RBW Online ISSUE 205
Date: 16th September 2011
Have Your Odd Odes, Squeaky Stanzas, Or Sparkling Sonnets Missed The Boat? Worry Not Budding Bard ... You can Still see Them in Print Simply send Them in for Inclusion in The Bulletin ...
Message from the Poetry Editor: The submission period for AD LIB, the 2012 Poetry Collection, has now closed. Thank you to everyone who has submitted.
Thoughts & Quotes ... Go on, have a chuckle! Kulula Airlines ... (Honest: Search on Google if you think we made this up, and thank you to Jeff for sending this chuckle in to us) http://www.southafrica.to/transport/Airlines/Kulula-flights/Kulula-humour.php5Other Kulula humour Kulula's airline attendants and pilots are known globally for injecting a sense of humour into in-flight situations: "Please pay attention to the safety announcement, because you will be writing a test shortly". "If you are caught smoking, you will be asked to leave the aircraft". "You could be fined up to R7999 for smoking on the plane, and for these prices you could be flying SAA" "Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached cruising altitude and will be turning down the cabin lights. This is for your comfort and to enhance the appearance of your flight attendants." "Me Tarzan, You on hold", when phoning Kulula and being put on hold. "To operate your seat belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull the belt tight. It works just like every other seat belt; and, if you don't know how to operate one by now, then you probably shouldn't be allowed out in public unsupervised." "There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there are only 4 ways out of this airplane." "In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child travelling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. If you are travelling with more than one small child, pick your favourite." "Your seat cushions can be used for flotation; and in the event of an emergency water land ing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments." As the plane landed and was coming to a stop at Durban Airport, a lone voice came over the loudspeaker: "Whoa, big fella. WHOA!" "Please be sure to take all of your belongings. If you're going to leave anything, please make sure it's something we'd like to have." "Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed in Cape Town. Please take all your possessions. Anything left behind will be shared equally between staff. Please note we do not accept unwanted mothers-in-law or children." "As you exit the plane, make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses." "Kulula Airlines is pleased to announce that we have some of the best flight attendants in the industry. Unfortunately, none of them are on this flight!" "Welcome to Johannesburg, if this is not where you were intending to go then you have a bit you have a bit of a problem"
BOOK ORDERING To
order : Cheques payable to Rising Brook Writers, please. (Do not send cash through the post.) All are plus £1.20 P&P Order via Rising Brook Writers c/o Rising Brook Library, Merrey Road, Stafford ST17 9LX Back Stock List Available: FARE DEAL (£5.00) Issue 205 Page 2
STILL WATERS (£5.00)
Words of the Week ragamuffin n 1. A dirty, shabbily-clothed child; an urchin. Urchin or urcheon is the Middle English term for "hedgehog" disparate adj 1. Composed of inherently different or distinct elements; incongruous. Markedly different. eccentric adj 1. Not perfectly circular, such as an orbit. 2. Deviating from the norm; behaving unexpectedly. (physiology): Acting against or in the opposite direction of a muscle's contraction. oxymoron n 1. A figure of speech in which two words of opposing meanings are used together to express two contrasting qualities in one concept. (informally): A contradiction in terms. lignify v 1. To become wood. (botany): To develop woody tissue as a result of secondary growth. lachrymose adj 1. Tearful; causing tears or crying. pragmatic adj 1. Practical; concerned with making decisions and actions that are useful in practice, not just in theory.
LIFE OBSERVATIONS ... You don’t realise how much you use your thumb until it is strapped up in plaster It’s been a bit windy this week. When did anyone waiting at a bus stop ever smile? There is a great difference between being on ones own and being lonely. Wasps drunk on the decaying plums rotting under the tree are very aggressive to each other and to anyone foolish enough to disturb them.
