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K eekin Through

WINDAES a children’s exploration of creativity

Written by children from: Craigholme Junior School Crookston Castle Primary School Shawlands Primary School St Marnock’s Primary School With children’s writing exercises by Joe Murray


K eekin Through

WINDAES a children’s exploration of creativity

Mythic Horse Press


Acknowledgments the National Trust for Scotland Claire McDade – Head of Learning Services Sandra Morrison – Learning Manager: Arts and Resources [pARTicipate] Pollok House Learning Team Laura Bauld Eileen Beaton April Close Grace Hepworth Katrina Johnson Laurie McVeigh Pollok House Ian McGreevy – Property Manager Alison McAllister – Administrator Jan Black – Catering Manager The Writers Ken Cockburn Linda Jackson Gerry Loose Liz Niven Brian Whittingham Children and Staff Craigholme Junior School Crookston Castle Primary School Shawlands Primary School St Marnock’s Primary School


the creativeness of children


Content

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Content Š 2014 The Contributors and the National Trust for Scotland Preface and writing exercises Š 2014 Joe Murray and Mythic Horse Press

Mythic Horse Press

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of the National Trust for Scotland. The authors of the works contained in this publication assert their moral rights. ISBN 978-1-901129-03-8 (paperback) ISBN 978-1-901129-04-5 (eBook)


PREFACE

In February 2013 the learning team at Pollok House hosted a series of children’s writing workshops. These included, art and poetry, writing in Scots, nature in poetry, writing a story, and writing a song. Also present were five professional writers highly experienced in working with children: Brian Whittingham; Linda Jackson; Liz Niven, Ken Cockburn and Gerry Loose. Around 150 children from four local schools attended the workshops held over three full days – each child attended two different workshops on the day. The schools were: Craigholme Junior School, Crookston Primary School, Shawlands Primary School and St Marnock’s Primary School. It never ceases to amaze me just how excited children get when taking part in creative endeavours; how much learning they get from it without really knowing they are learning. It is always a joy for me to be shown the ordinary through a child’s eyes – it was fun telling my colleagues at Pollok House just how manky oor windaes whurr. Ah, tae see oorsels as bairns see us. What follows is the work of 48 of the children. It is patchwork of language and observation, of sensory perceptions in a place not like their normal place – a place of stories, of history, echoes of a past these children could only imagine. It is this imagination and their own interpretation of those stories that inhabits these pages.

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The workshops were a lot of hard work to organise, but all the effort was worth the pleasure the children and the writers obviously got from it. It was important to me that the children had some follow-up to the workshops, so teachers were asked to let the children develop what they had worked on at the workshops once they were back at school. This book is the result of receiving many of those pieces of work from teachers. As for the songwriting workshops run by Linda Jackson, the children where asked to write verses for a sports anthem with the 2014 Commonwealth Games in mind. These were a huge success, however, they had been scribbled down on large flipcharts, so many of the verses were not transcribed (maybe that is another wee book for me to produce at a later date?). However, Craigholme School took the whole thing more seriously and invited Linda run some more workshops at the school. Their two versions of the song are included after the poems. The resulting song has been recording by the children in a professional recording studio. Who knows, maybe sometime, somewhere during the Games we might get to hear it. A few weeks previous to these creative writing workshops we held two Celtic Connections concerts at Pollok House with seven professional musicians and around thirty children from Shawlands Primary School. The concerts were the end result of eight NTS music and song writing workshops held at the school and at Pollok House with those children working with three of the


musicians. The musicians were from Atlantic Seaway and students of the Berklee Institute of Boston, USA. I have included the song the children wrote and sang at those concerts here in the book as it was written by some of the children featured elsewhere in this book. So, this book Craigholme’s CD, and the Celtic Connections concerts lend themselves to some sort of legacy for the Pollok House Workshops for Schools in 2013. These workshops are just a small part of what we do within Learning Services of the National Trust for Scotland. Engaging with children, informing and assisting with their daily learning goes to the very core of the Trust’s philosophy. For it is only through doing those things that we can inspire them. Inspired children are happy children, and happy children learn better, and will usually come back to the places that inspired and made them happy. If we continually and successfully do these things the future of Scotland’s heritage will be passed into safe hands.

Dr Joe Murray Learning Officer The National Trust for Scotland Pollok House Glasgow February 2014

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A TTABLE ABLE OF CONTENT S CONTENTS 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Mahnoor Ahmed Lucie Aitken Joel Alexander and Xhek Myrta Adam Ali Adam Ali Subhan Ali Charlie Arthur Sophie Bain Aaron Baird Musab Balouch Freya Brady Anna Brennan Anna Brennan Katie Brennan Elena Cooke Jaina Dass Brandon Deegan Kaspar Dumbrovskis Leeanne Gallagher Jonathan Good Louise Graham Rachel Gray Joy Guse Dylan Haggerty Gillian Henderson Aimee Hudgins Liam Hughes Amna Hussain Navkiran Kooner Kayleigh Laing Jean-Luc Livingstone Sophie Luc


BY A UTHOR AUTHOR 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 67 71 79 81 82

Leo MacLean and Matthew Wright Leo MacLean and Matthew Wright Amber Macpherson Aniya Mann Tia Mansbridge Rachel McArthur Gregor McDowall Liam McGinnity Hibah Mohammed Tamani Osman George Purser Mikaeel Rana Mikaeel Rana Zara Rehman Stuart Robinson Mujahida Sarwar Finlay Slade Caitlin Strachan Hakan Turan Joanne Wright Lyba Younis Songwriting Workshop Story by Joe Murray Writing Exercise: story writing 1 Writing Exercise: story writing 2 Writing Exercise: writing a poem

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Biographies


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MAHNOOR AHMED Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

13 The Wonders of Pollok Hoose I open the windaes and whit can I see, I see floors covered in frost, Dugs swimmin in the river, Maids washin the carts of Maxwell family’s horses, So clean and so bright, Five wee little lassies, Making the hoose so happy, Warm sun shinin’ and clear bloo skies The birds tweetin’ so wonderful, A hoose o happiness is Pollok Hoose.


LUCIE AITKEN Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

14 Whit am a?

Am Am Am Am Am Am A’ll A’ll A’ll

smashin the windaes. flingin the cutlery. bangin the doors. rumblin the table cuvers. no that small. size a yur. drag ya oot yar bed. hide in the cubberds. haunt yar hoose

Whit am a?


