Issue 445 8 July 2016

Moulded glass with

story rim in Latin and red Samian ware

bowl. Two Dinari Coin.

FLASH FICTION: lost, wombat, spike, ring, obscure, landslide,

Ermintrude, smuggle, supper, depend, Spain

Assignment: sport in the widest sense of the word

A warm welcome awaits. COME to WORKSHOP ... Rising Brook Library

Workshops 1.30 start Mondays

National Poetry Day theme this year is 'Messages'. Thursday October 6th 2016

Front Cover:

Reproduction and real —

Roman period research items

very kindly provided by CMH.

Diary Dates

Field Trip booked for 25th July 10.30 departure

AGM with picnic 1st August

Summer break — no workshop - 22nd and 29th August

Workshops re-open 5th September

SORRY!

No bulletin next week!

Please submit as usual.

Next bulletin in two

weeks time.

KEEP CALM

AND

CARRY ON

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

CAN YOU HEAR ME MOTHER?

I admit, sometimes, to being profoundly deaf. In my case that means that I‟ve lost – very care-

less of me – about 65% of the hearing range of „normal‟ people. As a make weight I‟m learning to lip-read. Lip-reading is not the perfect answer; there isn‟t a

perfect answer, you just have to do the best you can.

LISTENING, very carefully, is amongst the raft of things you need to do to keep up with the universe, life and everything.

I know, I know! Somebody is going to say, “Get a hearing aid!” Sorry, but that is definitely NOT the answer. The catchword there is, AID. At best, they will help you. What they CANNOT do

is give you back something that nature has removed. You can hear the Crows and Pigeons but the Song Thrush and Nightingale are way out of reach.

Hearing impaired or not, what are we doing when we listen? We‟re not merely flapping our

ears about. Most folks with a reasonable education know about 25,000 words; however, only about 500 are used in normal life.

Even when we use that limited amount of words it is almost impossible for those of us who lip-read to hold all of them in the front of our minds and ready to recognise as we go about life.

Particularly if we don‟t know the topic of conversation! The time lag, while we range through our minds for words that match the lip shapes to the

bits of sound we do hear, along with what we know of the weather, Politics, sports scores, time

of day etc, can make life difficult – to say the least. Everybody uses factors other than words to understand what someone else is saying. If you

have a hearing loss – an INVISIBLE handicap – you have to use them with more skill. Facial expression is a clue as to whether they‟re going to say something startling, worrying, good new

or boring. Then we know whether to sit up and pay attention or slouch back and listen with half an ear. Also, the way they approach us, shoulders set, hand movements … body language.

The information we get is much greater when it‟s someone we know. Experience tells us what

any particular expression may mean. We can have probable words and phrases in the forefront of our mind at the outset.

We all have different „dictionaries‟ in our mind for various situations and people. Each diction-ary, there could be several, holds sets of words, phrases and facial expressions that we expect from that person and situation. If you have a friend who works with you, there will be at least

two. One for work, the other for social situations. The dictionaries may not be right; it‟s simply the words and phrases we reasonably expect in given situations.

A friend of mine (call him Joe) was attending a college course and arrived early. The lecturer was just behind him on entry and started talking to the others in the class. Joe couldn‟t under-

stand a word he was saying; well he understood the words but they didn‟t make sense. Had his hearing aid stopped working? Searching faces for other clues Joe noticed the enthusiasm of eve-rybody, even the lecturer. Then the penny dropped, they were talking about football! The point

was that Joe had the wrong dictionary in mind. If you have this problem try shifting your dictionaries around.

NB These are personal opinions and CMH is not a

medical practitioner. If you are affected by any of these

issues seek professional advice.

www.greatbritishwriteoff.co.uk

Latest News: Residency opportunities at the Wordsworth Trust | 01-Jul-16

Details of the Clarissa Luard Residencies for poets under 35.

Sir Geoffrey Hill obituary | 01-Jul-16

The poet has died aged 84.

Come and work at The Poetry Library! | 25-Jun-16

Library Assistant vacancy at the Poetry Library

Poetry Magazines Received in June 2016 | 22-Jun-16 List of the poets and articles published in UK and Irish magazines re-

ceived by the Poetry Library June 2016

New Events: MANCHESTER: Word Central | 07-Jul-16

Word Central - Open Mic Poetry. A semaphore exploding mind flow.

