The Written Word Group

  I remember too much, especially at times when I would prefer a peaceful mind. Like at night, when I am tired, glad to have the luxury of a warm comfortable bed. In the darkness my head fills with memories.  I momentarily forget that you are no longer here. I vow to send you the link to the new book I have read, and for the piece of music that I discovered on Spotify. I imagine your response, our telephone call when you would deliver your reaction so that it was detailed, specific. How many times you would say,” Fuckin’ hell girl” without even realising it, especially if you loved the music or the band. We would compare and reference bands of old, once again acknowledging the paths laid down by our heroes for all future musicians. We would talk about the films we watched and find ourselves in a passionate ballet of words, everything fitting together beautifully. When you weren’t drinking and food was once again a big part of your life, we would fill the air with the ingredien...

  I remember the winter nineteen sixty three, I’d started at the local secondary modern school in the September of sixty two, it was about a mile and a half walk down to the school; and I mean down, it was about a one in six hill we had to walk down, and up again.   The deep snow and ice made for good fun, seeing how far we could slide without falling down, turning the packed snow into ice as the temperatures dropped during the nights; we could manage about twenty yards until the gritters got to work and sprayed the footpaths with their salt and grit.           We still had the school playground though and, as it sloped down from the gardens to the gate we could just about go the full length of it, until the caretaker salted a path from the school door to the toilet block, yes we had outside bogs then.   I remember one P.E. lesson where we walked down to the rugby pitch, we used the same pitch that the amateur teams played on...

I remember my dad as a big strong man. A role model. Not that he sat down with us and explained the workings of the cosmos.  He worked down the Dublin docks during the week, and was in the Pub the rest of the time. Though, I can say, I never saw the man intoxicated.  When he came back from the Pub on Saturday afternoons, he would have a rest.  Which was our opportunity to go to the local picture house. Which lay at the bottom of our street. Audie Murphy Cowboy movies where a Saturday stable diet for us. He was the most decorated US soldier from WW2. Now a Hollywood B western star. My dad would cover himself in Deep Heat. A spreadable liquid that helped muscle ache. Deep Heat had its very own pungent smell. When you combined it with the backdraft of Guinness generated wind, the aroma combination was lethal. Sometimes, that special dad aroma, will come flooding back, whenever I pass an open sewer. My dad lying in bed, his mind lost in some Celtic wonder land, was the perfec...

  A Focus Group was created, with the job of getting  a Written Word Group anthology book published in 2025. This anthology is restricted to current members of The Written Word Group. The last Focus meeting confirmed this objective.  The first order of the day was to confirm the Publishing Platform we intend to use. We all agreed Amazon's KDP would be our choice for our first published book. The book which will comprise both eBook & print on demand versions.  Will consist of contributions from our current Written Word Group members. This will be in the form of 2 stories per person. Max word count per contributed story will be 1000. 3 stories will be accepted per person, with the understanding it will be 2 stories plus a spare. The cut off date for submitting the 3 stories Will be 01/02/2025 Email address to send these to:  twwg1.focus@gmail.com Stories will need  Title: Word Count: Authors name:  Plus a short third person Bio. Submissions are to be...

He stood with his back to the fire, his shoulders hunched and brow furrowed with age and toil.   A pipe hung from the corner of his mouth its bowl clasped by a gnarled hand, his deep blue eyes stared at the dark, rain spotted window which reflected the firelight.   He was of an age where reflections of the past were as important, if not more important than worrying about the future; he took the pipe from his mouth, gave a cough, looked to his right and turned in that direction; took four steps and bent down, pulling his right hand from his trouser pocket he reached down and flicked the switch on the wall socket, the lights on the Christmas tree flickered into life. Martha’ll like that, he thought , so will the grand kids when they come tomorrow, they always come on Christmas day , he stopped and turned back to the fire   and resumed his position, pipe in mouth, back to the fire. The kids had tried to persuade him to have an electric fire instead of the log one he ...

  Willie Barlow, sixteen years old, stood in the water filed and muddy trench, his teeth chattering and his body shaking with nerves.   He was cold, tired, scared, and about to go over the top, for the first time, to meet whatever hand fate dealt him.   He’d joined the Army when the rest of his mates from the mill joined, he didn’t want to be left out so he lied about his age.   His instructors always looked at him sideways as much to say as we know that you’re too young, but you must have guts lad.           His mum had been dead against him joining up as his dad had been killed in the Boar war, miles away in South Africa; all she had to remember him were his medals and a letter from the Queen.   Fix bayonets was called from somewhere to Willie’s right, he had trouble pulling it from the webbing scabbard which hung from the belt on his left hip and then almost dropped it into the mud he was shaking so much. ...

          This is based on a true story of what happened to me when I was in the RAF.           I suppose it happened when I almost died.   I was an electrician in the Royal Air Force and stationed in Lincolnshire.   This one night it was raining quite heavily, but they were still flying.   I happened to be on duty and was called out, my mate Geordie, who was duty fitter, collected me and drove me out onto the airfield, whilst he drove he told me where we were going and why.           “The sodium lighting units aren’t working on the north side of runway zero two.   I can’t go nearer than a hundred feet from the runway.   I’ll stay with the wagon and flash my lights when an aircraft is coming in, you’ll have to run back to the wagon until it has landed.”           “Right!  ...

STRONGER TOGETHER They walked into the hotel foyer together, he reaching Reception first and handing over his ID card. “Mr and Mrs ……Sawyer?” the receptionist looked at them both inquiringly. “Oh no,” she said hastily, conscious of the colour rising in her cheeks. “No, we’re not married, I’m just his partner - business partner “. She could feel his eyes on her, mocking her, enjoying her discomfort.   A flash of fury shot through her. She had had enough of his condescending attitude. “But,” she turned determinedly towards the receptionist, smiling her sweetest smile “for this weekend we are indeed Mr and Mrs Sawyer and we will share a suite.” She had the heady satisfaction of seeing his annoying self confidence take a massive hit.  “Well, Mrs…err… Madame, that’s fortunate. There is a exhibition in town this week and we have only one suite still available and that’s the Penthouse Suite, will that be fine for you?” “That will be perfect” , Becky responded, picking up the acc...