JOEL ALEXANDER AND XHEK MYR MYRTTA Primary 6b Shawlands Primary School

15 Poem

Super Prickly Interesting Kangaroo colour Youch! That’s sore. Strong Tough Ice colour Creamy King of sticks.


AD AM ALI ADAM Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

16 Nature Poem Tiny Will In Goats

High On Lolly Logs Yes

Open Apple Kicks Loops Even Adds Frogs

Rag Horse On Doctor Omar Done Even None Documents Rated On Nothing


AD AM ALI ADAM Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

17 The Horses On Thursday morning I went to Pollok House to see the river with my class. A man called Brian took us outside and we walked up to the river. While we were there, two horses escaped from the field. They came charging down the river. They were charging straight for me, but luckily I had an apple and I threw it at the horses. They went for the apple and it calmed down. The owner said, “thanks�.


SUBHAN ALI Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

18 Poem

Lots of leaves Rustling in the wind Weak leaves falling on the ground I see leaves tipping them around Dying leaves going to fizz Jaggy leaves, dark leaves Weak branches smacking In the wind


CHARLIE AR THUR ARTHUR Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

19 Whit am a?

a smash the dishes a smash the windaes am see thro like a hate ma house am no a big head a hiv na legs am dogey like a plonker am no that small am the size a you a will drag u out of bed am only twenty-two am no that fat am invisible a will fling yare chairs a’ll rewin yare china a flick your light on and aff a’ll slam yare doors Whit am a?


SOPHIE BAIN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

20 Pollok Hoose

A A A A A

do the dishes, make the beds, work in this muckle hoose, make the dinner, make the lunch,

A go through muckle gates in the mornin, A see tiny weans playing oot the back, A see the aulder weans jumpin oan beds Who am A?


AAR ON BAIRD AARON Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

21 The Wonders of Pollok Hoose

Open up a windae whit dae ya see, a magpie on a fence whit a sight tae me. Open up a windae whit dae ya smell, soup on the stove roast pork as well. Open up a windae whit dae ya hear, a hunter’s shotgun chasin a deer.


MUS AB BAL OUCH MUSAB BALOUCH Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

22 Leaf

Lettuce is green, Eggs are oval, American Dad is awesome, Farmers are dressed like cowboys.


FREY A BRAD Y FREYA BRADY Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

23 Nature poem

The wind is blowing the river is flowing the birds are tweeting the creatures are eating the mud is brown but it doesn’t make a sound the ducks are playing the squirrels are staying the grass is green full of joy oh look there’s a jelly bean I ate it AHOY the trees are green the sky is blue lets go play just me and you!


ANN A BRENN AN ANNA BRENNAN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

24 Pollok Hoos Lions gaze down from the roof o the hoose, While I gaze up at them, quiet as a moose. Muckle and strong, a majestic sight, Up on the roof, a dizzying height. The garlands are auld, sae dirty an tired, While back in their day, they were much admired. Intricate and delicate, a stone-worker’s pride, Only he knows how much energy it took an how hard he tried. The windaes are ancient, sae gloomy an dark, While some are new an are shaped like an arc, Inside the windaes, I know whit I’ll see, Auld paintings, and furniture made of mahogany.


ANN A BRENN AN ANNA BRENNAN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

25 My Pollok House

Above my house are White fluffy clouds drifting lethargically across the blue sky and a sun shining so bright, the world is aglow with colours of spring. Beside my house are Bare trees, stretching their strong boughs out to the sides of many fields of highland cows. Below my house are The ghosts of people and animals alike and tiny brown beetles burrowing into the earth. Around my house are The lands of the Maxwells stretching as far as the eye can see, broken up only by a rushing river. Inside my house are Paintings of great grandeur and furniture from past eras.


KA TIE BRENN AN KATIE BRENNAN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

26 Twa Grey Lions

When a was a bairn, A woke up at night, A keeked oot the windaes, An got a muckle fright! A saw twa grey lions, Their manes rippling in the breeze, Their ees glintin in the starlight, Gracefully movin with ease! A stood at the windae, ma mooth open wide, An a spotted the stone walls where they had sat, Bu’ they were there nae mare, they were alive; A have niver, to this day, seen anything like that! Wi a toss o their manes, they prowled back to their post, Creepin and pawin, slinkin ower withoot a sound, Wi one last roar, and a shake of their heeds, They jumped back up to their wall with a leap and a bound!


ELEN A COOKE ELENA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

27 Wildlife

Waterfalls crash into the rocks, I crunch through the frosty grass to hear birds, Lichen sticks onto the rough trees, Dogs bark at galloping horses, Lorries are nowhere to be seen, no bad smells, I stroke a soft, furry catkin and throw it into the river, Funny that the ripples spread so quickly, Everywhere is peaceful.


JAIN A DASS JAINA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

28 Pollok Hoose

Look through the windaes, whit can ye see? Sir John Maxwell looking out the windaes, wearing a bonnet. Outside horses trotting along the path, some givin milk tae the hoosekeeper Look at the windaes, whit can ye see? A wee lassie playin with her wee china dolls. Outside in the maze, Lady Maxwell picks flooers and smells them with pleasure. Out where the brig is the children playin and lookin at their reflections today. In the summer hoose the Maxwell faimli waited and waited until the storm had stopped. Oh how I love the birds tweeting! So this is a poem about the faimli which lived a long time ago.


BRANDON DEEGAN Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

29 Whit am a?

Am going about smashing the plates Am throwing the food on the floor Am smashing the windaes Throwing stuff about the room but you cannae see me doing it. Am throwing the painting in the room about the place. Whit am a?


KASP AR DUMBR OV SKIS KASPAR DUMBRO Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

30 The day I went for a walk

One day I went to have a walk with my dog. I met my friend his name is David and I said, “Do you want to have a walk?” He said “Yes, let’s go”. We went on a walk, then went to sit down. We were talking then after an hour I went home. Then I said to myself, “what did I forget?” “... oh no, my dog!”


