards up which are sticky. I put up two cards in a twelve foot greenhouse. They do not give off any nasty fumes but do collect the aphids very effectively. Each card will last for whole a season. When water-ing in the greenhouse don‘t get too close to the cards though, I sometimes forget and get a hair pulled out, very careless of me! Cheerio For Now

Frances Hartley

RBW 10th

Anniversary Lunch

18th May 2015

The Vine Hotel

Stafford

The puddings

were worth writing home

about ...

10 year Photo Gallery pages 16-17

So who was Nellie Bly? And why should she be an inspiration to women journalists? Nellie Bly (May 5, 1864 – January 27, 1922) was

the pen name of pioneering American journalist Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nellie_Bly

She was also a writer, industrialist, inventor, and

a charity worker who was widely known for her record-breaking trip around the world in 72 days, in emulation of Jules Verne's fictional character

Phileas Fogg, and for an exposé in which she faked insanity to investigate a mental institution

from within. She was truly a pioneer and launched undercover investigative journalism.

Nellie Bly, trailblazing journalist and female adventurer, was born in 1864. One of the earliest investigative journalists, Bly was famous for

investigative reports on corruption and social injustice, as well as for her record-setting around the world adventure in the footsteps of

Verne's "Around the World in 80 Days." Born Elizabeth Jane Cochrane in Pennsylvania, she adopted the name "Nellie Bly" as

a pen name after a rebuttal to a misogynistic newspaper article impressed the editor so much it resulted in a job offer at the Pittsburgh Dispatch. Her early work focused on work-ing women, including a series on factory workers, again where she went undercover. She

spent six months as a foreign correspondent in Mexico but fled after being threatened with arrest for criticizing the Porfirio Díaz regime.

Seeking new adventures Bly went to New York in 1887 and took an undercover as-signment for the New York World. She feigned insanity to be committed to the New York City Lunatic Asylum on

Blackwell's Island. Her pioneering writing formed an exposé on the horrific conditions and mistreatment of patients. Bly's

articles led to a grand jury investigation and to improved care for patients with mental illness.

Now famous in 1889 she took on the assignment of replicating "Around the World in Eighty Days" voyage. The 24,899-mile journey attracted media attention and public

interest. Her travel, completed mostly by steamship and railroad, took seventy-two days, six hours, eleven minutes,

and fourteen seconds: setting a world record. Bly went on to become the president of her husband's

iron manufacturing company, receive several different pat-ents for inventions (under her married name of Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman), and worked towards improvement of

orphanages. In 1998, her name was added to the US National

Women's Hall of Fame.

The Duke of Wellington's Duel Extract from Peter Shilston’s blog ...

In 1829, while he was Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington fought a duel with a fellow-

nobleman, Lord Winchilsea. This event, which sound so extraordinary to us, was not unprece-

dented for men of Wellington's generation. Duelling had been illegal for many years, yet two

cabinet ministers, George Canning and Lord Castlereagh, had fought a celebrated duel in 1809,

in which both sustained minor wounds. In May 1798 the then Prime Minister, William Pitt

(who, it is easy to forget, was born only ten years earlier than Wellington) was challenged to a

duel by the radical M.P. George Tierney, following acrimonious exchanges in Parliament. The

two men went out on Putney Heath in the early morning, fired their pistols at each other, and

fortunately both missed. Humorists of the time had fun by suggesting that Pitt's skeletal frame

should be marked in chalk on Tierney's rotund body, with the rule that hits outside it did not

count. But King George III was most upset, and Pitt's friend William Wilberforce was furious.

Pitt himself, who was under great strain at the time, seems to have been prostrated by the ex-

perience, and did not reappear in Parliament for several weeks.

Wellington's duel came from his change of mind over the great question of Catholic Emancipation in Ire-

land. The Tory Party had long been split over the issue, and Wellington had taken the Premiership in 1828 as an

opponent of emancipation. The position was that Catholics could vote, but under the Test Acts passed back in

the 1670s could not sit in Parliament. This issue came to a head in 1827 when the Irish Catholic leader Daniel

O'Connell overwhelmingly won a by-election in County Clare. Wellington, as the son of an Irish Protestant no-

ble family, might have been expected to lead a movement to deny O'Connell his seat, but that did not happen.

