Two Poems from Jeff Phelps

Haste to the Wedding
(dance tune – trad.)

They hoist her up, the new bride,
and parade her round at shoulder height.
It’s part of their Morris ceremony -
old and borrowed, the halting, skipping steps,
the jumps and cracking of sticks
stout enough to break knuckles.
A piece of bark comes flying off.
It’s a joke, that’s all,
a jingling end to the afternoon, a climax.
She whoops, astonished
at the view from up here – the pub yard,
the gawping father, the pie-stuffed page boy,
the town and all the future laid out before her.
There with pint glass to his lips
her new husband manages only
a nervous laugh, adjusts his carnation
as she is swept away
still waving, like a surfer
caught by some cross-tide,
far from land.


View from out here

To the east, uphill,
the edge of the town, waist-high grass,
a belt of oak and sweet chestnut.
To the north, between houses,
the tip of the Wrekin
and west at eye level, Telford’s church,
the town piled up like russet bricks,
the Clees, clear and signalling
imminent rain.
A better view is hard to imagine.
Here at the intersection
of ley lines and lines of sight,
a place to sit and do nothing,
a better place to write.

My Arrival in Bridgnorth by Rosie Pugh

Officially I arrived in Bridgnorth on the 5th of February 1990 as Keith, my husband, had bought New Barns Farm at auction at the Punch Bowl on the Ludlow Road. We had been married a year.
It was the lower part of Bridgnorth that we discovered first and we were led to believe that this was all there was to Bridgnorth. It was a few weeks before, when out with my friend Pat from Cheshire, I ventured over the bridge from Low Town and discovered the magic of High Town.
I was captured by the view from the castle wall. It was a picture of beauty that lay before me. There were hills, fields and trees and in the midst of them the river flowed. People walked by me. They chatted and laughed amongst themselves. A gentle breeze touched my skin. The birds sang and mingled with the human laughter it made a richer chorus. I was in a place of contentment and at peace.
As the weeks passed I felt at home as I had as a young girl growing up in Donegal Ireland. The people I found friendly and very helpful and this would be more so in the weeks and months to follow.

Autumn Photographs from Tony Gunn

Tony sent me a selection of autumnal photgraphs. These are the two I like best.

Some News

Two things:

( 1 )

I thought the Cinnamon session on Tuesday revealed that lots of great work is being written for the ‘View From Out Here’ project.

If people want to e mail a piece ( or an extract ) to me I can put it on the blog

( 2 )

REMINDER!!!!
Next Saturday, 1st November is the Highley / Hampton Loade trip

See the posting for October 7th for details of the arrangements

You will need to have appropriate footwear as parts of the paths can be a little muddy
and there is a gentle climb up into the country park.

Further to Nordy Bank Photograph

Tony Gunn has provided these notes to add background to the photograph he sent us:

Some years ago Marilyn and I found that this was a great place to unwind and we would take the forty-minute drive on a summer evening to where we could sit on a bank and (to steal a phrase from one of Steinbeck’s characters) help the sun to set. The isolation, absence from road noise and so on made it exceptionally attractive to us.

Over time we have explored Brown Clee in all weathers and in all seasons. Though nothing ever improved on those sunsets. I have carried a camera since I was in my mid teens and photographs are a part of my life. The photo you have chosen was an attempt to capture the lengthening shadows and the mixed blessings of the isolation experienced by those few who live on the hill.

Highley and Hampton Loade Trip, Sat, November 1st

On Saturday, November 1st the first of our trips will take place. It is hoped these trips will be enjoyable days out which but will allow us to experience the area and inspire us to write.
There will be no workshop on this day so feel free to bring friends and family with you.
The trip will consist of a ramble from Highley , through the country park and along the river to Hampton Loade ( visiting the Severn Valley Country Park Visitors’ centre en route ). We will return to Highley on the Severn Valley Railway. Once back in Highley we can visit the Engine House and have refreshments in their cafeteria.