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Assignment: Character building spanning three decades — how would their attitudes change over that time? Random Words: idiot, ginger, radiator, ancestor, dragon, immaculate, remembrance, waterfall, Margaret
These Are Your Pages SEAT OF THE CHAIR John Price
At some time or other most writers feel that if they are the statues, editors are the pigeons. It‘s all right for editors, sitting in their offices, red pens poised. They have the easy job: a complete manuscript to pick over for revisions or, easier still, to be returned as ‗not what we‘re looking for‘. They are never faced with black computer screens; they don‘t sweat blood and tears to create something out of nothing. After all, didn‘t TS Eliot say, ‗Most editors are failed writers‘? Things look different from a pigeon‘s point of view. Writers do make it difficult for themselves: they don‘t write what editors needed, what readers want to read. They start the story in the wrong place; use too many words; they miss out the commas that are needed and put in those that aren‘t. That‘s probably why TS Eliot added, ‗but so are most writers‘. The question is: can writers learn anything from pigeons – I mean, from editors? (That‘s the trouble with analogies; knowing when to stop.) It‘s certainly true that faced with another writer‘s completed manuscript it‘s hard for any of us to resist ‗improving‘ it. In HG Wells‘ words, ‗No passion in the world is equal to the passion to alter someone else‘s draft‘. If we can bring that passion to editing our own work, though, our submissions are going to be all the better for it. We‘re always told to put what we think is the final draft of our work on one side for a few days before we submit it. Off the desk, in a draw, removes it from our thoughts and distances us from the emotions involved in creating it. Anything that reduces the sense of ownership when it‘s time for the final edit is helpful: printing a copy in a coloured font on coloured paper (which none of us would ever do with an actual submission) and with our least-favourite writer‘s name on top can have the most proprietorial of writers reaching for the red pen. When we‘re editing we‘re in pigeon-mode: looking at the big picture. Cross-checking against the writers‘ guidelines for our target market will avoid upsetting the editor before she‘s even started to read. Reading the piece aloud reveals those repetitive words, typos, grammatical errors and awkward phrasing that we tend to miss when we read to ourselves. Of course, there‘s no guarantee that editors won‘t still reject our work; pigeons will do what pigeons do. But if we systematically edit our own work we do, at least reduce the spread of laxative.
Random words: idiot, ginger, radiator, ancestor, dragon, immaculate, remembrance, waterfall, Margaret (AB)
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The sounds of the cataract spilling headlong over the gaps and fissures of the waterfall echoed round the glen, as did the plaintiff cries of the Siamese Blue captive in the cat box. Immaculate as ever, without a hair out of place, Lady Margaret held the ginger kitten, a cuckoo-in-the-nest, in one hand by the scruff of its neck and the sack in the other. ‗Don‘t be an idiot,‘ said one voice in her head. ‗Drop it,‘ said another, ‗it‘s the only way.‘ As an act of remembrance to the ancestors of this place, a sacrifice had to be made. Blue Dragon‘s unwanted offspring might pacify the water-gods of Ballycum-lately Hall. She hesitated, was there no other way to stem the leak in the attic radiator which had defied every plumber for miles around?
These Are Your Pages Games CMH ‘Not safe these games,’ Shandy pontificated around the edge of his glass. ‘Too many accidents and not enough thought.’ Pipe pondered as he said, ‘Well there are always the referees. I thought the idea was that they should keep the thing under control. You know ensure that the free kicks are fair, and send off those who ignore the rules. At least that’s what I thought Soccer was all about.’ ‘I’m not talking about Soccer or even Rugger for that matter. No! They’re as safe as houses,’ Shandy replied. ‘No, it’s Back Gammon and Tiddley Winks that’s dangerous.’ ‘Can’t be,’ G&T said. ‘No way can Tiddley Winks be dangerous! It’s not a contact sport is it?’ ‘Excitement, too much excitement. That’s the problem.’ Shandy explained. ‘I understand that the Cobbles first six team lost a member only last week. Couldn’t take the excitement they said.’ ‘Didn’t hear about that,’ Pipe remarked. ‘The new barmaid down at the Tripe & Onions running away with the Postman; I heard that. Mind you they got that wrong as well! It wasn’t the postman at all! No, it was the temporary milkman. The postman’s off on holiday with her boyfriend.’ ‘Anyway,’ Shandy returned to his topic, ‘tonight’s match has been cancelled, unless they can come up with a substitute.’ G&T interjected, it was the only way he could get a word in, ‘I thought they had a substitute on the books. That new man at the garage.’ ‘Can’t make it,’ Pipe explained. ‘He’s off on holiday with his girlfriend, the postman.’ ‘Why?’ Asked Pipe, ‘is Tiddley Winks dangerous? ‘Obvious in’ it! The match is at its height: drawn match, level pegging on points with everything to play for and then! Bingo!’ Shandy replied. ‘You gets toddled in the eye with a flying wink. Completely puts you off your game and you lose.’ ‘Well accidents do happen,’ Pipe remarked. ‘Not when the person who does it goes off and signs up for the Legion it isn’t.’ Shandy remarked. ‘Shows dedication does that,’ G&T remarked. ‘I mean joining the Cobbles, British legion Tiddley Winks & Darts team is serious stuff.’ ‘Not as serious as getting the tea in though,’ Shandy remarked, ‘and it’s your turn.’