LEEANNE GALLA GHER GALLAGHER Primary 6a St Marnock’s Primary School

31 Poem

watch the crowds come an go walking roon ma hoose, they dinny see me watching thim, am quiet as a moose. a watch weans playing in the maze happy as kin be, an smile when a mind that wance that wean wiz me. a dinny mind them coming in, in fact a like tae hear the noise, it gets so quiet here sometimes, that widnae be ma choice.


JON ATHAN GOOD JONA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

32 What am a?

A’m Runnin up the hill huntin down deer comin home to me busy daytime sleepy nichtime comin home after a hunt to me home with a new bone I hate my fleas Can’t wait till dinner Stop your barkin Says the maid What am a?


LOUISE GRAHAM Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

33 The Maze

One day Louise was going for a walk in the gardens. She was playing in the maze and walked down to the river which was very calm. When she went to walk back to the house she got tangled by vines. They came to life and grabbed hold of her and pulled her to a very scary mouth. Louise still had a sharp knife that she had used when eating afternoon tea in the cafĂŠ earlier. She chopped the vines until there were all dead. Louise was saved, so then she went to the cafĂŠ again and had a nice cup of tea, a biscuit and returned the knife!


RA CHEL GRA Y RACHEL GRAY Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

34 Who am a?

A clean the windaes aw day long, I sweep the fler furever long, I cook the dinner, dae the dishes , dust the shelves , clean the windaes ae the summer hoose , I take the dinner tae the Maxwells, I polish the mantelpiece make it shine, put coal in the fire to keep it in flame. Who am a?


JO Y GUSE JOY Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

35 What Am A?

A’ve goat Heavy walls guardin me, Dugs barkin up ma thrapple, Accessories o flooers, Black muckle gates, Hunners o luns for ma hair, Wee cuddies dancing aroon me, Hunners o windays wi pretty lassies cleanin ’em A footman waiting on the horses’ bonnie hooves up on the tarmac path, Par jink ivy up ma crumbling walls, An a garden as far as the eye could see. What am A?


DYLAN HA GGER HAGGER GGERTT Y Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

36 Pollok Hoose

Windaes ur boggin, Windaes ye cannae even see throu cus they’re that boggin, He’s wavin, a said, es wavin but yae cannae see im, So e came oot an said a wis wavin at ye, But we said we cannae see ye cus the windaes ur boggin. A wis also at the maze an am werin ma suit, A done it, a done the maze, it wis amazin. In a evin took a look oot tae the burn an a rain storm came oot, So a ran aw the way tae the thunder hoose an a said, am lucky am no drookit!


GILLIAN HENDERSON Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

37 Pollok Hoose

Chimney’s smothered in some smoke There’s lots o lots o folk Speedy horses are a vroomin Highland cows are slowly mooin Lights are switched on and off Sounds like someone’s got a cough The dug’s tail is waving like mad Outside the door there’s a handsome lad The vase is polished crystal clear Someone’s smashed a plate, oh dear Doonstairs the party’s carried on No-one yet has left and gone The cooks are quickly makin dishes While o’re the lake are lots of fishes Daintily, lassies run through the maze Hunners o folk are dancing wi craze Oor visit’s o’re a’ tae soon Above the hoos there’s a great big moon We all want tae come back Noo we’re all ridin doon the track


AIMEE HUDGINS Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

38 Pollok Hoos

Windaes o air the place Curtains in a big disgrace. Wains outside hiving fun And then the grey smoke comes oot the lums. The Pollok witches running roon They guaranteed they’ll be back soon. Gaists everywhere in the gloom Moving stuff and sweeping rooms.


LIAM HUGHES Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

39 Nature

Nature, Leaves, bark, rivers and trees, I’m standing on top of a mountain, The strong wind is blowing against me. Veins of leaves create a beautiful pattern, Smooth, deformed, jagged or perfect, Crawling on it is a tiny insect. Rocks that are jagged, smooth, heavy or rough, Heavy rocks, I can’t carry. Rivers flowing wind blowing, Nature is all around me.


AMN A HUSS AIN AMNA HUSSAIN Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

40 Pollok Hoose

The sun is shining, The wind is blowing, The birds are singing The horses are walking, The leaves are falling, The sky is blue, The man is reading, There are pink flowers in the vase.


NA VKIRAN KOONER NAVKIRAN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

41 Am A Dreamin?

Is that Lady Maxwell lookin o’er the balcony, Sir Maxwell wearin a perjink suit, A must be dreamin they’re nae alive, whit a tragedy. A new piana bein delivered tae the music room, Through the tall gates, a horse and carriage arrives with the prince. Through the windaes A can see a servant runnin aboot in the hoose, Tryin tae scurry away a moose! A can hear the weans voices, They are playin around in the maze tryin tae find their way oot! Am A dreamin? Of course A’m dreamin … But maybe not. Raindrop’s Oh no, thunner! A see the Maxwell weans runnin tae the thunner shelter, Scurryin away.


KA YLEIGH LAING KAYLEIGH Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

42 The Maxwells

Hunners a manky windaes, Wae a wee maid sticken oot the door, I saw Mrs Maxwell sittin in the library Scuffin doon her wee whisky, I saw witches lookin doon fae the lum, the dinner’s oan fire, well the maid is runnin aboot lookin fur the weans. The weans ur runnin aboot in the garden wae thur long bonny dresses traylin in the mud, there the weans go feedin the ducks wae thur bit a breed, the Maxwell femily ur oan the bricks hivn a wee cuppa tea and a wee bicky tae.


JEAN-LUC LIVINGSTONE Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

43 Nature

Leaves, bark, rivers and trees all around Pollok Park I see, Beautiful patterns on the leaves, That are lovely like the wind breeze, The river’s flowing underneath me, Nobody around, just me, The trees growing with amazing leaves That is all that I can see, The rivers flowing the trees growing, Nature all around me.


SOPHIE LUC Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

44 Pollok Hoose

Muckle gates looming tall, Mounds o ivy on the wall, Bunches of flooers carved in stone Self-pitying maids doing nothing but moan. Archways of stone to enter the hoose, A barking wee puppy that’s gone on the loose, Tall dashing footmen stand at the door, The whinnying o horses oot on the moor. That’s Pollok Hoose.


LEO MA CLEAN and MA TTHEW WRIGHT MACLEAN MATTHEW Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

45 Pine Cone Picked at and flaky, It smells like ginger bread, Not new, Elderly and wilted. Curved and flattened, Over aged dead, Nearly as sharp as a knife, Ever lasting in my pocket.