Itinerary:
10.50: Meet at the car park.
To get there turn off the B4555 ( which is the main road through Highley ) at Station Road. There is a mock-Tudor house on the corner and a brown sign which reads – ‘Severn Valley Country Park, SVR Stn, River Severn’. The car park is a 100 yards down the road.
11.00: Leave car park
11.20: Highley Station
12.00: Severn Valley Country Park Visitors’ Centre ( stay for approx 30 mins )
13.20 : Hampton Loade ( packed lunch in the station waiting room by a roaring fire )
13.59 to 14.07: Travel by Severn Valley Railway to Highley
14.20 to 3.00: Visit the Engine House ( where we can have refreshments in the cafeteria )

Notes:
The fare from Hampton Loade to Highley is £2.50
Entry to the Engine House is £3.00
The Ship Inn is open from 13.00 to 15.00 if people prefer a beer
You will need to bring a packed lunch ( unless you can wait until 14.20 )

Remember: There's no such thing as bad weather , only inappropriate clothing.

Any questions: Contact me on david.hodgebower@googlemail.com

Dave Bingham

A View From Nordy Bank ( on the ege of Clee Burf )

Here is a photograph taken by Tony Gunn which shows a view from Clee Burf ( Brown Clee summit consists of Clee Burf and Abdon Burf )

Maybe it will inspire someone to write a short piece.

Writing Themes

On the launch evening we discussed the possible writing themes that might arise when thinking about the area in and around Bridgnorth.

The main themes we identified were:

Personal experiences of the area
Old ways and new ways
Viewpoints and biographies of local people
Movement and transport ( ice sheets, Romans, Normans, urban overspill… commuters, the Welsh influence, river transport, Severn Valley Railway )
Working communities ( modern rural life, isolated settlements, loss of post offices, rural industry )
Farming (developments in agriculture, wealthy landowners, property, competition, well-being )
Origins ( growth of settlements, landed gentry, rich and poor, place names, local dialects, myths and stories, religion, artists and writers who have lived / worked here, families )
Connections
Heritage and tourism ( holidays, camping, walking, fishing, forests, quarries, steam railways, iron, coal, pottery, tar, museums, castles, churches, abbeys, halls, landscape, limekilns )
Leisure
Landscape ( nature, formation of the environment, conservation, geology … rock formations, fossils, the seasons … hunting, poaching, fishing … rivers, floods, the hills..The Wrekin, Brown Clee, etc … caves, bridges, birds, wild animals, views, weather)
History, nostalgia, ( research )
Local myths
Distinctiveness

However, probably the most useful themes to individual writers may be the ones they haven’t thought of yet

First Work on the Blog

Here is the first of the work to be produced as part of the 'View From Out Here' project. It was written in a short workshop session which was part of the launch at the Cinnamon Bar on Tuesday, September 16th.
Thanks to Dorothy for getting us on the move.

On Brown Clee
by Dorothy Leiper

Twelve tents, neatly arranged, almost in line; ten in a row and at either end one angled to keep watch provide a stop. Cub camp. Kids in sixes with Arkela book-ends.
Tired from the school week and ready for a change, they are not too tired to sleep, but prattle on in muttered confidences, squeals, mingled with the cries of protest as sleep insists and fellow campers deny.
As the sun, still well below the horizon, lightens the canvas from midnight blue to holly green to pale green the voices start in time with the first birds; little chatterings and chirrups.
A head pops out from the fumbled-open door, hovers an inch from the dewy grass at eye level with an upturned Wellington. A full bladder calls for relief and warmth of sleeping bag abandoned, tent ties pulled open, he staggers out, one foot reaching for the toppled boot, one hand clasping the dew sparkled canvas.
He leaves a green trail across the silver of the grass, continuous dragging of boot, flop, boot. A yawn, a glance up, a look around at the still camp. My, this is nothing like a Saturday morning at home.