THE POETRY LIBRARY: The Homeless Library Opening Event | 09-Jul-16 Celebrate the launch of The Homeless Library and participate in a poetry

and book-making workshop

CAMBRIDGE: Poetry at The Relevant | 15-Jul-16

Open Mic at The Relevant

Sir Geoffrey Hill obituary | 01-07-16 Poet and essayist Sir Geoffrey Hill has passed away

aged 84. His wife confirmed his death on Twitter on Friday 1st July. Hill had been referred to as the "greatest living poet in the English language" and was Professor of Poetry at Oxford from

2010-2015. Hill gained the Truman Capote Award for Literary Criticism in 2009.

Full obituary on the New Statesman website

Roman Britain: somewhere very near here on

the, being constructed, Watling Street

Year 130AD early March so the grand opening

is supposed to be on the 15th (it had to be, did-

n't it) .... NEW we‘ve had to add 100 years to

timeline to loosely tie in with historical facts

(that‘ll be a first ...)

Trentbilious Fort (aka Gailey)

Site of work camp, and Fort and wannabe

CITY, for building the Watling Street, an arte-

rial road for troop marching ... (Appinan 5 on

their route map) Building has started in Deva

(Chester) and at Londinium. The two ends of

the road are supposed to meet at Trentbilious –

they don‘t – hence a roundabout will be needed

through the car park of the Spread Eagle pub.

Two other roads going south east are also sup-

posed to join at this junction. It‘s a hub, a trad-

ing post. Lots of nefarious opportunities.

Trending: they all say ―Ciao‖ which is way out

of timeline.

The Ninth legion have already started marching

up from Londinium for the celebration and

Gladiator games are to be held at great expense.

Vicus: All the good positions are held by the

totally corrupt Bluddschotticus family

Magistratus : Freedman Nigellos Bluddschotti-

cus, he sub contracted out the road works

hence the grievous error in mapping, Viola

Bluddschotticus, his shrew of a wife who wants

Nigellos to gain Plebeian Citizenship (grade

three Roman Citizenship) at any cost

Bean counters: Titus Purcious (Librarius, book

keeper) and Teflonicus Maximus, Gias Velcrow

(very simple scribe adopted by Titus‘s sister-

inlaw Angelica when found in a basket ...

So, who is he?)

Boris Bluddschott (no icus) Brother of Nigel-

lous, (Welsh) wife Blodwyn, dim and jealous,

son Bulch, lazy and hairy

Forum: Soothesayer: Fortunata Agonyia Arntyous

Fort: Commander Fattassious Fatallis; Daftus

Brushious (second in command)

Regional Commander/Senator Marpellious

Domestios coming with the Ninth Legion to

open the joining of the roads

Guards: Pearmainus, Bacon Fryed, Hovis

Brightus

Temple of Vespa: Vera and Gloria Vespals

and keepers of the sacred flame

Temple of Queen of Heaven: Isadora, High

Priestess; Galenodorius, Greek Doctor;

Hilarious, Theatre Owner puts on plays

Gladiators: Bresslorian, Glutinous Maximus

and Flirticus

Traders: Collectus Alloto (scrap metal recycler)

Bathhouse Slaves: Smerkio & Flavia Exotica

Undertakers: Habeous and Corpus

Bertha Velcrow: madam, keeper of a seedy

hotel — mother of Angelica

Ancient Britons: Lurid Ashious and Flori-

bunda

Druids: Aggrevious Wife and Daughter

Marcia of Mercia — Celtic group of waifs

and slaves

Roman Timeline: Real and Fictitious Roads construction between 45 and 410

AD

60/61 Boudica Rebellion

98 -117 Marcus Ulpius TRANJANUS

pushed the ‗limes‘ frontiers out to

greatest extent (Spanish)

110AD OUR HADRIAN VISITS

TRENTBILIOUS – meets Angelica

Velcrow (Bertha Velcrow‘s daughter)

and fathers Gias Velcrow the scribe

slave who she claims to ‗find‘ in a bas-

ket and adopts

117 to 138 Publius Aelius HADRI-

ANUS (Spanish)

120 - 123 Hadrian‘s Wall Built

OUR STORY 130 AD

138 to 161 Titus Aelius ANTONINUS

PIUS (Antonine Wall)