In war, Wellington had always preferred to retreat rather than fight a losing battle, and he particularly dreaded

the risk of disorder and civil war. He had not been in Ireland during the terrible events of 1798, when many

thousands had been killed in an unsuccessful rebellion, but it would have been foremost in his mind. He there-

fore changed course completely and introduced a Catholic Relief Bill in 1829, permitting Catholic representa-

tion.

His more extreme Tory colleagues, nicknamed the "Ultras", were both bemused and horrified. Lord

Winchilsea was one of these. The incident which provoked the duel was, however, a comparatively trivial one.

Wellington had made a substantial financial contribution to the establishment of King's College, London, and

there had been fears that the new college would have no place for religious instruction. Winchilsea, who was

clearly not very intelligent, accused Wellington of harbouring "insidious designs for the infringement of our

liberties, and the introduction of Popery into every department of state". He suggested that Wellington had

"disgraceful and criminal" motives.

Wellington was naturally furious, and his temper was not improved by receiving from the Bishop of Salis-

bury scathing letters denouncing his policy. He wrote to Winchilsea demanding an apology, and when this was

not forthcoming, issued a formal challenge to a duel: "I now call upon your Lordship to give me that satisfac-

tion which a gentleman has a right to require, and which a gentleman never refuses to give". A duel was accord-

ingly arranged. Wellington's old military comrade Sir Henry Hardinge acted as his second, with Lord Falmouth

acting for Winchilsea; and Wellington's doctor, John Hume, was also asked to attend, bringing a pair of pistols.

The two parties met at Battersea Fields early on Saturday morning. Wellington intended to hit Winchilsea in

the leg, but missed. Winchilsea fired in the air. He then produced a letter of apology, which however Welling-

ton considered unsatisfactory. The two then parted on coldly formal terms.

Wellington was deeply angered by the whole affair, and his irritation would only have been increased by

receiving from Jeremy Bentham, the founder of the philosophy of Utilitarianism and advocate of reform, a let-

ter berating his conduct, beginning with the words, "Ill-advised man!"

This cartoon of the duel is by "Paul Pry". The sign in

the background reads, "Battersea Shooting Grounds

Grand Pigeon Match". Wellington is dressed as a monk,

complete with a rosary, and his head is transformed into

a lobster's claw. He is saying, "I used to be a good shot

but have been out of practice some years". Winchilsea is

saying, "I'll make myself up small - Gad if he should hit

me - I might be tainted with some of his Popery - wont

give him more than one chance".

The next cartoon places the duel

in the context of the ferocious disputes of the time.

It shows Wellington and his Home Secretary, Robert Peel,

in the act of "Burking poor old Mrs Constitution, aged

141". This refers to a sensational murder trial earlier in the

year, when William Burke and William Hare and their

wives were convicted of murdering lodgers at their Edin-

burgh doss-house and selling the bodies to Doctor Knox at

the university for dissection. "Mrs Constitution, aged 141"

refers to the overthrow of James II in the "Glorious Revo-

lution" of 1688, since when it had been illegal for any

Catholic to ascend to the throne or to hold government office. The writing above the picture reads, "Hark! the

Doctor Knoxcks - she is almost done and ready for you". The "Doctor" entering is a Roman Catholic bishop. The

message is clear: Wellington and Peel are about to betray the country to the Catholic church.

Despite these libels, the Catholic Relief Bill passed the House of Commons with a large majority at the end of

March 1829. The opposition Whig party was strongly in favour of the measure, though very many Tory "Ultras"

voted against. Wellington expected more problems in the House of Lords, but he delivered one of his best

speeches, arguing that there was a straight choice between reform and civil war, and won with majorities of over

100 in the various divisions. Next he persuaded or bullied the timorous and tearful King George IV (whose

health was now extremely poor) into signing the Bill into law. Catholics could now sit in Parliament. It is very

doubtful whether anyone other than Wellington would have had the prestige to have carried it through.