GAMES FOR ONE (SMS) Mahjong solitaire is single player matching game that uses a set of Mahjong tiles rather than cards. It is also known as Shanghai solitaire or Mahjong Titans if playing on Windows 7. The tiles come from an ancient four-player children‘s game popular in Asia known as The Turtle or Demolish the Turtle. It should not be confused with Mahjong the gambling game for four people. 144 tiles are arranged in a four-layer pattern face upwards. There are several layouts, some more difficult than others: crab, spider, castle etc. A tile is open if it can be moved left or right without disturbing other tiles. The goal is to match open pairs of identical tiles and remove them from the board, exposing the tiles underneath them for play. The game is finished when all pairs of tiles are removed. A small percentage of games are unsolvable.
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This game can be found on the GAMES menu if you have Win7 or there are free to play versions on the web. It is a fascinating game. One wonders though if the level of difficulty is preset at entry level. Once proficient in the strategy involved of thinking in future moves (like in chess) one can make it more interesting by playing against the clock.
These Are Your Pages Random words (EH) It was heavenly before the heat of mid-day, Fred was making his way towards the windmill his donkey loaded with grain for milling. Fred knew that his friend Peter the miller, would have coffee made to share with him. As he rounded the last dune in sight of the river he felt instantaneously, that something was wrong, it was too quiet, no sails turning, no sign of life or sound of working. He hurried on anxiety mounting as he found bloodstains on the steps and floor, when he heard a weak cry from the store room his worst fears were proved right, there was his friend in a delirious state with a gaping wound on his head. Fred could make out only one word, "assassin assassin." Then Peter collapsed. Who knows? (JA)
Fred Heavenly needed to stay awake, his delirious state was slowly clearing. As if gazing through a fog, he slowly pieced together the events of a few moments ago. Instantaneously, images flashed in front of his eyes, the assassin's bullet shattering the glass, the falling masonry knocking him unconscious, coming round on the floor of the disused windmill, the blood oozing through the hole in Peter's donkey jacket and Peter's wide eyed look of amazement frozen in time. Was the sniper still out there? He peered through the shattered window looking towards the direction of the shot. A coffee coloured 4x4 sped down the dirt track towards the sleepy coastal village. Fred's shoulders loosened, his fists unclenched, the crisis over for the moment, but was Peter the real target?
P.E. and Games I dread the day each week
Run back again, be first
excuses I aim to seek
I'm last, so I'm cursed
What can I say today
Kick the ball around the field
I want to walk away
Tackle him, don't yield
I tried the note from Mom
We're not all made the same
I don't think I fooled anyone
are my parents to blame?
I know, I'll forget my kit
P.E. and Games my biggest hate
They're only trying to make me fit
Oh dear, now I'm going to be late!
It just doesn't interest me Issue 205 Page 6
running over to that tree
These Are Your Pages PRESS RELEASE
BOOK LAUNCH – Stafford Arts & Book Festival, Saturday 17th Sept. Eccleshall poet Elizabeth Leaper will be launching her latest book at the Stafford Arts and Book Festival next Saturday, 17th September. Following on from her successful book of verse for children, ―Barking At Nothing‖, which is sold in aid of The Donna Louise Trust, ―Collecting Cobwebs, Gathering Brambles‖ is a collection of poems, rhymes and light verse that combines some of her own poems with those of her late uncle Jack Williamson from Wilmslow in Cheshire. The two sections share a common heritage and complement each other perfectly, creating a collection that is often amusing, sometimes poignant and above all, thoroughly readable. Along with some dozen or so other Midlands authors, covering a wide variety of genres, Elizabeth will be available to sign copies of the book in the County Hall between 10.00 am and 4.00 pm and a programme of readings and talks will also take place. Other authors present include former Eccleshall writer of teenage Gothic Horror fiction Bob Stewart, author of ―The Devil‘s Creature‖ and ―God of the Underworld‖, and Catherine Cooper from Shropshire, the award winning children‘s writer of ―The Golden Acorn‖ series.