Or Common Era (CE) or

whatever PC nonsense one is

supposed to call

Anno Domini nowadays

STYLE SHEET READ

THIS FIRST PLEASE BEFORE SUBMITTING

We have decided to make some submission changes, to make it easier and fairer: There will be a pool of stock characters as usual. Contributors will be restricted to three exclusive characters of their own making per plot strand. Contributors must not use any other contributor‟s exclusive characters. Contributors must have a plotline approved before starting. Contributors may only submit 500 words per week. Block submissions will not be accepted. It is important to other writers to be able to hear storylines unfolding week by week. The page limit of the book aims to be 150 pages. The house font is Tahoma 12pt - no tables, no bold, no italics, no col-oured inks, no centred headings, „ for speech not “ , no underlining, no attachments, all submissions in ragged-right-edge embedded email, all submissions to be spelled checked and grammar checked prior to submission. One space only after a full stop. All contributors should ac-quaint themselves how to punctuate dialogue. A Buddy system, where a beginner may be asking the advice of a more experienced contributor prior to submission, is to be encouraged. NB: It has been agreed for workshoppers to go on a field trip to study a Roman dig site.

EDITOR NOTE:

Submissions: Pile on the complications ... More problems.

Showing not telling, characters dialogue and actions shown not told.

A Note Dear Reader: Here we meet Honoria Libida who runs a house of easy virtue called Villa

Ortu Solis ('The House of the Rising Sun').

A Narrow Escape Maximus, Minimus, Catharticus and Infectious marched off into the rain.

Maximus asked, „Where does this Titus Purcius live?‟ „Dunno‟ replied Catharticus. Maximus asked a passing Briton who, unfortunately for him, was a bit of a joker.

„Excuse me do you know where Titus Purcius lives?‟ „Yes thank you,‟ replied the smirking Briton and walked off, but not far. He stopped when a

very sharp sword point was pushed up his nose. „It would be very good for your health, if you could help us, sir,‟ smiled Catharticus. „Certainly, certainly, follow me,‟ gulped the comedian.

Two steps later and the procession stopped. From the bath house came cries of humanity in distress followed by a stream of dressed, half dressed and undressed men chased by a hungry

crocodile. „I thought you caught them all,‟ shouted Maximus.

„So did I,‟ said Minimus. „How many crocs did you catch Infectious?‟ asked Maximus. „Nineteen.‟

„You silly private (a rough translation from the Latin), we brought twenty,‟ said Maximus. „Oops!‟ grinned Catharticus.

As the trusty quartet watched there came even more screams but issuing from the Villa Ortu Solis owned and run by Honoria Libida.

„What the Hades is going on now?‟ asked Maximus At this point several young „ladies‟, also in various stages of undress, ran by. Catharticus grabbed one and asked, „What‟s the problem miss?‟

„A great hairy man came in and none of us want to „entertain‟ him‟ she whimpered. „I bet a ruddy gorilla has escaped now,‟ said Minimus.

„Right Minimus, go with Catharticus a catch that croc. Infectious you come with me to the Villa Ortu Solis,‟ ordered Maximus. After a wild croc chase the crocodile was netted and put back in its cage. Minimus and Cathar-

ticus were exhausted, went back to their hut and had a large drink of wine. Meanwhile, Maximus and Infectious went to Honoria‟s villa to see what was going on.

Honoria was a well matured „lady‟ who ran a tight ship. She looked after young ladies who al-ways seemed to have a plentiful supply of „admirers‟. She regretted that the same was not true

for her. Maximus and Infectious went in through the open door and were bowled over by a terrified go-rilla. The gorilla legged it down the street as if chased by a man-eater; well, it was not far wrong.

Down the stairs came an unhappy Honoria. „Have you seen my friend? I took him into my room, took off my toga and got ready to enter-

tain him, when he ran away,‟ she sighed. Honoria took a good look at our intrepid zoo keepers

and said, „Ah, two strapping soldiers, come with me and I can give you a good time.‟ The two brave soldiers looked at each other and ran; the gorilla was overtaken by Maximus

and Infectious shortly afterwards. Much later all four soldiers retired to bed, worn out. Titus Purcius did not know how lucky he

was. Pick your own

Hercules, the elephant, was bored and hungry; he raised his trunk and sniffed the air. The smell of apples, the last of the winter store, tickled his palate. The following thoughts passed

slowly through his mind: Apples, hmm, tasty. What‟s in my trough? Hmmm, mouldy hay and dirty water. Hmmm. Sod it, I‟m off out of this dump.‟ Hercules pushed over the fence. Trunk raised, he tramped his way to the barn containing the

apples, eating thatch off of the Britons‟ huts as he passed by. The barn door was bolted but a quick nudge opened the door and Hercules munched his way through the apples. Trunk raised

and a good sniff sent more messages to Hercules‟ brain. Cabbages, hmm, tasty. I‟m still hun-gry.

