The Written Word Group

“How is that possible?” Ana-Maria’s eyes widened in surprise looking at a school-gathering photo, taken ten years ago.    “Another gathering is well overdue.” She told herself and began planning the second reunion.   She reached for her phone and phoned her best school friend she kept in touch with after she left her homeland.  “Hi Matilde, I was looking at some photos earlier of our school reunion. I'd like to organise another one in six months’ time, at the same place we used ten years ago.”  “Oh lord, is that how long it was? That's a brilliant idea. I can help you gather the contact addresses of most of our class mates, some have moved, you know?” “Oh, have they? Sure thing. And try to get their phone number too, if you can please. I'm a bit of a geek when it comes to social media platforms. I can set up a group on WhatsApp Group Chat and send the invite there as well. That way, we won't rely entirely on the post.”  “Yeah, I agree.” ...

  “Well Mr Sandhurst failure, what can we do for you.” The Colonel was lounging behind his desk, his lackey hovering in the corner waiting for a sign from his lord and master. To all intense and purposes, it reminded me of a scene from Blackadder, that twisted TV show from long ago. Which had given the British Army a good arse kicking. “I was told to report direct to you Sir,“ I said, all ramrod stiff and proper. “Of course you were, of course you were. You’re a fuck-up like all the rest of the scum in this Re-D Division. Why don't you resign like a good chap. It would make life a lot simpler.” “Have I new orders,” I said, just ignoring the expected tirade. Jonesy had been quite correct in what to expect. “He is a fucked over bitter bastard, and he will rip into you Sir.” I was lucky to have had a chat with Sergent Major John Jones before I was thrown to the wolves. “You see he is trapped in this here Re-D, and he knows he will never get out, unless something exce...

  Next Meeting: Friday 2nd October 2026 Location: Hostal Meson Time 10.30-1pm 500 word subject: “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” Everybody who has an interest in writing or the written word is welcome to our meetup at:  Hostal Meson Arboleas, Almeria, Spain.  Back Room.

  Bravo left the tow path via the eight stone steps laid back when Victoria was on the throne and looked up at the Railway Tavern a short walk up the narrow-terraced street. “Bravo to Central, Citrep, over”. “Central receiving. Go ahead Bravo”. “Bravo. Approaching target location, two minutes. One obstacle. Will neutralise and proceed, out”. The suited gorilla standing at the entrance to the pub watched as the hiker, complete with backpack and hikers pole approached. He moved in front of the door in an obvious attempt to prevent anyone entering. “Private party pal, no entry for…..” The weighted handle of the hikers pole struck him heavily on the forehead and he crumpled to the pavement in and untidy, bleeding heap. Bravo pushed open the door and scanned the interior. It was half full of male drinkers who, to a man, ceased their conversations and looked warily at the intruder. “Hi, sorry to be a pain but I’m desperate for a loo. Two minutes and I’ll be out of your way” he looked dir...