The Ultras never forgave him for what they saw as a gross betrayal. The pathetic King died at the end of June.

There was then a general election, in which the Tories lost ground. In November the Ultras voted with the Whig

opposition to defeat the government in the House of Commons. Wellington could perhaps have soldiered on, for

it was not in his nature ever to give up, but he had had enough of party politics, which he had never understood

or enjoyed, and he decided to resign. A Whig government took over, and embarked on a campaign to reform the

whole system of Parliamentary representation; a reform which Wellington had always totally opposed.

REFUGEES Clive Hewitt continues ....

Dawn brought a sight they'd not wished to see. The jackals had made a kill a few paces from the fort walls, the kill was hu-man. Moshe, Moab and Anep went out to look at the remains. “Not much we can do here, not today anyway,” Moab said to them. “We'll need to get this poor devil buried quickly unless we want the jackals to come back tonight.” Anep was busy revisiting his breakfast when Moshe said. “And it looks like we need to toughen our fellow soldiers up to the facts of life out here. There's not much left but get them all out to see if they can identify him. Make sure that they all come out fully armed, swords, spears, shields, and bows for those who can use one. I don't want anyone else taken by those dogs.” Anep wiped his mouth, then offered, “Commander, Fifty, I think that this man was a messenger.” “Explain,” Moab snapped out. “Reasons to think so!” Anep showed a length of tattered, blood stained, cloth that had been partly buried in the earth. “This cloth isn't local and

it's not been woven on any loom that I know about. The banding on the hem, at least it looks as if it were a hem, wasn't done anywhere along the Great River.” “You seem to know a great deal about weaving, Soldier Anep.” Commander Moshe said, “how's that?” “My parent and grandparents were weavers, Commander. I was brought up to be one until they died in a plague. My relatives had other trades and so I became a builder.” “Soldier Anep,” Moshe said. “Your next job is to get a good look at any other cloth we find and see if you can guess where it can from. I'll get everyone out here to look at him and search the area. Fifty Moab, tomorrow we hunt those jackals to extinction.” Josip and Mesab were unaffected by the corpse, Ad looked green but spotted a tell-tale detail. He called back to Moab, “Fifty! This fellow wasn't pulled down by jackals he was dead when they found him. From the looks of it he was cut down!” Moshe and Moab came across, “Soldier Ad, what makes you think that he was cut down by a sword?” Moab asked. “Not a sword, Fifty, an axe into his neck by the looks of it.” Ad turned the remains over with his spear shaft and pointed with the blade. “See! Here where the neck bones are. Any pack of jackals would tear at them, but these've been cut through not pulled apart by animals. It was a good swipe as well, that bone has been chopped through. He wouldn't have felt a thing. His Ka would have been standing before the god Ma'at and seeing the weighing of his heart against a feather for evil deeds before he knew he was dead.” “Bury him!” Moshe commanded. “Don't do anything else today, just bury him; deeply.

Inspection

“Stand to your positions!” The warning shout came from the sentries over the gate. Dropping their tools where they stood the men of the fort rushed to the arms racks, took down weapons, and ran to the walls as the gates banged shut. Moshe ran to the lookout post and peered towards the river. An ornate boat was drawing up alongside the jetty, a boat that, unless the occupants were handled correctly, could spell trouble. “Soldiers, it's an Official boat. You know what to do!” Moshe called as he hurried to change into his smartest uniform. Moab went around reminding them, “We've practised it a few times so get things right. Remember, any mistakes and it could be the end for us. Ad, Anep, Josip, you're the smartest. We're going to march down and meet the people on that boat. Keep your hands away from your sword grips and on your spear shafts; those damned jackals are about somewhere, and they've become fearless since they had that corpse a while ago. The big shields and three spears each I think.” The boat was decorated with a large fan on each end. “That spells trouble, big trouble,” Moab told them in a murmur as they got near the jetty. “Fan bearer to the Pharaoh. Related to him, and in a position of authority, maybe an Overseer of some kind.” With the boat crew busy with the mooring ropes and getting the gangway out they stood, in the shade of some handy trees, waiting for a messenger to approach. Eventually a fat man descended to the jetty. “You there, Fifty! Who are you and where's the rest of our escort,” he demanded. “The Deputy to the Garrison Troops Overseer does not like to be kept waiting.” “I'm Fifty Moab and we are your escort, sir. All of your escort, sir, ” came the answer, “The Fifty of Builders is awaiting soldiers to train and bring it up to strength. Commander of Two Hundred and Fifty Moshe is awaiting you at the fort. His

