July 2011 theme and competition entries

[Ron Blanco 10]

July theme & competition: Skoolz Aht!

Set by Lady Agatha

 

As every parent knows, the long school summer holidays are almost upon us. Those never-ending summer 6 weeks are something that we’ve all experienced, and the memories will remain with us throughout our lives. When I was 5, we moved from the Norfolk Park flats to the new estate at Waterthorpe. This was in the late 1970s, before Crystal Peaks and Drakehouse were even thought of. My childhood summer holidays were therefore spent playing in the Ochre Dyke before it was filled with shopping trolleys and roaming around the fields without a car park in sight. As Mum worked, sometimes I went to my Nan’s and had peaches and cream in an old fashioned deck chair. Once or twice I went with my bus driver Dad for the day – he gave my a two pence ticket in case the inspector got on and sat me in the luggage rack.

 

I’d like to see some short stories which involve children on their 6 weeks holiday. This could be a dramatised version of one of your own memories, or a piece of fiction told from the point of view of a child. Have fun with it and resurrect your inner child!

 

Lady Agatha

 

TO ENTER: Competition entries of 500 words or less should be posted on this thread. If you prefer to write a longer story, outside of the competition, then please post it in a new thread with both the title and 'July 2011' in the heading.

 

JUDGING: Lady Agatha will judge the entries, and will announce the winner in early August.

 

THE PRIZE: The prestige of becoming the SFWG Competition Winner AND the opportunity to choose the writing theme for September 2011.

 

COMPETITION PROTOCOL: All writers enjoy receiving feedback, be it high praise or constructive criticism, but in the interests of competition decorum, please could we ask you not to post your comments on individual entries until after the winner has been announced. After that, please feel free to let rip with as much feedback as you like!

 

Any problems posting/uploading your piece, please consult the guidance 'stickies' at the top of the Forum page. If you still have problems, please contact either Tallyman or Ron Blanco.

 

Have fun!

 

Ron

[greg2 10]

THE HOLIDAYS GO ON FOREVER

Jane was looking forward to the summer holidays. She would get away from Liam Jones, who punctuated her schooldays with taunts of “Plain Jane always the same.” But more than that, these were going to be the holidays when she grew up.

Jane’s Mum had said that when she finished Year 9 she could choose her own hairstyle. As she walked down the hill from school at the end of the last day of term, she considered again the choice between a Kate Middleton style or something bigger, like Beyonce. Suddenly her schoolbag was dashed to the ground as Liam shot past on his one pedalled mountain bike. Jane heard his “Plain Jane always the same,” and the sniggers of other boys, as she bent to retrieve her bag.

Then there were clothes. A trip into town with saved up birthday money and Tracey from class, who was not as much of a mate as Sarah but who knew about grown up clothes. Jane was particularly pleased with her biker jacket. She had just got off the bus with her bags when “Plain Jane always the same” rang out from across the road. Liam spat on the ground and rode round the corner into the street where he lived, in a house where the curtains were always closed.

Nonetheless it would be a very different Jane who returned to school at the end of the holidays. And the change would not be ruined by Liam. It had been easy to bump into Liam in the park and tempt him to the old container on the other side of the railway line. As they walked to the container Liam had suddenly started to talk – about Manchester United, about why his bike had only one pedal, about his younger sister who was in care because his mum couldn’t look after her. Jane had asked him to wait in the container while she got ready, then quickly bolted the door shut. He would learn a big lesson by the time she let him out the next day.

She got home to a whirlwind of excitement. “Jane where have you been we’ve got this fantastic holiday on lastminute dotcom the last week of the holidays in Spain for next to nothing, you must pack, the taxi will be here in half an hour” said her mother breathlessly.

In the container that night Liam was hungry and cold. The next day he resumed his efforts to attract attention, but again no one responded. By the third evening – or was it the fourth – he was desperate. Surely they would come looking for him? But was there anyone who cared? In the dark cold, in the smell, in his hunger, in his panic, Liam began to cry.

Jane returned from Spain a little anxious, but found no one seemed to have missed Liam. After a few days the teacher removed Liam’s name from the register. Some families are always moving.

[De Batz 10]

I like the holidays. They are a time of quiet, of peace. The brief interlude during which I can reflect quietly on the goings on of the year, before a new year begins and the time for reflection ends. It is an odd thought that when school recommences in September, the faces – except for a few of the eldest having gone, replaced by younger, fresher models – will be the same, but different. Many will proudly display the brown-faced badge of the foreign sun holiday, some will have already lost their glow and begun losing the outermost layers of their skin.