Off went Hercules through the fields with the barn door frame still round his neck. Hercules perambulations had not gone unnoticed. A three ton, ten foot high animal walking through a vicus, eating roofs, trampling gardens and wrecking barns caused another civil disor-

der for Maximus and company to sort out. A frantic hammering at the door roused Maximus from his sleep.

A Briton shouted: „An elephant has escaped and is eating everything.‟ Maximus burst into tears and called out, „Minimus, Catharticus, Infectious sort it out.‟ He

pulled the bedclothes over his head and wept some more. Meanwhile, Hercules wandered off for more food. Hmmm, I smell a garden with some nice shrubs to eat. Hmmm a clean pond too.

Nigellos Bluddschoticus was proud of his garden; it had a walkway around it, shrubs in the middle and right in the centre a pond and fountain. Hercules pushed over the entrance pillars

and gate, ate a few shrubs and settled down for a wallow in the pond. Nigellos, alerted by the crash of the gateway, ran into the garden and shouted at Hercules. An unfortunate action. Her-cules filled his trunk and gave Nigellos the ancient equivalent of a jet wash.

Catharticus was first on the scene, Hercules recognised him and ran off. Nigellos shouted, „You are going to pay for this.‟

Catharticus replied, „Hang on, you haven‟t paid for the animals for the games yet, just take it off of our bill which runs into the thousands of denarii.‟

Nigellos ran inside and locked the door. He had forgotten he was paying for the animals at the games. Hercules ran happily through the vicus only pausing to eat the occasional roof. On the way he

passed the state Bank, an imposing building. He decided to leave a large deposit at the Bank which took a long time to remove.

Catharticus called the others and chased Hercules back to his compound. Hercules was con-tent, he was not hungry he had had a good wash and had a bit of fun as well. He was thinking:

Hmmm, what fun shall I have tomorrow. Our zoo keepers locked the door, drank a lot of wine and added several hundred denari on to Bluddschoticus‟ bill.

Road Trip Blues

Marpellous Domestios, nicknamed “Squeaky” by the Nineth Legion because of their Commander was a stickler for cleanliness, some went as far as to say he was “clean round the bend”, was not

happy. He was swallowing a sickly feeling and had gone green about the gills. Every step in the swaying litter he had been forced into using was disturbing the wine, oysters and olives he had en-

joyed for his breakfast. Each bounce was an affront to a volatile temper. „Stop! Stop, I say,‟ he yelled, drawing back the curtain and adjusting the cushion under pained

buttocks. A face appeared as the curtain opened: „You called, governor?‟ asked the centurion

guardsman unlucky enough to draw bier duty. „Of course I called, you idiot. Fetch my horse.‟

„Is that wise, sir? You know what happened yesterday. Proper unfortunate ...‟ „I do not need you to remind me, nor my physician, not that useless soothsayer either. My back-

side has nothing to do with the Gods. I‟m sure they have more to do than concern themselves with

my affliction ...‟ The guardsman thought the pain in his lordship‟s posterior hadn‟t dampened his volume levels.

By now Marpellous was swinging a pair of hairy, matchstick legs over the sides of the swinging cot and pulling his toga about himself, probably a good idea as the British rain was persisting down

as usual. Torrents of downpour were all he could recall of Trentbilious, maybe not entirely all ... he had

been a young buck in those days after all.

„Put a fleece on the saddle,‟ he shouted towards the retreating back of the centurion who was disappearing into the mist. A fist was raised in acknowledgement, then he was gone.

As the column of soggy legionnaires stamped and grumbled at yet another delay due to their illustrious leader‟s piles, an affliction which was common knowledge, Marpellous was alone with his

thoughts staring into the mirk overlooking the settlement of St Albans. Hundreds of miles to ride on a padded saddle, it would be agony. „Trentbilious!‟ he muttered.

„What‟s it like, m‟lord?‟ ask Banksius, his servant, who was a shy spotty youth who avoided out-

side company and much preferred drawing and wall painting. He did a bit of freelancing as a mural artist and mosaic designer specialising in sea creatures not that there was much call for works of

art north of Londinium. „I‟ve only been there once,‟ he replied almost glad of the distraction. „I accompanied Hadrian on

a tour many years ago.‟

„Anything of note?‟ shivered the youth. „I remember a girl, Angelica. Golden red hair, fiery temper. I expect she‟s long gone ...‟

-o0o-

SORRY!

No bulletin next week!

Please submit as usual.

Next bulletin in two

weeks time.