LEO MA CLEAN and MA TTHEW WRIGHT MACLEAN MATTHEW Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

46 A Strange Bit of Wood I saw a bit of wood that looked like chicken, Gerry said, “use your taste but no lickin” A bit of wood that smells real bad, If it broke I would be sad, Because I’ve had that bit of wood Since I was a lad.


AMBER MA CPHERSON MACPHERSON Primary 6 St Marnock’s Primary School

47 Who am I?

A A A A

run frew the fields , roll in the mud , guard the hoose, love being with Sir John. Who am I?


ANIY A MANN ANIYA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

48 The Vine Gargoyle Once there was a girl named Aniya. She decided to go to Pollok House for a walk. On the way, she saw a lot of things. It was a frosty day and Aniya nearly slipped on the ice, but she didn’t! She heard birds tweeting, horses going past and saw a beautiful maze. As she went past Aniya found an archway. It was a magnificent, tall archway. While more horses came by the sun started to shine! Aniya saw a very, very creepy gargoyle. It felt like he was telling her these words, “You will fall, ground crumbles,” The gargoyle didn’t make any sense. Aniya wondered what that weirdo was saying. Just after the sun went away she went to the maze again. This time Aniya noticed vines – big, tall vines! Aniya felt the ground crumbling – almost like a disastrous earthquake! She thought it was. “HELP!!! AAAGH! NO!!!” she screamed. A family was out. They never heard Aniya scream, they were right across the road. “Please, anyone! I don’t care who it is, JUST HELP ME!!” Still no-one heard her – they must have been talking.


TIA MANSBRIDGE Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

49 Pollok Hoose Pollok Hoose is a canny auld place Even when it’s cald, an ye cannae feel yer face When ye enter the gate an see the muckle hoose Ye feel so small, like a teeny wee moose The large wooden door, when it opens ye see The servants and cooks all welcoming me All the windees are closed, it’s too cald already An lying on the stairs, the wee wain’s teddy A stroll in the garden is just what I need An there’s the gardener, killin a weed The fresh smell o daisies encircled ma heed Like in that book, the wains all read When it’s time tae go, we all say goodbye A cook just brings oot a big apple pie When the pie’s a’ gone, we really must go We all thank the manager, our good friend, Joe.


RA CHEL MCAR THUR RACHEL MCARTHUR Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

50 Pollok Hoose Dug

A run aboot Pollok Hoose, Causin havoc, like a teeny wee moose, Ye see, things distract me, like the maids’ muckle dresses, But when a try tae play wi them, it just causes messes, “Off wi ye noo,” or “I’ll have ye for supper,” They’ll no dae it though, A’ve nae got enough blubber, A wish they’d let me oot the hoose, it really isnae fair, All A want is a bit o kindly love, and a bit o tender care, A’m gonnae run awa noo, a think tae masel, Right noo the maids are sleepin, so they cannae tell, The wee door lies ajar, waitin just fir me, So, a buzz outside, like a tiny bumble bee, It’s eerie and dark, and scary and black, And a voice in ma heid says that A should turn back, Before it all gets a bit too much, A pounce back inside, no a lion, just a dug, Home again, home again, sweet, sweet home, Just in time fir ma night time bone.


GREGOR MCDO WALL MCDOW Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

51 Acrostic Poems

Round grey stone Open view of rivers Countryside Kaleidoscope of colour

Leaves Empty Air light Vines Evergreen Shiny


LIAM MCGINNIT Y MCGINNITY Primary 6a St Marnock’s Primary School

52 Who or what am a?

A like makin folk feart Brekkin windaes Inta the big livin room Tossin chairs aboot Smashin ornaments the maist expensive wans Ruinin paintins Maist of aw the big wans A love screamin aboot the hoose scarin weans, snappin thir toys grabbin spiders flingen them at the kidz Who or what am a?


HIBAH MOHAMMED Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

53 Pollok House

One sunny day I, Hibah Mohammed, went out for a walk near the river. As I skipped along I slipped on some mud and fell into the river it was very scary because I saw so many faces. After a few seconds I grabbed on the glorious bridge. The servant ran and grabbed me and gave me a nice cup of hot chocolate in front of the roasting fire. Inside the cup, I saw the face ‌


TAMANI OSMAN Primary 6a St Marnock’s Primary School

54 The King

Shovelin an shiftin mach manky stauff, but am happy at ma work. Up at cradle of dawn get ma breeks an wellies on. Gae’s ma shovel and it’s aff to the stables a go. Sometime am fast, sometime am slow. Get them aw cleaned, get them aw fed, noo they’re ready for the day ahead!


GEOR GE PURSER GEORGE Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

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I WASH, I CLEAN, I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SEEN, WHAT AM I?


MIKAEEL RAN A RANA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

56 Nature Poem Pieces falling off and crumbling, Underneath it is wasting away, Nothing new about it, Kicking it across the ground Incredibly soft, Very shiny and smooth, You can touch it‌


MIKAEEL RAN A RANA Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

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I’m a jumpin’ wee green amphibian, I jump in the water, I hibernate thro’ the winter,

Whit am a?


ZARA REHMAN Junior 7 Craigholme Junior School

58 Pollok Hoose

A lad on the balcony looking at his prized cars, A lassie at the windae staring intay Mars, Look at the hoose it’s so muckle, Oh no fix my shoe buckle, Twa lions on each side of the Scots shield, O now look at the green fields, They Maxwells are sae grand, Oh listen ay that bagpipe band, All the furniture are sae auld, And nae sight o any mould, Look at all the deer, They are all so near, And when you see the moose, Ye know you’re at Pollok hoose.


STU AR OBINSON STUAR ARTT R ROBINSON Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

59 Look Thro’ the Windaes Look thro’ the windaes what dae ya see? A young lass playin or a guest arrivin fur tea? The warm sun shining doon on oor faces, Look at the wee lassie what she daein? Runnin through the maze happily or just playin’? Look at the pain’ins what are they aboot? Ladies on horses and goin o’er bridges. Look thro’ the windaes what dae ya see?