I heard a conversation between two teachers the other day, and I confess that I was a bit perplexed as to the attitude of one of them. The argument revolved around the question of whether a school was defined by its buildings, its location, its physical presence in the community, or rather that it was really a collection of teachers, pupils and so on. The participants in this rather philosophical (for a Friday lunchtime) discussion held two contrary notions of 'school', one of which now seems to me to be so obviously wrong I can't even imagine why a teacher – who in general seems to be right about most things – would think that way.

I remember hearing someone – it may even have been one of those same teachers – talking about how one cannot stand in the same river twice. This seems to be the same point: if a school is composed of its members, then it ebbs and flows through the year, and changes irrevocably when staff and pupils leave to be replaced by others. I confess that my attitude to this is rather attached to my own history, although others with different experiences would say otherwise. I know of a few in Sheffield, for example, who would have to say that the school is wherever and whatever people say it is, but there are others who would argue for the persistence of a school through time, despite people's attitude to it.

A long time ago, if you'd asked me, I might have agreed with those who say that the school is defined by its buildings. But having been moved so much from one place to another, I'm not sure I agree. My own history might not stand on its own as enough to prove my point, but a school doesn't have much to do with its physical footprint. It really does change, depending on who is part of it, though much like a person the blurred fringes do not much affect its identity. The people, and in particular, the students, they're what make a school.

I should know. I've seen so many...

 

LM 2011

[Ian Rivedon 10]

Skegness—It’s Not So Bracing

 

It was 1957, yet I still recall the abject feeling of abandonment as I stared through the window of the old Austin Seven as it pulled away from where my worried mother stood waving goodbye. My earlier excitement at the thought of our holiday at Skegness had evaporated with the news that I would not be traveling on the train with my brother and sisters. My mum and dad had agreed to a moneysaving offer by their friends Fred and Stella Shenland, who were accompanying us on holiday. One of us—me—would travel with them in their old Austin Seven.

 

I was only seven, and like a lamb going to slaughter until I was crammed sobbing into the back seat of the tiny old banger with Fred and Stella's two sons, both of whom I detested, and Spike, their loveable and exceptionally hairy dog. Spike made the journey tolerable, and a good job he did, as we were delayed for hours when, inevitably, the Austin broke down in deepest Lincolnshire. Fred was able to do no more than peer helplessly at the silent engine. Eventually, a very posh man in a red convertible sports car stopped. He went to get help, and an AA patrolman riding a motorbike and sidecar subsequently pulled up beside us. He looked like a soldier in his khaki uniform, long black boots, and black peaked helmet, and I was very impressed when he saluted us as he dismounted. He eventually had the old car chugging away again, and we received another salute as we pulled away to resume our journey.

 

We arrived at the caravan site four hours later than planned, my poor mother almost in hysterics wondering what had happened. Fred, it seemed, had no sense of direction, and we had become lost several times, even within yards of the campsite. My dad had told him that the site was close to the Linga-Longa Cafe, but despite the cafe's renown, Fred couldn't find it, and none of the people he stopped to ask had heard of it either.My joy at being reunited with my family was short-lived. My brother David wiped the smile from my face with his breathless description of the train journey, so I pleaded with my dad that I had done my bit and that David should be in the car for the journey home. The answer was no, my status as oldest child counting against me for once. The thought of another dreadful journey with the Shenland family hung over me for the rest of the holiday.

 

I recall that it was hot that week, and I presume we had a good time, but I remember virtually nothing except for the journey there and back. Oh—and of being stung on the lip by a wasp that was attracted by the smell of a cheese sandwich that Stella handed to me at the beach one day. I haven’t eaten cheese since, and I’ve never returned to Skegness either.

 

IR 31/07/11

Edited July 31, 2011 by Ian Rivedon

[Tallyman 10]

Thank you for contributing to July's competition. Lady Agatha will peruse, cogitate and emerge from her deliberations in due course. Watch this space!

 

Tallyman

[Lady Agatha 10]

I've emerged!

 

greg2: This was a good evocation of the concerns of a school girl - and a genuinely shock ending. A great little story.

 

De Batz: An interesting philosophical piece. The summer holidays are indeed a good time for reflective pause. I always make my resolutions in the summer holidays rather than the busy New Year.