This wasn’t meant to happen, well not for some time yet, A body built to last, I didn’t seem to get! My hands are rough and wrinkly, my arms have dimpled skin, Blue veins run up my legs and gather round my shin! I’ve face creams in small bottles, lotions to moisturise, Scrubs to scrape and polish, tonics to brighten eyes. These products crowd the bathroom, invade each tiny space, Trying to halt the march of time across my ageing face. When did it all happen, this dimpling, wrinkling skin? No amount of secret potion will fill those lines in! As I look into the mirror, reflected there I see, A grown up kind of woman, I know her best as me! Each line is drawn in moments of happiness and joy, Shadows are for dark times which upset or annoy. My face is just a picture to show where I have been, And all my aches and pains add colour to the scene. Though creams and scrubs and solid soaps may have a little space, Look at me and you will see, my life drawn on my face.

30.06.16

Planting Flowers To Cut For The House.

Back in March I jumped the gun and decided to plant the biggest of my old Chry-

santhemum stools in my allotment. They had been shooting very well, although

many of the smaller, more exotic Chrysanthemums, hadn‘t come through the Win-

ter. We had been trying to increase the number of varieties and colours by any

means that we could and had bought some dwarfed ―Pot Mums,‖ the previous year

that we had tried to over Winter. You don‘t see much choice in Chrysanthemums

offered for sale in garden centres as young plants, so another way that we tried to

gain more types was to buy the occasional bunch of cut flowers and cut some of the

stalks off the bottom of the flowers. These were then put into root with some suc-

cess giving us a few more young plants to grow on. Anyway, back to the subject of

the big Chrysanthemums, I had already cut the big stools down once and of course

the cuttings had been put in to root, but I needed to make space in the greenhouse

for my seed sowing that had started in earnest.

Consequently 17 of them went up to the allotment and were planted just be-

fore we had several nights of hard frost. Fortunately I had the foresight to cover

them with 2 layers of fleece which protected them and the fleece was carefully held

down by many stones, but what I hadn‘t expected was the deep snow drifts that

covered my plot with up to 2 feet of snow at the beginning of April!!! Amazingly,

after the snow had all gone and I plucked up the courage to inspect them, I found

they were all fine and none the worse for the bad weather.

Planting the large pots of Gladioli in the allotment also made some more room

in my greenhouse. I didn‘t plant the bulbs directly in the soil, but plunged the pots

into the ground, so that they should draw most of their water requirements from the

surrounding soil.

For Mothers‘ Day I bought mom a packet of mixed, Alstroemeria bulbs, or

perhaps tubers is the right word as they look very like Dahlia tubers. They are also

known as Peruvian Tree Lily, or Ligtu as they now seem to be called and will make

nice cut flowers for the house. They were already shooting, so I took a chance and

planted them in the allotment. The instructions said to avoid frost, so I covered the

tender shoots with a layer of bark chippings to protect them.

My Monarda also seem to be none the worse for being buried under the snow

and are shooting very well, but my Sweet peas are just sitting there. I thought the

bad weather had finished by the time they were planted, but the strong winds and

still very cold nights have stopped them from growing at all. On the subject of

Sweet Peas, I have found out that there are such things as Perennial sweet peas.

Some garden Centres sell them at extortionate prices, but they can be grown from

seed. In fact there seems to be quite a range of types offered with some being short

and some tall, some being single colours and some mixed. Naturally I went for seed

and it germinated fairly easily. For the this year, I have up decided to grow them on

in pots before they are planted out as mature plants next year. This will mean that I

should never have the trouble of buying, dividing, growing on and planting out,

young, Annual, Sweet Peas, ever again. They will be yet another perennial for my

permanently planted allotment plot.

(2013)

http://www.gutenberg.org (educational/nfp usage)

15

When I consider every thing that grows

Holds in perfection but a little moment.

That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows

Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.

When I perceive that men as plants increase,

Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky:

Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,

And wear their brave state out of memory.

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay,

Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,

Where wasteful time debateth with decay

To change your day of youth to sullied night,

And all in war with Time for love of you,

As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

16

But wherefore do not you a mightier way

Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time?

And fortify your self in your decay

With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,

And many maiden gardens yet unset,

With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,

Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of life that life repair

Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen

Neither in inward worth nor outward fair

Can make you live your self in eyes of men.

To give away your self, keeps your self still,

And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.

04julyFolkystuff

Written on July 4, 2016 By Garry Copeland in Folk

Tamworth Folk Moot next weekend will feature a free concert

celebrating peace, friendship and reconciliation.