MUJ AHID AS AR WAR MUJAHID AHIDA SAR ARW Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

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Fancy like a dancer Lovely colour pink Olive oil’s best friend Wet when it rains Eggs for breakfast Rudolph the reindeer eats it on Christmas


FINLA Y SLADE FINLAY Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

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Windaes big doors hunners of lums as well Sir John peekin through the windaes with his daughter in the background playin with her dolls clear blue with birdies singin big walls milk man driftin across the bridge dugs barkin at stain lions fish swimin in the burn.


CAITLIN STRA CHAN STRACHAN Primary 6a St Marnock’s Primary School

62 Pollok Hoose

Windaes mankey, blinds mankey and aw the lums smokey, Ghastes, keekin through windaes, run away with scaredness! Heilan coos up in the field lookin fur some water and Clydesdale horses lookin for some food. Mazes are grassy and jaggy but also beautiful too. The Summer Hoose with big brick walls and round windaes wae round doors. The bridge and the burn and a huge entrance, Beautiful grass and flowers too. Big huge hoose with pretty paintings, Beautiful flowers and lovely mazes!


HAKAN TURAN Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

63 Grit

Gorgeous like the sun, Reindeers having fun, Itching on my skin, Trodden on by the boots.


JO ANNE WRIGHT JOANNE Primary 6a St Marnock’s Primary School

64 Poem

Who? My name is Mabelica Annderious I am the Queen I am wearing a red and blue dress with diamond shoes and a fancy hat with a diamond fan I have white gloves that shine. Where? I am in the stone alahvania I like blue dresses red too I have Diamond shoes that’re blue I don’t like marble floors they Have too much of muddy paws. What happens? Earlier I played cards with my friends I won! And I bought new pens. Now I am having a sweet cup of tea! With a crumbled cookie. Later I’ll have a bath, a can of cider and a touch of lager.


LYBA Y OUNIS YOUNIS Primary 6 Shawlands Primary School

65 Pollok Hoose

A tidy the beds, A gie the sheets, Tae the doonstairs maid, A clean the windaes, They’re manky mingin’, Look at ma guid pinny, Aw skanky polishin’ the furniture, A work aw the time, A get so tired, What am a?


Songwriting Workshop with Linda Jackson


CRAIGHOLME JUNIOR SCHOOL FOR GIRLS (JUNIOR 7) 68

Group 2 (19 February morning session) (Chorus) Scotland, Scotland! Scotland, Scotland! Passion in our heart We always play our part We never feel alone Scotland is our home. (Chorus) Our pride burns like a flame Igniting hearts with glory So different, yet the same Scotland is our story. (Chorus) Passion is our power We are the tartan band The thistle is our flower Scotland – Hand in Hand. (Chorus) – ends.


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Group 1 (19 February afternoon session) (Chorus) Scotland, Scotland! Scotland, Scotland! In Scotland we do trust Our athletes they are true Scotland as it must Bring home joy to you. (Chorus) Power is our soul The future’s in our hands Our country as the goal Scotland is our land. (Chorus) A flame is in our soul In Scotland we burn bright Our name is known to all Our hearts are always light. (Chorus) – ends.


ADDITIONAL Songwriting Workshops NTS, Atlantic Seaway and the Berklee Institute of Boston, USA

Key to the Past BY CHILDREN FR OM SHA WLANDS PRIMAR Y7 FROM SHAWLANDS PRIMARY This song along with two musical pieces written by the children were performed by them at two Celtic Connections concerts at Pollok House with seven professional musicians The wind blows the spells hangin’in the trees, The wind blows the spells hangin’ in the trees, When I close my eyes, I hear birds singin’ to me. When I look in the mirror all I see is me, When I look in the mirror all I see is me, There’s a door to the past if only I could find the key. Ghost of a girl floats in to view, Ghost of a girl floats in to view, The key’s in a book, she whispers the clue. Instrumental with vocal harmony: Ooooooo, ooooooo, repeat x 3 With books in my hand I search forever more, With books in my hand I search forever more, Because each book’s a key to a different door, Because each book’s a key to a different door, Because each book’s a key to a different door. (last line sung softly)


Children’s Writing Exercises

The Adventures of

Quick the Little Pollok Duckling by Joe Murray


The Adventures of 72

the Little Pollok Duckling by Joe Murray 1 Gone Sailing “Mrs Mallard!” shouted Charlie, wiping duckweed off his tail feathers, “please control your children.” Mrs Mallard looked down at her brood of chicks and smiled. They all looked up at her and pointed at the smallest chick of them all, “It was her, mummy,” they all cried. “Are you being naughty again, Quick?” she asked softly. “Yeeees, muuuum,” replied Quick, “but ... I didn’t mean it ... they told me to.” All the others began giggling. “We’re borrrrrrrrrred, mum!!!” “Oh dear,” said Mrs Mallard, “even so, you really ought to leave poor Mr Drake alone.” She lifted her wing, “come on snuggle under, it will be getting dark soon.” “Awwww, muuuum,” they all said, but rushed to snuggle under her wings all the same. The weather over the last three days had been terribly stormy with high winds and lots of rain. The river was very swollen and much higher and wider than usual as it rushed past the nesting site. Quick looked over to the other side of the river – it looked so far away now. She heard a little voice calling her name.


73 “Hey, Quick, are you coming out to play?” It was Donald from the next nest along. Quick poked her head out from beneath her mummy’s wing. “Donald! Mum, can I go out to play with Donald pleeeeease!” “No, dear, it’s getting dark, and it’s raining again.” She looked at Donald, “you should be with your own mummy, hurry home now.” Donald turned and crawled under his mummy’s wing and looked out over at Quick who was peeking out from under her mummy’s feathers too. Quick felt her mummy relax and, looking up, saw her eyes closing as she fell asleep. Both Quick and Donald quietly and softly pulled themselves out from under the feathers and sped off together down to the riverbank. The heavy rain over the last few days had made its mark on the river which was now flowing very fast – faster than both of them had ever seen. The sound of the water falling over the weir was very loud like thunder. They stood on the bank and watched the brown water flowing by them very fast and away under the bridge. The river swirled and gurgled; it whooshed like the sound of the wind in the branches above them. A tree that had fallen down rushed past, its branches sticking up like the masts on a big sailing boat.