Elizabeth will be reading extracts from her new book at 11.00am and the schedule of other talks and workshops is as follows: 12.00 Noon: Richard Denning will talk about The Great Fire of London 1.00 pm: Bob Stewart on ideas for Gothic Writing. 2.00pm: Les Lacey – Animals and other creatures 3.00pm: Lia Ginno will be working on creative writing with 7/8 year olds. County Hall is about one hundred yards from the main square and there will be plenty of signs about to guide you in the right direction. Elizabeth Leaper www.silverburnpublishing.co.uk
The book costs £4.99 and the ISBN is 978-0-9547010-2-4 Issue 205 Page 7
Stafford Art Group are holding an Open Day at the Oddfellows Hall 10.00 until 4.00 on Saturday 17th September. There will be artists from the group drawing and painting throughout the event.
These Are Your Pages A HOLIDAY ROMANCE ... A novel .... by Martin Haywood Chapter One
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Jennifer Russell stood on top of the skyscraper and watched as a sleek helicopter moved gracefully into land on the nearby helipad; she waited patiently until the rotor blades had stopped before running over to open the rear door. Jim, the pilot, smiled at her ‗Hey Jenny, you‘re early, for once you will have to wait for the other passengers to arrive.‘ She smiled back. ‗I know Jim. Usually everyone has to wait for me.‘ ‗What‘s the story?‘ ‗I‘m going on vacation; I travel to Orlando early tomorrow morning.‘ ‗How long for?‘ ‗Two weeks would you believe,‘ she smiled nervously. He frowned. ‗Are you sure you‘ll be able manage two weeks without getting withdrawal symptoms?‘ Hearing his comment had her worrying. The seminars were only for two days and she hadn‘t thought about what she was going to do with herself for the remaining twelve? She was visiting the entertainment capital of America, probably the World; unfortunately, she had forgotten how to enjoy herself. Jenny was a self confessed workaholic who lived for her job as an attorney; that was why she was at the pinnacle of her profession. She had recently been awarded a full partner in the law firm ―Caber, Caber‖. She was the youngest attorney to be given a full partnership for forty years, as well as being the first woman ever. At twenty nine all her hard work and education was paying off, but at what price to her private life? ‗Tell me Jim, how‘s the wife and the new baby?‘ Jim smiled at her with a contented look on his face. ‗I never realised how wonderful fatherhood could be. The baby smiled at me for the first time today. Mandy said it was wind, but I still maintain it was a real smile, she is so beautiful and looks just like her mother.‘ ‗I am so pleased for you …‘ ‗Why are you pleased Jenny?‘ interrupted a man in his late thirties, who had just jumped into the copter and placed his hand on her thigh. Swiftly she slapped his hand hard and shouted angrily. ‗Damn it, Zach, stop touching me. If you don‘t I‘ll call the cops.‘ Jenny hated Zach. As a chauvinist he thought it was his right to touch women whenever he wanted and each time he touched her it made her skin crawl. Jim looked at the man irritably. ‗Zach, keep your hands to yourself. Can‘t you see Jenny isn‘t interested?‘ Arrogantly Zach looked at Jim. ‗Shut your mouth. Jenny will be mine, only she just hasn‘t realised it yet.‘ Shaking his head Jim hissed. ‗Give it up, Zach. What would your wife say if she got to hear about you constantly groping Jenny?‘ ‗Be careful what you say Jim. You work for us, remember, we‘re the ones who pay your salary,‘ Zach ridiculed. * Using the helicopter to travel to New York had been the idea of Peter Cross who was one of the group of men and women who also commuted to and from New York every day. The six business men and women who used the helicopter lived in a semi-circle of ten large ranch style houses in an upmarket part of town in New Jersey. Jenny was invited to visit Peter‘s house to discuss better ways of travelling to work that would be less stressful and save time for them all. When she heard his idea, she thought travelling by helicopter would be too expensive, however, when all the costs were calculated, it was