Organised by Peace Through Folk, the event will be held at Bo-

lehall Manor on Sunday, starting at 2.30pm.

The programme will consist of songs, poems, tunes and spoken

word pieces from the First World War to the present. Performers

include Malcolm Robinson, the Peace Choir, Pete Hopkins,

Dave Teague, Mitre‘s Well, Marion Harper, Bob Blake, Lester

Simpson, Gerry Ffrench, The Laners, Bob Bull, Stephen Edkins,

Stephen Swoffer, Band On The Rum, Tom Patterson, Dave

Morton, Steve Harper, Graham Hewitt and Richard Radek.

There will be a collection in aid of Medecins Sans Frontieres,

the United Nations Refugee Agency, War Child and Save the

Children‘s Refugee Crisis Appeal.

VICKY EVANS will be flying the stars and stripes on Wednes-

day when she hosts (two days late) a July 4 session at Moreton

Millennium Hall. Performers will offering an all-American pro-

gramme of songs and tunes.

THE FUNDRAISER organised by the Spring Chickens at Gran-

ville‘s restaurant, Stone, last weekend was a huge success.

Understandably, Jeff Eaton is, er, cock a hoop.

He writes: ―I am pleased to report that the concert was a great

success, both in terms of how much everyone seemed to enjoy

themselves, and also in terms of how much money was raised.

Ticket sales, donations and the raffle raised £1,400 and all the

proceeds will go to the Chemotherapy Treatment Unit at Staf-

ford Hospital.

―It was good to see many of the unit‘s staff at the concert as our

guests.‖

A COUPLE of people have expressed interest in the psaltery and

the chordal dulcimer mentioned in last week‘s bulletin.

A generous offer from a friend of a friend puts two such tradi-

tional instruments up for grabs to anyone prepared to offer one

or both a good home. They were made almost half a century ago

by a woman, now 93, who is moving into sheltered accommoda-

tion. Her daughter would like the instruments to go to someone

who would get pleasure from playing them, in return for a dona-

tion to the Amber Trust (http://ambertrust.org), a charity which

raises money to provide music lessons for blind and partially

sighted children.

Diary

Unless otherwise stated, sessions begin at around 8pm, but don‘t

be surprised if things don‘t warm up until nearer 9pm.

Monday

The Elms, Church Road, Shareshill, 8.30pm. Christine Edwards

hosts a singers‘ night which offers a warm welcome to all-

comers. Contemporary, country and occasional traditional.

Friendly landlord Kevin provides free sandwiches.

Granville‘s, Granville Square, Stone, 8.30pm. Singer Paul

Walker hosts a weekly anything goes acoustic open-mic night at

this popular restaurant.

Tuesday

Spittal Brook, Lichfield Road, Stafford. The home of Stafford‘s

longest-running session. Originally strictly traditional, but nowa-

days pretty much anything goes. Good range of real ales.

Wednesday

Rose and Crown, Eastgate Street, Stafford. Amicable session

in a great town centre venue, hosted by the Spring Chickens.

Can be noisy (it‘s a pub – what do you expect?), but there are

few better ways to enjoy an evening among friends.

Millennium Hall, Moreton, near Gnosall. Open mic session

hosted by Vicky Evans to celebrate US Independence Day.

Thursday

The Roebuck, Hilderstone. A bit far out, but well worth the

trip for both the music (courtesy of Ant and Andy, Albert,

Gary etc) and splendid free grub.

Market Vaults, Stafford. Bluesman Pete Wearn‘s open-mic

session at this popular town centre pub (just off Market

Square) isn‘t strictly folk, but folkies are welcome. Banjo ace

Dan Walsh cut his performing teeth here, which should be

recommendation enough.

Brewood Acoustic Music Club, Brewood Cricket Club, Four

Ashes Road, Brewood. Friendly open mic session. Full de-

tails here: brewoodacousticmusic.co.uk/whats-on-4

Friday

Bradford Arms Folk Club, Ivetsey Bank, near Wheaton As-

ton. Performers‘ night hosted by Linda Del-Manso.

Wikipedia image: 5 string

banjo

All That Jazz! The RBW workshop comedy for 2016 is now online as a free e-book. www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=15 and on RBW Facebook page where it is free to

like and share

Coffee and Cakes in aid of Katherine House Hospice

Wednesday 13th July 10am-12 noon Come and see what our Watercolour Art Group do

And enjoy a drink with our members All welcome at the Methodist Hall Weston (on the A51)

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 2016 — RCN 1117227 A voluntary charitable trust.