current strength is twenty-three. He has six fully trained soldiers.” “Fifty of Builders? Since when has that been in the Army?” “Not very long, sir. We are the newest unit in the Army. If you'd like to come with us we'll escort you to the fort where I'm sure that Commander Moshe will be able to answer all your questions.” “You mean walk? Where are the horses?” “Sorry sir, but we don't have horses, or donkeys.” Strictly, that was a lie, but the five they'd brought with them were out collecting the food and fire wood for the fort. “We walk. I'm sure the Commander will be able to answer your questions as to why we are short of men, equipment, and animals. Also what is likely to be the outcome when he reports these, over-sights as he calls them, to the General of the Army at the end of planting.” The threat, even voiced as a report it was a threat, took the fat man by surprise.

“Very well, Fifty. I'll inform the Overseer. Wait here!” He was back on the jetty in a short while, “Fifty. Tell your commander that the Overseer will not be inspecting the fort today. He's somewhat indisposed and may do so later. I'll inspect your men on his behalf; then we can both say that an inspection was carried out. Why do your men have those big shield and three spears each, Fifty?” Moab smiled, a grim smile, and then proceeded to lay it on thick, “Jackals, sir. Jackals. Around here they're vicious brutes that attack single humans on sight. We're slowly hunting them down and have found that the big shield helps and three spears are the least you should have. The first spear is thrown to take down the pack leaders, the second is for when they get up close, and the third is for when you've used the other two. Then it's time for the blades; and that's when that big shield comes in very handy. You get very close to each other and fight from behind them, rather like having a wall in your hand.” The fat man shuddered at the thought of getting that close to the teeth and claws of a pack of jackals. Moab wasn't finished, he now had to complete the job. “By the way, sir. The Commander charged me with informing you that it's not safe to moor to the jetty at nights. Those jackals I spoke about may pay you a visit you understand?” Moab paused and looked around as if considering. “You should be safe if you're a few paces into the river. It's safe enough with a couple of big anchor stones, or so I'm told. In the past moon we've only had one boat that had any prob-lems, and we rescued the crew that the crocodiles didn't get.” The fat man was having second thoughts. “Wait here Fifty, I'll consult the Overseer.” This time the wait was longer but when he did appear he had a scroll case in his hands. “Fifty Moab,” he said, “the overseer has decided that he is going to waive the physical inspection for the moment and continue upriver to the next fort. He charges you with delivering this certificate of readiness to your Commander.” He handed the case to Moab, who saluted and marched us away. “Yes, yes, yes,” exalted Moshe as he danced around after reading the scroll. “We're all legal and above board lads. This is our permit to remain here. I'll read it out to you. 'The Overseer of the Nubian Frontier has inspected the troops of Moshe the Commander of Two Hundred and Fifty, and the unit called the Fifty of Builders, and declares them ready. The appointment of Moshe to command is confirmed. Moshe is to promote, discipline and care for the soldiers under his command until relieved by superior authority. All officials of the Pharaoh are to give whatever assistance may be required by the unit to perform its role. It's sealed by the Overseer himself.” Moab asked the question that was on the lips of everybody, “So who's this overseer then?” “A young idiotic twerp by all accounts.” Moshe replied. “Got given the job because he's useless at anything. Sex mad, has lots of pretty girls and pretty boys, a drunk, and a glutton.” Moab said what was on the mind of everybody, “So he was too drunk to get off the boat then!” “Could well be at that time of the day. Either that or he didn't want to stop playing hide the sausage,” Moshe wasn't into pulling his punches. “His assistant, that fat man, probably does all his work for him, all he has to do is show up at the right places.” “What now, Commander?” Moab was showing Moshe more respect than he had previously exhibited. No matter how they all got there, they were now, officially, in the Army and Moshe was now, officially, their superior officer. “We hunt down and kill some jackals, Fifty Moab. I've arranged for three local hunters to help find them, but we have to do the actual killing. Spears, shields, bows and swords I think. We'll take a donkey with us to carry our food and bring back the skins and anything else we find. Choose a quiet, placid, one, Fifty. We start tomorrow just after dawn.” At the evening meal, Anep sat next to Moab and asked the question that had been playing on his mind. “Moab, Moshe seems to know a lot about lots of things that a slave couldn't possibly know. Can you guess why that is?” There wasn't even a pause in the steady rhythm of Moab’s' spoon putting food into his mouth. He nodded between mouthfuls and said, “After you've eaten bring your beer pot across to the gate. We'll find out.” The sun was well down towards the horizon as the pair went to where Moshe was sitting. He was looking over the wall towards the river and had a worried look on his face. “Moab, Anep,” he greeted them, “what can I do for you?”