These Are Your Pages surprisingly reasonable and only paying a little extra, was well worth the time each of them saved travelling and the hassle of driving, or catching a train. The following week they began commuting by helicopter using a large expanse of grass in front of their homes which they turned into a helipad and a baseball pitch for the kids. * With undisguised venom Jenny gave Zach a look that made him flinch. ‗Ignore him Jim. He doesn‘t know you own the helicopter.‘ ‗Touch Jenny again and I‘ll ban you from travelling in my chopper,‘ Jim said, leaving no doubt he meant what he had said. Ignoring Jim, Zach smiled and placed his hand on her thigh again.‘ ‗I am warning you, Zach,‘ said Jenny, while grabbing his fingers and pulling them back. Zach‘s demeanour rapidly changed and he snarled angrily. ‗B***h, you‘ll regret turning me down.‘ ‗To be honest Zach, I would rather go out with a hippo,‘ she said sarcastically. For a second she flinched as he lifted his hand. ‗Why you...‘ Before he had chance to say any more, a pair of hands gripped his arm and pulled him unceremoniously out of the helicopter. Seeing what was happening, Jim jumped out of the copter and helped Peter Cross keep Zach restrained. ‗I‘d heard about your unwanted advances towards Jenny. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, unfortunately, I see the rumours are true. From today consider yourself excluded from the travel consortium and if I hear you have bothered Jenny, I‘ll get my wife to tell your wife about your behaviour,‘ stormed Peter Cross. Zach grabbed his briefcase before pointing at Jenny. ‗You know why you don‘t have a man Jennifer, it‘s because you‘re frigid, mark my words I‘ll have my revenge.‘ ‗Are you threatening me in front of witnesses? Be careful what you say to me Zach, otherwise I‘ll make sure you go to jail,‘ Jenny warned him calmly. Zach turned around and walked towards the elevator using some very colourful language. Shaking noticeably Jenny said: ‗Thanks for your help guys, but I could have dealt with him.‘ ‗You shouldn‘t have too. For goodness sake Jenny he‘s a married man, he shouldn‘t be doing such things,‘ Peter whispered. ‗It doesn‘t seem to make any difference these days,‘ Jenny said sadly. ‗Why do you think I keep away from men. I‘m yet to meet a man who respects women, apart from you and Jim. Unfortunately, both of you are married?‘
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These Are Your Pages Wind
P M Wheat
On a wild day in November A rough wind growled in anger. Bedroom curtains danced and trembled, Almost imperceptibly stirred by a rogue draught Which had sneaked through gaps In an ill-fitting frame. A final flurry of the last yearâ€˜s leaves, Buffetted from bent branches, Scurried along in the gutter. Chimney pots moaned, As though some deep-pitched horn had sounded Miles away. Or a mermaid on some foreign shore Had blown a giant conch. An eerie note; hollow and haunting. The wind tugged at the roots of trees, Lifted skirts above girlsâ€˜ knees, And pushed aside obstacles in its path. Rushing and roaring; Bowling and cartwheeling A paper carton down the street. Nearly knocking me off my feet. Making it hard to catch my breath Frantic and febrile, it snatched at washing Smacking on a line.
Rain at Night
P M Wheat
The rain woke me; tiptoeing over the tiles. Stealing, soft and stealthy; a thief in the night. Dripping and slipping from the edge of eave and sill. Making its relentless way downwards, To the waiting, receptive earth. The rain woke me; rollicking over the rooftops. Tumbling in torrents from over-taxed pipe and spout. Riotous and undisciplined; spilling from conduit and pantile. Rolling relentlessly downwards, To the indulgent, saturated earth. Issue 205 Page 10
These Are Your Pages
P M Wheat
A pile of leaves lies dormant in the road; Wrinkled, crinkled like dry old leather, Brown and brittle, cast off by branches Brazen in their nakedness. A sudden gust of wind catches them And spurs them into life, Stirring them round like tea in a cup, Sending them curling, swirling, whirling, Hurrying, worrying, scurrying, Lifting and drifting, Snatching and catching, Dancing and prancing, Eddying in the windâ€˜s whirlpool. Disturbed into restless agitation They go tumbling and spinning Like a young dog chasing its tail. Whisked into perturbed animation, Pirouetting, fretting, coquetting. Then, as suddenly as they were caught up, They are tossed aside, discarded. Forgotten, as the wind moves on To newer, more exciting toys. No longer goaded, they relax again, So settling back into their former stupor.
