See What We Do for images of Fil Reid's Arthurian novels and Margaret Hodges' two books of poetry and Showcase for a poem by Brian Codling and a short story by Gina
West Berkshire Writers
We are a small group of local writers who meet most Friday mornings in Newbury. The writing group covers a wide range of writing styles and genres, including poetry, prose, travel writing, local history, drama, short stories and novels.
Since the pandemic regular meetings include workshops, discussions and readings.
Since the pandemic regular meetings include workshops, discussions and readings.
Next Meeting
In the Future ... We meet @ 10.30 on Friday mornings outside the K & A Stone Building on Newbury Wharf for a coffee and a chat until 11.00 when we occupy the John Gould Room upstairs until midday. |
Forthcoming events
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Come and meet us
The writing group has been meeting in Newbury regularly for over twenty years, with an extensive history and background of providing a stimulus and outlet for local writers We are always happy to welcome newcomers to our writing group, whether you have never shared your writing with anyone before or are a published writer. There is no fee charged to visitors or newcomers for their first few visits, after that there is a small monthly charge to cover room hire. We meet on most Friday mornings in the Kennet & Avon Canal Trust Stone Building, The Wharf, Newbury.
For more information either
email us at [email protected]
or call 01635 821309.
R I P : Richard Pelham Long
26th July 1941 - 14th September 2023
For more information either
email us at [email protected]
or call 01635 821309.
R I P : Richard Pelham Long
26th July 1941 - 14th September 2023
Cruel Perfume by Richard Long who joined the group in 1984
Suzi was frying bats again. The tendrils of their perfume lapped ever higher through the house. The other inhabitants of the house stirred restlessly in their sleep. None could tell if it was the smell or the sound that disturbed them. The mastiff yawned untidily and fell to dreaming of wild chases through summer skies.
Suzi caught her bats on moonlit nights. She held a fifteen foot pole with a black butterfly net attached. Her feet fell silently as she strode across dewy lawns. Shoeless and alone she harmonized with nature. On cold nights she uttered ecstatic cries as the hoar frost crumbled underfoot. All the while she waved the pole to and fro.
She seldom caught bats in the net. But its fluttering bemused many and they fell, minds curdled, to the grass. She picked them up where they lay and tossed them lightly into a pannier slung on her back. There they waited for any fate that might befall them. Her jaunts seldom lasted more than half an hour. So she was back in the house by three a.m.
There she tipped the bats into a large frying pan, alive and with dripping. They slowly fried, their stomachs swelling and popping, releasing the cruel perfume of bat death. It crept insidiously. At four a.m. the meal was ready. Suzi sped from floor to floor, ringing a hand bell and shouting, ‘It’s on the table!’ The household awoke and fell delightedly on the furry bubble and squeak. Bon appetite, mes enfants.
It’s A Gift by Richard Long
Gifts always come with strings attached. Think of the greatest gift of all, Life itself, without which no other gift can be appreciated. Life comes with a warrant, not a warranty. A death warrant. Some gift, some finale. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Life’s a con. No sooner are you enjoying Life as a child than you encounter death in some form. Then the awful thought that someday it will happen to you slowly sinks into your consciousness. Like Life all gifts perish. All but one.
There is one gift that asks neither gratitude nor gainful use. It is freely given without thought of return. Time cannot corrupt it, nor death diminish it. It knows no boundaries and cares about every detail. It comes in abundant quantity or not at all. The gift is love. Lunches have to be paid for, but love, real love, is free of cost. It is free to the giver, free to the loved. Love is not a con. Death merely sets a seal on it.
© Richard Long
This piece was read at Richard's funeral in St Nicolas' Church, Newbury 19th October 2023
Gifts always come with strings attached. Think of the greatest gift of all, Life itself, without which no other gift can be appreciated. Life comes with a warrant, not a warranty. A death warrant. Some gift, some finale. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Life’s a con. No sooner are you enjoying Life as a child than you encounter death in some form. Then the awful thought that someday it will happen to you slowly sinks into your consciousness. Like Life all gifts perish. All but one.
There is one gift that asks neither gratitude nor gainful use. It is freely given without thought of return. Time cannot corrupt it, nor death diminish it. It knows no boundaries and cares about every detail. It comes in abundant quantity or not at all. The gift is love. Lunches have to be paid for, but love, real love, is free of cost. It is free to the giver, free to the loved. Love is not a con. Death merely sets a seal on it.
© Richard Long
This piece was read at Richard's funeral in St Nicolas' Church, Newbury 19th October 2023