Moab nodded at Anep. “The lad here, and some of the other lads, was wondering how you came to know so much about things, sir. When we was up at the tomb we was told you was a slave, but you wasn't was you?” “No Moab, I was never a slave. That was a story to hide what I was really doing there.” Moshe slowly shook his head. “You know that the Pharaoh has officials to see to the things that he can't see to himself?” Moab nodded silently and Anep grunted in agreement. “Well he's also got a kind of official to see that the officials you know about are doing what they're supposed to be doing. They never tell anybody who they are, what they're doing or how they do it, but they go about the country seeing that every-thing is being done properly. With me so far?” Anep had kept up with the explanation, Moab took a little longer working it out. “So you're one of these unofficial officials then.” Anep shook his head in amazement. “What were you doing up at the tomb?” Moshe took a long drink of his beer, sat back on his stool, and said, “Word had reached the right ears that people were going missing. Whole bunches of people. A little slave taking is to be expected and it's normally criminals and a few young that end up that way, but when whole villages of twenty families go missing then something is very wrong. I was sent to in-vestigate. You both know what happened.” “What about the overseer and the priests back at the tomb? What's going to happen to them,” Anep wanted to know. Moshe chuckled, “They're being looked after by the Charioteers of the Army. Right now they're all guests in one of the Pharaohs best fortress prisons. Unless I miss my guess they've been given the job of mucking out the stables every morn-ing and evening, plus whatever else can be found for them.” Anep laughed as he said, “Dees will be seriously put out, he never did like hard work! Mucking out stables! Oh dear, he might have to get his little hands all dirty. That's why he went to Scribe school and became a priest, he even used to get me to make his ink for him so that he didn't get dirty. He could never understand how I could keep my work clean and he could-n't.” “Anep, can you read and write?” Moshe asked. “Of course!” Anep replied, “Moab knows that. I was the one who did his copy work for him when we designed tomb walls. Why?” “You have just got yourself a job, another job rather. As well as being Soldier Anep I'm promoting you to Scribe Anep. I won't have the time to do all the writing this place is going to need, you'll have to do it for me. What do you think?” Anep thought about it. He could do the work, and, it would tend to keep him near Tao when her time came. He nodded, “You've got yourself a scribe, Commander. When do I start?” “When we get back from the jackal hunt tomorrow.” To be continued... Picture Credit Wikipedia — Donkey image from Circa 1250 Before Christian Period

How many

of these

are you

willing to

give up?

What's coming up this May?