74 Donald and Quick snuggled a little closer to keep warm. “You are my best friend, Quick,” said Donald, “do you think that when we get older we will still be best friends?” Quick smiled, but didn’t say anything. It was nice being here with Donald, watching the river flow by. Donald suddenly sprang up. “Tag, you’re it!” he laughed and ran off. Quick giggled and ran after him. “I’m gonna get you, Donald, you’ll see ... then you’ll be it,” she laughed. They both chased along the riverbank laughing and giggling as night time began to descend on Pollok Park and the Cart River where they lived. Their squeals of delight could be heard all around. “Quick ... Donald,” called both of their mothers, “come here at once.” Donald hid behind a tree root and Quick was trying to find him. “Donald, where are you?” she called. Donald stayed hidden and giggled. “Quick ... Donald,” called both of their mothers again, “come here ... come here at once.” Quick thought she could hear Donald giggling near the tree root, but she looked back to where she heard her mother calling. As she turned her foot slipped in the mud and she slid right down the riverbank and fell into the fast flowing water with hardly a plop.


75 Quick struggled to get out, but the fast current pulled her into the middle of the river. A big wave crashed down on her and pushed her under the water. When she came up again she saw that she had been swept far downriver and could no longer see or hear her mummy calling. The riverbank seemed so far away and she could not swim strongly enough to make her way towards it, she was completely at the mercy of the fast flowing, muddy water. Quick paddled as hard as she could to try and guide herself away from some of the floating wood around her. Every now and again she would be submerged by another big wave. She was a small duckling and very light so she swiftly bobbed back to the surface again. Suddenly, Quick was in midair as she crashed over a weir further down the river. She splashed into the river again, but the force of the water coming over the weir pushed her deeper than she had ever been before. Quick struggled to reach the surface – there was water in her nose and throat. Suddenly, she was free and gasping for air while still being tumbled by the strong currents. Almost too late, she saw another large tree, just like the one she had seen sail by her and Donald, come crashing towards her through the big waves. The branches towered over her and just as it was


76 about to run her over the current pulled Quick away from it. As the tree flowed past her, she made a dash for one of its branches and pulled herself on. She ran along the branch and up on to the main trunk. Out of the water now, Quick clung on to the tree as it rushed down the river. Everything around her now was different. The bank was lined by many trees and bushes. Gone was the familiar riverbank, with its big house and open view, where her mummy and sisters were; where Donald was. They all seemed so far away. Frightened, and with no idea where she was going, Quick trembled. She wondered if she would ever see them again. The rain had stopped and the clouds had gone, the dark sky was lit by a big moon. From where Quick now sat on the tree, the big, brown, wide river looked flat and smooth in the moonlight. It reminded her of the road between her riverbank and the big house near where she lived, but sitting there on the big tree she realised she was travelling very fast – much faster than Mr Drake could swim, and he was a very fast swimmer. The river was much wider than Quick had ever seen it before and up ahead she could see that it curved away to the left. Her tree kept going in a straight line and headed for the edge of the river. It crashed straight into the bank and the force of


77 the collision threw Quick forward and she banged her head on a small branch. Dazed, she felt the tree slowly turn and then she was travelling backwards down the river. After only a few minutes the tree was swept around another corner and under a high bridge. The sound and the yellow and red of lights of cars flashed by overhead. Her tree boat sailed on along the river and into a tunnel. Out the other side her wet tree boat gleamed from the lights of houses much smaller than the one where she lived. Suddenly, she felt another thud and the tree stopped. Quick turned to look, but blood from the cut on her head had run into her eye making it difficult to see. She felt the tree slowly turn again and then come to rest. When she had wiped her eyes she could see that the tree was jammed between two outcrops from the bank and it had created a calm pool between the tree and the bank. Quick jumped into the water and swam towards the bank where she sat alone and bewildered. Just a short while ago she was with her friends and family, in a place she knew and felt safe. Now she was in a strange land where she knew nothing and no-one. The moon and the stars shone brightly down on Quick. She shivered again, as much from cold as fear. Quick waddled through the wet grass and came across an old tree stump. There was a hollow on


78 one side of it and she climbed in. There were some old dried leaves in there and some moss. Out of the cold night air, Quick began to feel warm and soon she was sound asleep.

2 Next Day Quick woke up with the morning sun shining into the little hollow where she had been sleeping. Its warmth made her feel a little better, though her head hurt from the cut she received the night before and her eye was crusty with dried blood. Quick climbed out of the tree stump and stood in the sunlight. From her good eye she could see that the river level had gone down to almost normal. Her treeboat was still there, though it was now high and dry out of the water, and partly submerged in mud. “Hey, you!� called a squeaky wee voice ...


Writing Exercise: Story writing 1 79 Finish chapter 2, which is about the next day of Quick’s adventure (this can be a group effort). Start with this squeaky voiced character I have just introduced.

• Who and what are they? • Will this character be friendly and helpful? • Does this character have friends; if so, who and what might they be?

• What other characters might Quick meet today?

• Will any of them be a danger to her? • What adventure might she have trying to get back home today? NOTE: Quick is now a mile downriver from her home (a long way for a small duckling). She is also on the opposite bank from where Donald and her family are, and will need to somehow get across. The river level is falling, but it is still wider than usual and still flowing quite fast in the opposite direction from her home. Apart from the river, what else might be dangerous for Quick?


80 Clues: she is small and quite edible to other creatures such as a large heron, gulls, stoats, weasels, even domestic cats. Aids: lots of trees have fallen down in the storm; friends who might help her (humans too). Her mummy and family out looking for her might find her (bit easy though). NB Do not create too many characters as this can get too complicated, two or three is fine.


Writing Exercise: Story writing 2 81 Write a story about your favourite day. This story could be about: • the day your wee brother or sister was born • your first day at school • a great fun day during the summer break • an adventure with your pals • a day at a funfair • a friend’s party • a nice walk – by yourself, or with friends or family – what did you see? • seeing someone you hadn’t seen for a long time • the best birthday or holiday you ever had When writing your story try and ‘show’ your reader what you see or what is happening rather than simply telling them. How do we do that? Telling (just making a list): ‘The country lane was quiet and there were bushes with berries and birds and bees. There were flowers there too and a big tree. Showing (drawing a picture with words for your reader to imagine): When we turned off the road we found ourselves in a narrow lane. The hedges on each side were high and cut out the noise of the road. Now only birds singing and the buzzing of bees. I reached between the reds, yellows and blues of wild flowers to where the bunches of brambles stood out black on the bush; I picked one. As the juice ran between my fingers, John shouted, ‘Let’s go climb that tree!’