 

Ian Rivedon: Is this an autobiographical piece? If not you have captured the essence of a long past journey well. You've also captured just how things that seem such a trivial detail to adults take on a huge importance to a child.

 

I enjoyed all 3 of these pieces and making a decision is tricky. But I think I will chose greg2 as this month's winner for an imaginative story well told.

 

Thanks all 3 of you. Ian - I continue to enjoy reading your blog - I've recently joined Twitter and I even Tweeted a link to one of your entries. I feel I must take this opportunity to encourage you to keep up the good work there. Now let's all go and have a go at De Batz's August theme. I've plenty of inspiration for that when I look out of my office window...

Lady A

[Ian Rivedon 10]

I've emerged!

 

greg2: This was a good evocation of the concerns of a school girl - and a genuinely shock ending. A great little story.

 

De Batz: An interesting philosophical piece. The summer holidays are indeed a good time for reflective pause. I always make my resolutions in the summer holidays rather than the busy New Year.

 

Ian Rivedon: Is this an autobiographical piece? If not you have captured the essence of a long past journey well. You've also captured just how things that seem such a trivial detail to adults take on a huge importance to a child.

 

I enjoyed all 3 of these pieces and making a decision is tricky. But I think I will chose greg2 as this month's winner for an imaginative story well told.

 

Thanks all 3 of you. Ian - I continue to enjoy reading your blog - I've recently joined Twitter and I even Tweeted a link to one of your entries. I feel I must take this opportunity to encourage you to keep up the good work there. Now let's all go and have a go at De Batz's August theme. I've plenty of inspiration for that when I look out of my office window...

Lady A

 

Hello Lady A,

 

Thank you so much for your kind words and continued encouragement. My piece was partially autobiographical, embellished to enhance the 50s setting. From your comments, I seem to have at least partially succeeded. I agree with your choice of Greg2 as winner. I also thought his piece exceptionally well written and descriptive, particularly with so few words to work with.

 

Regarding my blog (at http://www.rivedon.co.uk for the uninitiated). As you will probably have deduced, I have had a few minor health issues recently that resulted in a loss of motivation in keeping the blog current. I'm largely over that now thankfully, and since I resumed regular posts, I have been concentrating on 'finding' a unique and consistent tone. I'm trying to enhance the political aspect, but in a humorous and hopefully satirical style. I'm very grateful for your encouragement, which has definitely raised my morale.

 

Best wishes,

 

Ian

[greg2 10]

Lady A

 

Thanks! It is a long time since I won anything. I guess I'd better start thinking about a theme for September.

 

greg2

[Ron Blanco 10]

Belated congratulations, greg, on that enjoyable story. I loved the way in which you manipulated our sympathies, and also how you transformed the mood of a seemingly innocent story. Hopefully you have an idea for September's theme, in which case just PM Tallyman and myself with your suggestion and we will post it in the usual format.

 

Thanks also to Lady A for overseeing another good competition which produced an interesting variety of stories.

 

De Batz, I enjoyed reading your thought-provoking piece and, following my own deliberations, found myself agreeing with your narrator's conclusion. I was also left wondering why he had been moved about so much?

 

Ian, despite not being an oldest sibling, I could relate to the anxiety (insecurity?) of being separated from my family in that way. Some really nice details in there which added to the authenticity. I wondered whether banana sandwiches might have been more conducive to attracting wasps, though I must admit I am not an expert on wasps' preferences. On the subject of your blog, I read 1984 recently with a view to making parallels with today's governing bodies. There were two aspects that resonated most: the degree of manipulation that politicians rely on; and the growing dependence on surveillance to spot crimes and to keep tabs on subversive elements. I will also try to look in on your blog more frequently.

Edited September 1, 2011 by Ron Blanco

[De Batz 10]

The clue is in the last line, and the signature...

[Ron Blanco 10]

Hmm... LM, LM, ... what could it be... Lady Macbeth? No, that can't be it.

 

Apologies if I am being dense, DB, but I need more clues.

[De Batz 10]

No, I don't think you're being dense. I'm being a bit cryptic.

 

Strictly speaking it should be LMS. A cursory google of which should find you your answer.

 

It's kind of forced, I suppose. But it was an interesting challenge to write from an alternative point-of-view. Although I note it does still read like my writing - whether that's a good or bad thing - but I'm in it.

 

Andy