Well, we start this year's festival with a special fund -raiser for Claire House! Chris Tarrant - An Audience, hosted by John Gorman, in aid of Claire House at Westbourne Hall, West Kirby on Saturday 30th May 2015 at 7.30pm. Tickets £15. A free-ranging conversation about life as a media personality with some stories about TISWAS! Chris Tarrant OBE is a well-known British radio & television broadcaster and media personality. Mean-while Tickets are on sale for all festival events including Polar Bear, Floral Pavilion Blue Room, Sunday 5th July 2014 at 7.30pm. £13.50. Twice-nominated for the Mercury Music Prize, Polar Bear have forged a reputation for themselves as one of the most exciting groups on the contemporary music scene. Craig Ogden & Miloš Milivojević In concert at Hoylake Chapel, Wednesday 8th July7.30pm. £12.Favourite classical Gui-tarist Craig Ogden returns to Hoylake bringing with him Serbian accordion maestro Miloš Milivojević. Roger McGough As Far as I Know, Hoylake Community Centre, Saturday 11th July 2015 at 7.30pm, Tickets £15. For adults & 14+, followed by booksigning. Seats are limited for this popular event Other May events

You can participate in the Heats for the Radio Playscript Competition. At each heat, 3 or 4 playscripts will be performed by the Wirral Community Theatre, and the audience will be asked to vote to decide which script is taken through to the finals on 1st July when the panel of judges will be: Billy Butler, Johnny Kennedy and Gareth Jones. Heats take place on 15 &16 May and 22&23 May at Hoylake Science Church at 7.30pm (Admission free). If poetry is your scene, get involved in one of the Poetry Fusion workshops on 10th and 23rd May at Wirral Arts Centre (£4). Competitions The Festival runs competitions to encourage and inspire new work. May is the month to check out this year's Competitions in Art, Poetry and Photography and get your entries in! All competition entries need to be in by 1st June 2015. The Festival Proper 27th June - 12th July The Festival team is busy preparing for another lively, packed programme of events. Download our programme to know everything! One of the special attractions will be the Festival Parade and Festi-Velo on 4th July running from Corona-tion Gardens, West Kirby to Goose Green, Meols via Hoylake's Market Street - the parade is run to increase footfall in West Kirby, Hoylake and Meols, and to raise money for Claire House. Can you help to sponsor this event? If you can pro-

vide any support large or small please email us at info@festivaloffirsts.com

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Shakespeare's Sonnets is a collection of 154 sonnets by William Shakespeare which cover themes as time, love, beauty and mortality.

First published in 1609 in quarto with the title: SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS. Never before imprinted. (Although two sonnets had previously been published in 1599 in The Passionate Pilgrim)

The quarto ends with "A Lover's Complaint", a narrative poem of 47 seven line stanzas written in rhyme royal. The first 17 poems, ―the procreation sonnets‖, are addressed to a young man urging him to marry. Other sonnets brood on loneliness, death and the transience of life. Source Wikipedia.

Latest Competitions: Ambit Summer Writing Competition 2015 | Closing Date: 15-Jul-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1758 Buzzwords Open Poetry Competition | Closing Date: 23-Aug-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1757 2015 Thynks Publications Poetry Pamphlet | Closing Date: 31-Dec-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1756

Latest News: #Afterhours Blog 11 | 08-May-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/news/library/?id=1331 Items added to the Poetry Library in April 2015 | 07-May-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/news/library/?id=1330 Nay Rather by Anne Carson | 06-May-15 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/news/acquisitions/?id=1329

What would you do if a little lad collapsed while playing football? What would you do if a girl collapsed during a tennis game? What would you do if an old chap was lying on the floor of a supermarket? You get the idea ... TWELVE youngsters a week in Britain die because of Sudden Adult Death Syndrome and the hearts of many more older folk suddenly play up ... The paddles of a defibrillator being close at hand could help in many of these life threatening situations ... Rising Brook Baptist Church in conjunction with a charity has raised enough money to buy a public access defibrillator ... But to make it ‗public accessible‘ they need a couple of hundred quid to pay for the wall housing it is to be secured in. Donations can be made at the church: mark donations Public Access Defibrillator or there is a website. If you are a school governor/PTA member perhaps you could enquire if your school has a defibrillator ... You might be saving a child‘s life. (SMS)

Rising Brook Writers 10th Anniversary

According to the Charity Commissioners, RBW mission is to advance the education and develop-ment of senior and disabled citizens in Stafford in the field of creative writing by the holding of creative writing workshops and the publication of resultant material.