Writing Exercise: Writing a Poem 82 Write a poem about something you saw today. It could be about anything. Here’s one I wrote while sitting in our garden on a beautiful summer’s morning: In Jan’s garden, where I’m sat butterfly, bee and our black cat; peacefulness is simply that, butterfly, bee and our black cat. Joe Murray 2013 It is a poem that reflects a particular moment; it is quite short with a simple rhyming pattern. If it is a nice day maybe the class can sit outside. Try sitting quietly and hear and feel what is going on around you. A bird flying by, or sounds in the distance, or flowers waving in the breeze. How does the grass feel to sit on? Are there wild flowers such as daisies and buttercups, dandelions, are bees or other insects going about their business around you? How do you FEEL? Write it down. It doesn’t need to be a poem yet, but try to think of things in that way. Here is another short poem I wrote walking to work last winter. This is a poem that does not rhyme, but it does have a rhythm.


83 Ice It is not like it was some mountain glacier or an azure frozen wave a shelf broken off the Antarctic icesheet or a village curling pond. Until this morning’s frost just a puddle in an old muddy tyre track become an opaque sliver of glazing surrounded by three small boys – fascinated. Joe Murray 2013 Try writing a poem that rhymes and then write another on the same subject that does not rhyme. How do they sound to you? Do they feel different when you read them or say them out loud? Here is another type of poem, it is called a haiku (high-koo). These do not normally rhyme, but they do have a very particular measure. They usually have three lines of five syllables; seven syllables and five syllables. It is a good exercise to learn how to construct a poem. Thrush in the Lime tree branches dancing in the wind shelter from the storm. Joe Murray 2013


84 Syllables are the parts that make up words. They are like sounds and usually have a vowel. For instance water has two syllables ‘wa’ and ‘ter’. The word syllable itself has three syllables: syll–a–ble; po–eh–tree has three, and so on. How many syllables has the word: headteacher? How many syllables are there in the word: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? I’m only kidding! Unless, of course, you want to try it. Be my guest. Think of a word you use everyday, write it down and see how many syllables it has. Let’s look at the haiku again and see how I made it up with lines of 5-7-5 syllables. 1 2 3 4 5 Thrush in the Lime tree 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 branch—es danc—ing in the wind 1 2 3 4 5 shel—ter from the storm Haiku is very economical with language – that means we try and say much with just a few words. Here I have shown a little scene in my garden, but the poem tries to say more than just a bird in a


85 bush on a windy day. I used the word show before. Good writers always try and describe what they want their readers to see or imagine. Dictionaries tell you what you need to know, while novels and poems should feed your imagination. Okay, let’s write a haiku. Here’s a template for you to work from. I’ll even give you the first line. 1 2 3 4 5 Squir—rel with a nut

1

2

3

4

5

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Make up the next two lines using the template and the right amount of syllables. It can be anything you want. Show us what you see. Creative writing can be hard work sometimes, but always it is great fun. You get to use your imagination and you have the freedom to invent and write about anything, and in any form, you like. However, like most things in life, practice makes perfect. So keep writing and remember always to have fun.


Biographies

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KEN COCKBURN I was born in Kirkcaldy in 1960, and went to school there and in Edinburgh, later studying French and German at Aberdeen University, and Theatre Studies at University College Cardiff. In Wales I worked with various touring theatre companies, returning to Scotland in 1990. I worked for some years in art galleries; on the 1995 reading campaign Readiscovery. I drove the library van for the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh from 1996 to 2004. We visited schools, libraries, community halls and prisons across Scotland, lending books and running workshops. With Alec Finlay I established and ran pocketbooks, an awardwinning series of books of poetry and visual art (1999-2002), and was a director of platform projects, its successor company, until 2006. Since 2004 I’ve worked freelance, as a poet, editor, translator and writing tutor, based in Edinburgh. I was awarded Scottish Arts Council Writers’ Bursaries in 1996 and 2005, and the Arts Foundation Fellowship for Literary Translation 2008. In 2010 Alec Finlay and I received a Creative Scotland Vital Spark Award for the collaborative project The Road North. LIND A JJA ACKSON LINDA Linda Jackson/Jaxson works as a writer/tutor and musician. She has made four albums of music, including many original songs out there, has been performing in Scotland, Australia, Europe and Canada and likes to describe herself as a ‘genre butterfly’. With a PhD in literature and Philosophy, she moved away from the academy to set up creative writing classes. With Arts Council support, she has one novel (almost there) and another underway. Linda has published both poetry and short stories and has been the backbone of the Professional Writing Course, based originally in City College, Glasgow, and now at Strathclyde University. Organiser of the infamous ‘Reading the Waves’ night at Street Level Art Gallery, she now organises Muse the literary and music evenings at St Louis in Glasgow. Linda likes to think of herself as a catalyst for others to think, write and sing.


GERR Y LLOOSE OOSE : GERRY Born in 1948 I’ve lived in England, Ireland, Spain, Morocco (briefly) & now Scotland. A slow-moving nomad. Work has been in poetry, agriculture & horticulture. I also design & make gardens. My poetry is as likely to appear in these (& ungardened landscapes) as on the page. Principal Publications that person himself: a book length poem (Shearsman 2009) the deer path to my door: poems (Oystercatcher 2009) starworks: poem foldout (Longhouse, Vermont 2009) 10 Seasons: explorations in Botanics (editor) (Luath / SPL 2007) Printed on Water: New & Selected Poems (Shearsman Books 2007) Seed Catalogue with photographs by Morven Gregor (Yorkshire Sculpture Park 2006) Eitgal (Mariscat 2001) Tongues of Stone (Mariscat 1998) a measure (Mythic Horse Press 1996) The Elementary Particles (Taranis 1993) Awards Creative Scotland Award 2006 Robert Louis Stevenson Award 2006 Society of Authors Award 2004 Arts on Prescription Award 2001 Radio Plays Eitgal RTE, Dublin Crow Work RTE, Dublin Some Commissions Mouth of Silence a play for Birds of Paradise Theatre Co. 2006 Sunlight Become Speech installation Hidden Gardens 2005 I Confess signed monologue for Arches Theatre 2005 Discussing Herons (for National Poetry Day) BBC 2004 what can be read (for National Poetry Day) BBC 2003 5 poems inscribed on stone Hidden Gardens 2002 Kaki Tree, commemorative poem 2002 Poetry Garden 2001 Kirklee Bridge centenary inscription 2000 Films Silent Passage 1999 The Kaki Tree Glasgow 2002 Unearthed 2001 The Valentine Tree 2000