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8 September, 45th International Literacy Day: 793 million adults can neither read nor write This year’s International Literacy Day, celebrated world-wide on 8 September, will focus on the link between literacy and peace. During a ceremony in New Delhi, India, UNESCO will award the international Confucius and King Sejong literacy prizes to projects in Burundi, Mexico, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and the United States of America. Also in New Delhi, an international conference on Women‘s Literacy for Inclusive and Sustainable Development is being organized by UNESCO‘s E9 initiative,* from 8 to 10 September. According to data from UNESCO‘s Institute for Statistics, 793 million adults – most of them girls and women - are illiterate. A further 67 million children of primary school age are not in primary school and 72 million adolescents of lower secondary school age are also missing out their right to an education. More than half the adult population of the following 11 countries are © UNESCO - 2011 International Literacy Day poster illiterate: Benin, Burkina Faso, Chad, Ethiopia, Gambia, Guinea, Haiti, Mali, Niger, Senegal, and Sierra Leone. South and West Asia account for more than half (51,8%) the world‘s adult illiterate population, ahead of sub-Saharan Africa (21,4%), East Asia and the Pacific (12,8%), the Arab States (7,6%), Latin America and the Caribbean (4,6%), North America, Europe and Central Asia (2%). ―The world urgently needs increased political commitment to literacy backed by adequate resources to scale up effective programmes. Today I urge governments, international organizations, civil society and the private sector to make literacy a policy priority, so that every individual can develop their potential, and actively participate in shaping more sustainable, just and peaceful societies,‖ declared UNESCO DirectorGeneral Irina Bokova. Scheduled participants at the New Delhi conference include the President of India, Pratibha Devi Singh Patil; the ministers of education of Nigeria, Ruqayyatu Ahmed Rufaí (the current E-9 President); Pakistan, Pir mazhar-ul-Aq; Nepal, Gangalal Tuladhar; Egypt, Ahmed Gamal El-Din Moussa; Sri Lanka, Bandula Gunawardhana; Bangladesh, Nurul Islam Nahid; and Bhutan, Thakur Singh Powdyel. Representatives of international organizations, members of civil society and of the private sector, as well as experts in adult education will present successful literacy projects and share their experience. The award ceremony of the UNESCO King Sejong Literacy Prizes and of the UNESCO Confucius Prizes for Literacy, financed respectively by the governments of the Republic of Korea and China, will be held ahead of the conference, on 8 September. The National Literacy Service of Burundi is the laureate of one of the two awards of the UNESCO King Sejong Literacy Prize for its innovative approach to linking functional literacy to daily life issues and to topics related to peace and tolerance, as well as for its overall impact. From 2010 to 2011 alone, the Service presented more than 50,000 certificates to new readers. The other UNESCO King Sejong Literacy Prize goes to the National Institute for the Education of Adults of Mexico, for its bilingual literacy programme. The programme is recognized for its impact in reducing the rate of illiteracy among indigenous populations, especially women, and for improving indigenous people‘s ability to exercise their rights. One of two awards of the UNESCO Confucius Prize for Literacy goes to the U.S.-based Room to Read for its effective programme, Promoting Gender Equality and Literacy through Local Language Publishing. Operating in nine countries — Bangladesh, Cambodia, India, Lao People's Democratic Republic, Nepal, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Viet Nam and Zambia — the programme has assisted communities in the development of culturally relevant reading materials in local and minority languages. The other award of the UNESCO Confucius Prize for Literacy goes to Collectif Alpha Ujuvi in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, for its programme, Peaceful Coexistence of Communities and Good Governance in North Kivu. The programme uses an innovative model for preventing and resolving tensions and conflicts among individuals and communities. Each of the four laureates will receive US$20,000 during the ceremony, which will be webcast. **** The E-9 brings together nine high population countries that are home to over two-thirds of the world’s adult illiterates and more than half the planet’s out-of-school children: Bangladesh, Brazil, China, Egypt, India, Indonesia, Mexico, Nigeria and Pakistan. Issue 205 Page 12