Background: The founders of RBW met on a Keele University Creative Writing course in Sept 2004. The writers' group was formed at Rising Brook Library in April 2005. RBW rapidly pro-

gressed into a registered charity and group activities have expanded each year, providing oppor-tunities in a library workshop and online bulletin every week, as well as an annual poetry collec-tion, short story collection, jointly written farce and poetry performances.

The charity's service users, (local people who support the aims of the charity) are a willing band numbering around sixty published, self-published, web-published and unpublished authors -

playwrights - poets - bloggers - journalists - feature writers - biographers - editors etc and those who simply enjoy creative writing as a means of self-expression. No prior experience is neces-

sary to join our workshops.

Set up in 2005 a small group of Trustees have roles in delivering the aims of the charity. In 2013 ―Friends of RBW‖ ensured writers of all ages could join in with our projects and community work-

shops.

Drama Day

Gatehouse Recordings

Poetry

Drama Day

Poetry Day

County Show

Gatehouse

Join us on a wander down memory lane.

Looking back it‘s really

hard to believe RBW teams did so much, and this is just a tiny

fraction of RBW events and community

workshops. 1st Poetry Collection

1st Jointly Written Book

Memories Workshop

Heritage Event

Ghost Hunting Field Trip

High House Book Launch

County Show Stand

Memories Workshop Stone Memories Workshop

Royal Oak Book Launch

Memories Workshop

Library Group 2006

Fantasy Fiction

Workshop

Main Library Book Launch

Car Boot Stall Holiday Memories

Silkmore Memories

Community Day

Littleworth Performance Xmas Lunch

Mincepie Monday Xmas Lunch

If you are a subscribing email recipient to leave RBW Online is easy just email and say ‘unsubscribe’ and you will be immediately removed from the list. If you have any suggestions for improvement to this service please let us know. You don't have to take an active part to receive this workshop bulletin you can just sit back and enjoy the ride, but if you could send feedback, it is greatly appreciated. RBW Privacy Promise: A few simple contact details are all that are required and they will only be used for this bulletin service. RBW promise to:

Only send you details via the newsletter.

To never pass on your details to anyone else.

To always allow recipients to opt-out and unsubscribe at any time.

www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk

To contact RBW please use the website contact box.

PATRON Ian McMillan www.ian-mcmillan.co.uk

Present and Previous Memberships and Funders.

Rising Brook Writers strives to be compliant with the requirements of the Data Protection Act. RBW strives for accu-

racy and fairness, however, can take no responsibility for any error, misinterpretation or inaccuracy in any message

sent by this mode of publishing. The opinions expressed are not necessarily in accordance with the policy of the char-

ity. E-mails and attachments sent out by RBW are believed to be free from viruses which might affect computer sys-

tems into which they are received or opened but it is the responsibility of the recipient to ensure that they are virus

free. Rising Brook Writers accepts no responsibility for any loss or damage arising in any way from their receipt, open-

ing or use. Environment/ Recycling: Please consider carefully if you need to print out any part or all of this message.

To the best of our knowledge and belief all the material included in this publication is free to use in the public domain,

or has been reproduced with permission, and/or source acknowledgement. RBW have researched rights where possible,

if anyone’s copyright is accidentally breached please inform us and we will remove the item with apologies. RBW is a

community organisation, whose aims are purely educational, and is entirely non-profit making. If using material from

this collection for educational purposes please be so kind as to acknowledge RBW as the source. Contributors retain the

copyright to their own work. Fiction: names, characters, places and incidents are imaginary. Any resemblance to actual

people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

This bulletin is produced by volunteers. The editor’s decisions are final and not open to discussion.

© Rising Brook Writers 2015 — RCN 1117227 A voluntary charitable trust.