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JOE MURRA Y MURRAY Joe spent many years in publishing as an editor, typesetter and designer of books and magazines. He is a founder and editor of the literary journal West Coast Magazine, Taranis Books and Mythic Horse Press. He spent many years working on the design and production of books by writer and artist Alasdair Gray. He has produced books, journals and magazines for many other publishers; among them the Association of Scottish Literary Studies, The British Library, Mariscat Press, Survivors’ Poetry Scotland, Media Education Journal, Open World Poetics and many more. He has recently returned to writing poetry after a long absence. A short Collection, Ruchazie Moon and some other poems was published by Neruda Press in 1998; he has also been published in a whole bunch of journals, magazines and anthologies including New Writing Scotland and Back to the Light. He has a BSc in Ecology and Environmental Science and a PhD in the field of environmental management. In the last five or so years he has worked with the National Trust for Scotland, originally as a countryside ranger for nearly two years, but now runs learning programmes for schools at Pollok House, and takes school children on nature walks at Holmwood House in Glasgow. LIZ NIVEN Liz Niven is one of Scotland’s most popular poetry facilitators. She is a poet writing in English and Scots, and has published several poetry collections, including The Shard Box, Burning Whins, Stravaigin (Luath Press Ltd). She has written and edited texts to support Scots and English language work in education and appeared in literary and language events in Europe, Scandinavia and the Far East. She teaches creative writing, has held writing fellowships throughout Scotland and works with hundreds of pupils throughout the year, inspiring them to write their own poetry. Her collaborative work includes various projects with artists, photographers and sculptors. The public art work Cree Lines in south-west Scotland was a text-led collaboration with Scottish Natural Heritage. Her Inverness Airport Residency was the subject of an ITV documentary Poet on a Plane. Previous posts held include teaching English and Learning Support, Scots Language Development Officer, Cultural Co-


ordinator for creative writing in Dumfries & Galloway schools. She co-edited New Writing Scotland for the ASLS from 2006-2009. She has been awarded two Scottish Arts Council Writers’ Bursaries and a Year of the Artist award for engaging with land users in south-west Scotland. In 2006, Liz Niven was an award winner for the third time in the Glasgow University McCash Scots Poetry Prize. She has twice received a TES/Saltire Award for co-authoring and editing books for education; The Kist/A Chiste and Turnstones. Stories and poems have been widely published in newspapers, anthologies and magazines and broadcast on radio BBC Scotland, Four, Ulster and World Service and Chinese Radio International. BRIAN WHITTINGHAM Brian Whittingham is a poet, playwright, freelance editor, and lecturer. In 2000 he won first prize in the Sunday Herald short story competition and his short fiction has been widely anthologised. A former steelworker/draughtsman, Brian performed his steelworking poems as part of the BBC’s Ballad of the Big Ships Live in Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall in 2007. Brian has published six poetry collections, including, Bunnets and Bowlers (2009) and The Old Man from Brooklyn (2000) and, for children, Septimus Pitt and the Grumbleoids (2007). Four of his stage plays have been performed by Scottish theatre companies. In 2006-2008 he was co-editor of New Writing Scotland (Glasgow: ASLS). In 2011, Brian was visiting professor of creative writing at Seattle University, Washington DC, where he taught a narrative poetry class. His recent collection of Labour Poetry, entitled, Clocking In Clocking Out: poems and photographs on the subject of work (Edinburgh: Luath Press) was completed during his time in Seattle. Brian lectures on creative writing at the City of Glasgow College and is currently working with Kelvingrove Museum’s education department on his shipbuilding play entitled THREE NIGHTS AND A SUNDAY which will be rolled out countrywide as a resource for Curriculum for Excellence in Scottish schools. Brian held a writing fellowship at the Yaddo artist colony in New York in 1994, and in 2008 he received a Robert Louis Stevenson Fellowship at Chevillon Grez in France. He has taught and preformed his work across Scotland, England, Ireland, Europe and the USA.

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The National Trust for Scotland for Places of Historic Interest or Natural Beauty is a charity registered in Scotland, Charity Number SC 007410. We are independent of government and are Scotland’s largest membership organisation – 312,000 people across the world share our passion for our country’s heritage. You can read our Statement of Political Neutrality here: www.nts.org.uk/Downloads/STATEMENT OF POLITICAL NEUTRALITY January 2013.pdf The National Trust for Scotland was established in 1931 in order to protect and promote Scotland’s natural and cultural heritage for present and future generations to enjoy. As a charity, we depend on donations, legacies, grants and membership subscriptions so that we can act as guardian of Scotland’s magnificent heritage of architectural, scenic and historic treasures. http://www.nts.org.uk/ Become a member www.nts.org.uk/Membership Joining online is the quickest way to become a member. However, if you prefer you can join by telephone. Call 0844 493 2100 (from outside the UK call +44 131 458 0303) 9am – 5.00pm GMT Monday – Friday You can make a donation to the National Trust for Scotland here: www.nts.org.uk/Donations/


In February 2013 the learning team at Pollok House hosted a series of children's writing workshops. These included, art and poetry, writing in Scots, nature in poetry, writing a story, and writing a song. Also present were five professional writers highly experienced in working with children: Brian Whittingham, Linda Jackson, Liz Niven, Ken Cockburn and Gerry Loose. Around 150 children from four local schools attended the workshops held over three full days – each child attended two different workshops during their visit. The schools were: Craigholme Junior School, Crookston Castle Primary School, Shawlands Primary School and St Marnock’s Primary School. This book contains poems, stories and songs from 48 of those children.

Mythic Horse Press

Keekin Through Windaes  

Children's creative writing by P7 students produced during and after a three day writing festival for schools held with the National Trust f...

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