05.09.2011 Source: UNESCOPRESS
Fiction Project: ARE WE THERE YET? Editor‘s notes. A message from the manuscript editor:
HOUSE STYLE Indenting: Except for the FIRST line of a chapter or after a line break all other first lines including speech should be indented. Speech marks: A SINGLE inverted comma (‗) around dialogue; Notice 14pt; Notice no line between paragraphs; Indent speech by five spaces; DO NOT indent first line; Notice how speech is punctuated and NEVER put speech into italics; Times New Roman font; NEVER use fancy formatting; NEVER use text boxes; NEVER underline; NEVER centre headings DO NOT capitalize ordinary nouns Notice the action takes place over a few minutes between characters all in the same place and that the story progresses. PLEASE Send pieces in embedded in emails not as attachments. Many Thanks
MORE LY SHORT
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Charlie Witters and his brother, Brendan They own the coach company Angelo Driver FC Tours Coach No: 666 – Anglo-Italian – diamond smuggler Samantha Goodright Courier FC Tours – niece of the Witter brothers Ted Fetler Relief driver FC Tours Vera Pensioner - bladder weakness (Coldwynd Sands and Fare Deal) Gloria Pensioner - tubby companion to Vera Dan Forthright Inept, pompous PI – former rank DCI (Coldwynd Sands and WTAWTAW) Pete Ferret Sidekick to Forthright PI— insurance agents for stolen jewels Tudor and Dewi Davies Welsh sheep farmers won a ticket in a raffle Cyril & Muriel Pinkney Pompous Headmaster and long-suffering wife - hots for Henri Henri, Comte de Monte Donne - French aristo (?) Henri’s unnamed brother – a black sheep Mrs Richardson (Fare Deal) carrying Dickie‘s mortal remains in a carrier bag Bobby Owen (Fare Deal) accompanying Mrs Richardson Jason Ratisson (JR) and Jacqueline Gardien (Jacqui). Lovers having a preliminary honeymoon. Martin Man of Mystery — go-between for jewel thieves and buyers Mick and Meg Dale Mick has wandering affection Mrs Grace Ferret Pete‘s wife and partner in the PI business. Doesn‘t see eye-to-eye with Mavis. Mrs Mavis Forthright Dan‘s wife and partner in the PI business. Doesn‘t see eye-to-eye with Grace. Lady Antonia Garibaldi Italian grand dame – diamond smuggler in cahoots with driver Miss Wainright Mousy companion to Lady Garibaldi (might be a man, as yet undecided) Barry and Beryl Smith Pools Winners. Parents to Harry and Cilla Sandy Rathe, and his friend, Julian, Grapes of Rathe Guesthouse Sister Margarette and Sister Bernadette – the fake nuns - seeking stolen jewels Sister Ignatius and Sister Teresa the real nuns
Judy Davies Lights Out Alive your black eyes blazed with anger Mined deep from the coal face of your soul. Well rehearsed they flashed a sneer, Goading a response To ricochet off your impenetrable walls And bury itself under my skin As festering inadequacy. Then grimly beckoned beyond my reach You followed on with pride Ducking under the wire unseen, Heels clicking off The harsh, glittering light of your days.
Judy Davies Sell Me a Dream Sell me a dream Coil it with gossamer round my heart Bind all my hopes Trace their whispers over and over my lips Weave my desires Hold my gaze entwined for ever on your face Then take my breath away
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WHEN DID YOU LAST SEND IN SOMETHING FOR THE BULLETIN? MANY WRITERS WOULD GIVE THEIR EYE TEETH FOR SUCH AN OPPORTUNITY TO REACH SO MANY READERS ... SO SPRUCE UP THOSE SONNETS, DUST OFF YOUR ODD ODES AND SEND THEM IN...
THE POETRY SLOT
AD LIB SUBMISSON PERIOD NOW CLOSED
AD LIB Opportunity For RBW Registered Onliners Now Closed AD LIB will be the title of the 2012 collection. Many thanks to all those who have sent in submissions. The collection will launch around Festival time 2012, venue tba.
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